Bottoms Up!
by Sunny Day in February
Summary: Follow Lovino on his weird and, well, at least quite interesting trip around Europe in order to find out some of the greatest secrets ever about himself, Europe, tomato-shaped alarm clocks and the past of his lovely, but complicated Spanish partner.
1. Buns

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Um… hi again! _^^ _Remember me? Long time no see! _

_Ah, how nice to be back here! I haven't been active for quite some time, as some of you might have noticed. But thanks to the wonderful motivation I got from The Second Side Of Happiness, I've decided to start a new Spamano-story! How original! _*shot*

_I really hope to catch your so-loved and needed attention once again and maybe, possibly, I hope to write a better story than 'This Dance'. Yeah, that would be nice!~ _

_So… please tell me what you think of it and if it's good enough for you! If it is, then you can expect the usual updates on Saturday. Yay for Saturdays! _

_On to the story!_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter I:

_**Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in Bed  
**__**(Kinky Friedman)**_

Things weren't going so great for Antonio lately.

His stupid economy was in trouble – yet _again_. Together with that other poor bastard, Greece, he had been suffering from a big fat cold for a while now, constantly sniffing and wiping his nose and coughing his fucking lungs out, as if some creepy, suffocating disease was roaming free inside of his body.

It… it was kind of weird. His normally tanned, sun-kissed face was as white as a sheet now and his eyes had lost their usual sparkle. He hardly did anything other than sleep anymore. That's right, that's all what Antonio was doing all day long – _sleeping_. Even _more_ than he used to and _yes_, apparently, that actually was _possible_.

Whenever Antonio was catching some zzz's, he didn't wake up until _siesta_-time was over – and since he didn't even bother anymore to wake up in the morning, he pretty much just slept the whole day long, from very late in the evening 'till very late in the afternoon – because, hey, why wait for a _siesta_ when you can just as easily snooze like a fucking comatose patient while waiting for it?

But aside from his body growing weaker, he didn't change _that_ much. Personality-wise, I mean.

When he wasn't sleeping like some kind of mutated, moronic baby, Antonio was still doing his best to keep up with his stupid, usual Antonio-habits and things. He was still smiling at me like he wasn't sick at all, still cooking for me, still trying to hug and kiss me and still way too kind and peppy and too fucking _Antonio_.

Every – single – day. In-between sneezes and wheezes _and_ attempts to grab my ass – that smug bastard.

He was such an idiot. Shit. He should have known better and he should have taken a break from his weird activities more often. He really should have done just that. But he didn't want me to worry about him, so he just ignored his illness and wobbliness and he kept on acting like a freaking Spanish monkey, just to get my attention.

S-stupid bastard, dammit… I-I was – and still _am_ – his freaking _lover_, of… of course he'd get my attention…

Not that I was worried about him. Hell no.

Okay, maybe a bit.

But since Antonio was Spain, I knew for sure he was going to get better pretty soon – after all, the summer was right around the corner! You know, holidays! White-legged, fat people from West-European countries just _loved _spending their vacation in warm nations like Spain and France and… well, the North and (especially) the South of Italy, to name a few. Tourists would make Spain's economy rise right through the fucking _roof_ again thanks to their money and empty, vacation-poisoned brains. Because for some mysterious, shitty reason, tourists just _loved_ to spend their well-earned cash on stupid crap you could buy on every random tacky Spanish market, _even if they knew the shit they were buying was freaking shit._

What the fuck was up with that?

No doubt about it – in a very short amount of time, Antonio would be all better again. Yes, he would. I was sure of that. He'd lose that nasty cold and be all better again. He had to be. Or else I was going to kick his dead ass for the very obvious and also very _valid_ reason that I _could_. And so I _would_.

Antonio's sickness wasn't something new – everybody around the world knew Antonio's health could be flaky as hell. And just like other times, most nations in Europe were - again - feeling sorry for Antonio and tried to help him (like fuckface France and dipshit Austria), while others were telling him it was his own fault and that he could just eat _shit_ and die (like eyebrow-monster England and pothead Netherlands).

Everyone seemed to have a different point of view in the matter of Antonio's economy, but in the end, Antonio was pretty much all on his own, struggling to get better again, not paying attention to his fever or snotty nose, staggering around in his tomato-fields until he passed out and I had to rush to his side to carry him inside – what sucked big time because he was a freaking _heavy_ bastard.

Still, I wasn't worried. No, I wasn't worried. Not at all. He was Spain. _Spain._ He'd be okay.

So instead of worrying every single day and night about the Spanish idiot – which I didn't, I absolutely didn't and I certainly wasn't crying sometimes either – I thought of an _ingenious _plan.

So, Antonio was all weak and vulnerable and feeling crappy and stuff, right?

And he was _still_ trying to please me whenever he saw the possibility, right?

And he… he loved me, right?

Well, then in that case, this was simply the best moment to try and _**top the living daylights**_ out of Antonio!

That's right! I wanted to top that bastard for once! Just for once, dammit!

Ever since we started going out last year, **he** was the one who pushed **me** down. **He** was the one who pulled out pants and squeezed things that made me go light and fluffy in the head. **He** was the one who was experienced and a bit older and a bit bigger and **he** was the one… u-um… _attacking_. He always was and always had been – at least, in _our_ relationship.

God. That sounded so damn disgusting.

And strangely erotic.

No! Not erotic! Just disgusting! I didn't want to be the one… um… _receiving_, I really didn't! Sure, Antonio was very loving and sweet and tender whenever we… m-made love (since that bastard refused to call it anything other than that), but still! It was fucking unfair to be the one getting topped all the time! Wait, no, it wasn't exactly _unfair,_ i-it was just _coincidence_ I always let him take advantage of me like that! Yes! It… it was coincidence! Not because I actually _liked_ it like that and _wanted_ to be screwed, _fuck_ no! Really!

And _no_, I _never_ cry out how much I love him whenever we're doing it, because only _sissy's_ shout shitty stuff like that and I'm not a sissy! I'm a _man_! A manly man! A manly man who's always being topped by that flirty tomato-idiot and who has grown tired of that!

Hell, I had some needs, too, dammit! _I_ wanted to be the one dominating! I could do that! I've dreamt tons and tons of spicy stuff in which I was a fucking _sex-machine _and Antonio the one blushing and whimpering and willing to do whatever I demanded him to and _fuck yeah_ I wanted that to become reality!

But…

Well, I found out that this probably wouldn't be that _easy_ to realize. Lately, we… we didn't do it _that much_ anymore. As a matter of fact, it had been at least three months (_three fucking frustrating months_) since the last time Antonio and I had done anything sexual – and then we even had to stop _halfway_ because Antonio had collapsed on top of me and _man_, that had been a **very good** – I mean, very _awkward_ position.

(I hadn't used that opportunity to kiss and cuddle him like some love-struck fool, it just happened to be very cold that night! And Antonio's body was just… so very warm! So shut it, dammit!)

In a nutshell, Antonio had become too tired, too wobbly and too sick to do whatever kind of sexy activity. And I was too concerned about him – no! I mean, too _sexually frustrated_ about the whole not-having sex part (for over _ninety brain-damaging, absolutely horrific days_) to do anything about it myself (ironically enough). It was sad, but our once oh so _steamy_ sex-life was currently pretty much standing still. Like a rock. A dead one.

I had to change that, dammit! I had to do it for the sake of our people! For the people of Spain and South Italy!

But naturally, I knew that trying to dominate the passionate country in bed could be a quite literal pain in the ass if I didn't prepare myself properly: I could hurt Anto- myself, and I sure as hell didn't want that to happen.

I hoped that didn't sounded as suggestive as I thought it sounded.

Anyway, I decided to start an investigation about Antonio's former bed partners: that way, I could discover the Great Secret of Topping Antonio.

There was only one way for me to do that investigation: asking Antonio directly just who managed to top him during the past years, _without_ telling him the reason - he wouldn't understand it, anyway.

And so I did – during one of our many not-sexual nights.


	2. Back

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: O-oh wow, you guys! Thanks for all those sweet words! I had no idea you'd like this story so much, so I'm very, very glad you do! Thank you very much! _^^ _I hope you'll like this chapter as well!~_

_A/n2: Some of you told me they don't really like Seme!Lovino. Well, neither do I, to be honest: I always thought Lovi was a very topable person and so, I like to see him getting topped. By Antonio. _*KICKED*_ Yes, I'm a huge perv. But it's true. A-anyway, the main reason why I decided to write a story in which Lovino ~possibly~ tops Antonio, was the simple fact that I'd like to see Lovi __**try**__. He always thinks that Spain's such a predictable idiot, but we __**all**__ know how sly that bastard Toni can be… So it __**certainly**__ won't be easy for Lovino to dominate Antonio, not even when Toni's sick. And you'll have to wait and see to find out if he's going to succeed…_

_A/n3: Beware: there will be FLUFF! *gasp* And maybe some angst, too. Tell me what you think of it! _^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter II:

_**Baby Got Back  
**__**(Sir Mix-A-Lot)**_

'Lovi…'

Antonio stared at me with his big, somehow very tired and dull-looking eyes, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he coughed a few times. I stared right back at him, pouting slightly (without losing a single bit of my oh so damn manly manliness, of course) and gripped the sheets of his (fucking _king-size_) bed around me tighter and tighter, until it started to hurt.

I honestly didn't know why I did that, I just did.

'Ah, Lovi…' Antonio said once again, shifting a bit in bed until he was lying comfortable enough to give me a weak, but honest smile, '…I'm not sure I got what you said, my love.'

My heart started to race and I blushed at the – not even Spanish-spoken – _'my love'_ –bit. R-romantic bastard… even when he was feeling bad, he… still… s-so damn romantic…

I scowled in a worthless attempt to hide my stupid, stumbling feelings, even though I knew that they would probably still be _very_ readable on my face. 'You know very well what I said, moron.'

He nodded slowly. 'Oh yes. Certainly. But… I don't know whether you actually _meant_ to ask me that or—'

'I meant to.'

'Ah.'

'N-now answer the damn question already, dammit: who did you sleep with before I got into the picture – and was old enough for your sinful desires – and _remember_, _only_ the names of the ones that _topped_ you! Get it?'

Antonio gave me a weird look and sighed. He scratched the back of his head, turning his face away from me. 'Ah, that's… that's strange, Lovi… Of _all_ the things I'd be happy to share with you, why would you want to know _that_?'

I bit my lower lip and shrugged. 'I have my reasons.'

'What reasons?'

'None of your business, fucking jackass.'

'Ouch. You're such a filthy-mouthed boy, Romano…'

I was shocked and felt my blood started to cool drastically when he said my 'other' name. Antonio never called me Romano – not _anymore_. He always called me moronic names like… 'Lovi' and… and his '_amor'_ and one very memorable time, he even called me his '_princesa'_.

His _motherfucking_ princess.

WHAT.

Naturally, I had kicked him in the face immediately after that last '–_sa'_ had escaped from his lips. Stupid Spanish bastard! That's it, that would be the last time that pervert would ever see me in a fucking pink dress again, dammit!

B-but anyway…

…even though I obviously hated those crazy pet-names of his very much, I… I didn't want him to call me by my country-name. Antonio wasn't supposed to call me _Romano_, like I was just a random country. Only other nations than him – or Feliciano – should call me that, dammit… But… but not him. Not Antonio. Not him.

_Shit. No, don't go there, watch it, watch it, or else you'll become all emotional and shit and you know you don't want to, you know you can't, not now…_

_And what the __**hell**__, dude! Just grow a fucking spine already, you emotional fag! Geez!_

I frowned. Maybe I should become nicer to myself.

Okay, enough of this. I suddenly turned to face Antonio and shot an angry glare at him – at least, I _hoped_ it was an angry glare, I wasn't so sure of it, to be fair.

'L-look, are you gonna tell me already or should I just go to sleep?'

My voice sounded angry, probably angrier than I actually felt. I heard the other nation groan softly – because of his shitty heath, because of my shitty behavior? Who could tell?

'Ah, if you want to know it _that_ badly…' he said.

I couldn't get myself to say anything, but I managed to nod – once. In the meantime, I also tried to ignore the huge lump in my throat that I was suddenly aware of. Before I started ignoring it, of course.

Antonio noticed my strained face and hesitated. 'Romano—'

'Don't call me that!' I winced visibly. 'S-stop calling me fucking "_Romano_", bastard!'

'Hm? Did I… Ah, I'm so sorry, Lovi!' He chuckled. The gentle sound filled my heart, even if it was just a little bit of his usual cheerfulness.

Antonio looked at me, a kind smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'It's just… I can't imagine you'd want to know who have slept with me. I mean, I certainly wouldn't like to know that from _you_… y'know, what nations had _passionate_, _animalistic_ _jungle-sex_ with you…'

Oh god. I felt his weary, yet burning gaze on me. I saw his dry lips, now forming a mischievous smirk.

Bastard. I shyly fiddled the white sheet between my hands. 'I-it was just _you_, you fucking idiot. You were the only one who ever… but fuck you, you already_ know _that.'

'Of course I know, but it's still nice to hear you actually _confirming_ it. Ahahaha…'

'Fucking pervert.' I covered my face with the sheet to cover up the giant blush on my treacherous cheeks.

'Ah, don't do that, don't hide that adorable face of yours! I want to see it! You're such a cutie, Lovi! Such a handsome cutie!' Antonio laughed feebly and patted me on the head. '… but okay, it obviously seems to be very important for you to know who slept with me, so I'll tell you.'

'G-good. But!' I raised a finger without lifting or moving the linen piece of bedding on top of me, '…o-only the ones that topped you! You got that? Only them!'

'Yes yes, only the ones that topped me,' he said and lowered his hand until it landed on my glowing face, '…now, let's see… hm…'

I swallowed heavily and closed my eyes when Antonio's fingers carefully caressed my cheeks. God. I loved those fingers. I wanted to put them in my mouth and suck on them and…

…and that wasn't perverted at all, no, it was _perfectly normal _because it had been _three_ _months_ already! I was _sooo damn _allowed to long for weird shit like that!

And then Antonio suddenly started talking. Just like that, without giving me a warning or something so I could prepare for it, no, he just started to count all of his dominating bedpartners, with a _pleasant_ voice, as if he was counting fucking tomatoes.

'Okay! Well, first of all, there's Francis… and Gilbert, naturally…'

I shivered and gripped the sheets even more. Oh god, he already had named a few, he really _was _saying this, oh _sweet mother of_— no no, don't panic, stay focused! So… Antonio had sex with his _friends_ in the past, huh? Well… t-that wasn't _that_ big of a surprise, actually. What else did I expect from the great Bad Touch Trio? Fuckers…

'…and… Austria…' I heard Antonio say, somewhere in the background.

Huh. I knitted my eyebrows together. For some reason, my own heartbeat was suddenly freakishly painful. Antonio and Austria slept together? Disgusting. But okay, they _were_ married for a while, so maybe that wasn't really surprising, either…

'…hm… oh, and England…'

Aha. I actually knew this one already. Wasn't happy with it at all, but at least I expected to hear _his_ name. That made it less horrible. Or something.

'…the Netherlands – but only _sometimes_, mind you…'

And that nation was an easy one, too. I guess.

'Russia…'

I froze, right on the spot. Whoa, whoa! Hold the phone! Russia? Freaking _Russia_? Oh my god! My left eye started to twitch fanatically. What the hell! He even went to bed with _that _psychotic bastard?

Antonio must have seen the look of pure and utter disgust and resentment on my face – or the weird, spastic movements my eye was doing – since he hastily rattled on: '…a-ah, and then there's also Hungary...'

I think my jaw hit the ground.

…the _fuck_?

'_Hungary_?' I repeated, instantly sitting up, '..._Hungary_ topped you? But she's a woman! A _woman_! With _boobs_! And she hasn't got a… How could she possibly…'

My lover shot me a knowing glance. 'Oh, she _could_.'

I instantly believed him.

God. I bit my lower lip and tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling my cramped-up hand was causing me – that's what you get from squeezing sheets way too tightly for at least ten minutes.

Okay. I thought – no, I _knew_ I had heard more than enough about the giant _**whore-bag**_ that was Spain. Good Lord. Really, I had unconsciously received more information about his bedpartners than I had _wanted_ to receive. Right now, I seriously thought my vulnerable being would be scarred for the rest of my life if I had the guts to involuntary visualize all of the aforementioned nations, _banging_ a very willing Country of Passion to his and their heart's content…

…

Well, fuck.

I just did it, I just thought about it, shit! Why did I think about it? I didn't want to think about it, dammit! Really, _really_ didn't! Enough is enough already!

Too bad Antonio didn't agree on that.

'Is that all? Hm… oh, I think I forgot to mention the nations outside of Europe…' he muttered, as if he spoke to himself rather than to me.

And just like that, I felt dizzy. No, I felt _nauseous_. T-the hell? Outside of Europe? Was this 'little' list of his still only about nations in fucking _Europe_? Oh dear _God, _so there were even _more_? This was crazy. Did the whole wide _world_ fuck Spain at one point or something?

Damn! Antonio, you _slut_!

Said person's face suddenly lightened up, his owner deceivingly innocent as always and completely unaware of my inner struggle with all of his horrible _fun facts_. My poor brain was probably slowly changing into an overcooked mush of pinkish shit. Fucking _pinkish_ shit.

Naturally, Antonio, always willing to play the role of oblivious idiot, always happy to torture others and always everything but picky about his (verbal) weapons of choice, carried on.

'Ah, now I remember some of them! I think I also—'

I never let him finish that sentence.

'Shut it! Just… just shut it already!' I roughly shoved my hands into his face to make his mouth stop saying things I might wanted, but also _hated_ to hear and clenched my teeth. '…n-no more! Stop! I've heard enough, dammit!'

He stared at me in surprise, blinked a few times and hesitated, before he cautiously took a hold of my wrists. The atmosphere was changing rapidly – I could feel it. I trembled and gulped when Antonio planted soft kisses on the inside of my hands, his eyes half-lidded, his breathe warm and moist against my skin.

I couldn't do anything but inhale and exhale. Slowly, but panicky. I just sat there, glaring at the Spanish man as a somewhat weird method to force my upcoming tears back. God, I was so confused. Why was I reacting like this? Why the _hell_ was I reacting like this? It wasn't like that bastard had cheated on me or something, he was just… just very, _very, extremely _experienced at having sex, that's all! I should have expected that! I mean, come on, he was _Spain_! Besides, I was the one who made him tell all of this fucking shit, so why, _why_ was I acting like a jealous little girl!

Antonio sighed and removed my shaking hands from his face. His own hands and fingers carefully clasped themselves around mine.

'Ah, I know, Lovi… it's a lot.'

'A lot? You think it's "_a lot_"?You have had the whole damn _planet_ up your ass, bastard!' I snapped, looking at everything except the Spaniard between my thighs. Then I tried to yank my hands free, but since I secretly didn't want to yank them free and since Antonio wasn't very strong at the moment, I immediately gave up the minute I felt even the slightest bit of resistance from Antonio.

He pressed our hands against his chest and coughed, but luckily, it didn't sound _that_ bad this time. I allowed myself to feel relieved. Sometimes I simply forgot the fact that Antonio wasn't dying or anything – he was just very sick.

"Just" very sick. Yeah, that sounded fucked-up. But it was true, though.

'Silly Lovi… if it upsets you so much, then why did you want me to tell you all of this?' Antonio asked me softly.

I sniffed and bent down awkwardly to wipe my nose with my upper arm. 'I-I told you, dammit, it's none of your business! D-damn!'

He squeezed my hand. 'Lovi… are you crying?'

I averted my eyes. 'Am not!'

'Oh Lovino… Lovino, Lovino, Lovino…'

'S-shut up! I'm _not_ crying, you ass! B-but if I _was_ – which ISN'T – then _you_ would be the one to blame!'

Antonio nodded, tracing a single finger over one of my clammy cheeks. 'Ah, yes, I know…'

'Well… well, good!' I huffed, leaning into his touch – just a bit.

He sighed. 'Ah, Lovi… You worry too much.'

'…j-just stop talking already, b-bastard.'

'I will. I'm sorry. I love you.'

'H-hmpf.'

'Do you love me too?~'

'Yes yes, I love you too, you… globe-fucking idiot…'

'At least I've seen more of the world than you.'

'Oh GOD, SHUT UP!'

Antonio snickered and pressed his lips together tightly, almost exploding from laughter. I didn't know why, but I also found myself chuckling after seeing him giggle like that.

'You're such an ass.'

I grinned a unsure grin, a grin that showed I wasn't used to grinning. But, well… I suppose it was somehow comforting to hear that stupid, happy-go-lucky –laugh of his again.

Then all of a sudden, the both of us got quiet again. We stopped grinning and giggling. Like we had planned it like that or something.

The silence lasted and even became surprisingly _comfortable_ – so comfortable, I even allowed Antonio to pull me down on top of him.

On top of him. That reminded me of why I did this in the first place.

I took a deep breath and looked down at his face. 'S-so, in short… of all nations – in Europe – you've been topped by France, Prussia, Austria, the Netherlands, Russia and Hungary.'

He eyed me very worriedly again. '…pretty much, I guess.'

I nodded. 'Okay. That's all I need to know.'

Antonio smiled, lifted a hand and placed it gently against the side of my face. 'Still, you are my first, Lovi.'

I scowled, face reddening disturbingly fast. 'Your first? Your first what? Jailbait?'

He pouted. 'Ah, that's mean, Lovi! We're only two years apart!'

'We weren't _always_ two years apart!'

'Well, we are _now_. And that's good. I actually _wouldn't_ like my first love to be a minor.'

Again, I found myself at a loss of words. I licked my lips and felt my eyes were spread open way too wide. I clutched some of the shirt he was wearing into my hands and tried not to focus on the hand that was still caressing my cheek.

'…I… I was your first love?' I heard myself mumble quietly.

He leant up and kissed my forehead. 'You still are.'

Oh.

I gave a shivery sigh and made my head rest on his chest, softly rubbing my flushed face against his warm and familiar torso, maybe even placing a few kisses on it – maybe.

'I really, really love you, you know?' Antonio stated, exhaling slowly.

'…s-shut up, you're… you're embarrassing me, saying weird shit like that…' I swallowed a great amount of my pride before I continued, '…A-Antonio…'

He was quiet for a moment, still breathing calmly and steadily, seemingly at ease. However, he must have heard my soft-spoken whisper which contained his human name, since the speed of the beating of his heart increased – quickly.

'Maybe you should kiss me.' he said.

'Y-yeah, well…' I lifted my head from his chest and blushed even more, '…maybe I will.'

Antonio's eyes started to shine brightly. 'You will?'

I nodded, carefully took his face into my hands and leant closer and closer towards him, until our lips brushed ever so slightly.

'You… you better get well soon, bastard… okay?'

He didn't exactly answer me. He just pushed himself up some more and pressed our lips together, making me moan softly. When he wrapped his still quite muscular arms around me and found a way to gently push his tongue into my mouth, I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the moment as long as possible, because we both knew it wouldn't go farther than this. I-it was all his fault, that stupid, sick bastard… damn…

I sighed and answered his kiss, pulling him even closer than he already was.

**xXx**

Antonio and I pretty much passed out after making out like that – we didn't kiss as passionately as we were used to, either – but I stayed awake long enough to make myself a mental things-to-do-list for the next morning and days that would follow:

**1:** List every (European) country that topped Antonio;

**2:** Make appointments to meet everyone of Antonio's former dominators (oh _god_) – at least one a week,

…

…a-and…

Bonus Option/ Doesn't Really Count Because It's Not Part Of The Plan Option **3:** Hug Antonio. M-maybe even kiss the bastard. A lot. Y-yeah…

I had got enough to do, alright...


	3. Tail Feather

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Last time, __**Verito.S **__asked me why I hadn't made Rome one of Spain's many dominators. I told her (you're female, right?_^^;_) that was because I thought Spain was still too young to get laid/raped/molested by Rome, but when I think about it, she naturally was right: Spain probably was also dominated by his beloved Lovi's grandpa… Oh well, maybe Spain didn't tell Romano Rome also slept with him to spare his feelings? It's a good explanation, right? _*looks around nervously* _Sorry for the misunderstanding…_

_A/n2: Even though I really should be spending my time to my homework more often, I managed to write another huge chapter! My fingers still hurt! But oh well! Hopefully, I've managed to create a good picture of Paris… tell me what you thought about it, 'kay?_

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter III:

_**Twist It – Shake Your Tail Feather  
**__**(Blues Brothers)**_

Well, I did it – I had actually managed to do all of the things that were on my list! That's right! I was a fucking planning _miracle_! I organized the crap out of me! And I turned out to be good at it, too!

I had listed all of the dominating nations!

I had made a lot of appointments!

I had hugged and kissed Antoni-

…

Anyway, it turned out to be way easier to arrange appointments with the nations I wanted to visit than I had formerly expected. Maybe it was because of the unusual sunny weather in our continent or because of the time of the year, but every single nation in Europe that once (or more – yeah, probably _more_) topped my stupid Spanish boyfriend, had agreed in meeting me.

So starting from this day, I would meet the nations, one at a time, every Friday at a small little restaurant or lunchroom in the city they lived in (because _no way_ I wanted to meet them in their no-doubt scary Houses of Doom that weren't Italian or Spanish _whatsoever_, no matter how much you looked at it).

Luckily, since every nation lived in the capital city of their country, it would be a piece of cake for me to figure out how to find my way to the many different nations – I'd just steal Antonio's navigation system and step on the gas.

Okay.

Today, _this_ day, would be the first weird Friday of a lot weird Fridays I probably was going to experience the following weeks, but I already knew this would be one of the most _horrible_ ones.

Because I would start my investigation with a visit to _Fuckface_ _France. Ugh._

Of course I wasn't jumping up and down with fucking _joy_ when I found out he was the only nation I was able to meet on such a short notice, but on the other hand, I was also 'happy' to talk to him first – because the sooner I could ignore that French bastard again, the better. And at least I'd sooner get rid of the stressing feeling of having to meet him than I thought.

Anyway, the fuckface and I agreed to meet and have lunch at '_Chez Janou'_, a restaurant in Paris.

Now, all I needed to do was inform Antonio I'd be away for a while today.

**xXx**

'You… you're going to meet _Francis_?'

Antonio, who had been in the kitchen, chopping some tomatoes (of course), immediately looked up from the red vegetables to stare at me like I'd just announced I wanted to move to Germany and eat potatoes for the rest of my life.

'That's right, I'm having an… eating appointment with that perverted loser.' I put my hands into my pockets and nodded nonchalantly, until I noticed his shocked face. 'What the hell's with that face? You got a problem with me going to France?'

'Um, well…' He stopped slicing the tomatoes, let the knife slide out of his hands and rubbed the back of his neck, '…I don't really have a problem with you meeting Francis, no, but… why? Why would you _want_ to visit Francis?'

'Why not?' I countered.

'Because you hate him.' He tilted his head to one side. 'Right? Didn't you hate him? Hate him very, _very_ much?'

I frowned. 'Of course I hate him! Don't ask stupid things like that, dammit!'

'Hm-hm. Right, if that's the case, I'm going to ask you again, Lovino… _why_?'

I pouted and folded my arms together, turning around to face the wall instead of his confused facial expression. 'Because… I've got something important to discuss with him.'

'Something important…' Antonio's voice sounded not only like somebody was strangling him - he also sounded very _hurt_. '…and… it's nothing you can talk to me about?'

I swallowed. 'No.'

'Oh.'

'S-sorry.'

It slipped out of my mouth before could prevent it to happen and it made me wince a bit – I _never_ apologized, dammit – but at _some_ level in my complicated brain, I was glad I said it.

Antonio sighed softly and I could hear him approaching me from behind. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around my waist and his chin was resting on the top of my head. For a moment I forgot to breath. Goddammit, his body was so warm. Seriously, he was fucking _burning_. I could _feel_ the cruel power of the fever emitting from his frail body and I _hated_ it.

'Lovi…' He hugged me tightly, '…ah, I know I'm probably wrong, but… you're not going to cheat on me, are you?'

I had expected this question and shook my head, gently touching his arms. 'Of course not, you suspicious idiot. W-why would I!'

He nuzzled my neck. 'Well… it _has_ been more than three months already, right?'

I groaned and rolled my eyes. 'Shit. Really, Spain? You think _that_ would be a perfectly good reason to cheat on you or break up with you or whatever?'

'Ah, I don't know. We _are_ men, after all…'

'So _what_? Fucking superficial moron.' I head-butted him from aside, which went pretty well, actually. 'That's a fucking lame excuse and you _know_ it. Look, you've been very sick all this time, you had other priorities than having sex. I understand. I always did. So don't worry about it, dammit.'

'But it must be frustrating for you as well.'

'Yeah, well… maybe. But I can do it by myself too, you know.'

And then my brain exploded. WHAT.

Oh my GOD, Lovino, that was way too much fucking information, you fucking, red-faced, Southern and stupidest part of a fucking boot-shaped nation!

Antonio was surprised and chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. 'Do it by yourself, hmm?~ Do you think of me while… _doing yourself_?~'

'No!' I lied, face flushed so much it hurt.

'Ah, that's too bad. Because I _do_ think of you whenever I'm, you know…~'

'No, I _don't_! I _don't_ know! Let me go! I've got a fucking appointment!'

He laughed a bit and released me from his arms, holding up his hands in defense when I immediately spun around to glare at him. It didn't scare him one bit, of course. 'Aw, look at you! You're so cute when you're angry and pouting!~'

'_Really_, now?' I growled, quickly undoing my pouting, '…let's see if you'll still think so after I've smashed up your teeth!'

'Such a mean boy…' Antonio grinned, but had to stop his laughing when he suddenly burst out in a fit of coughing and hacking. It was a pretty heavy one, as it made Antonio bend over and find something to lean on as support. He settled for the table and kept on wheezing and panting until I was seriously afraid he would just fall down and vomit his lungs out.

But he didn't, thankfully enough. After a couple of minutes, he seemed to calm down again and shivered, giving me a small smile when he noticed me staring at him in panicky concern. 'Ah… what a pale face, Lovi. You're not getting sick, are you?'

I couldn't help but snort. 'Says the guy who almost choked in his own spit.'

Antonio shook his head and stared at the ceiling, frowning. 'Aah… I don't think it's spit, I think it's more like slime and mucus and stu—'

'Spain, _whatever_ gave you the fucking idea I wanted to _know_ what gooey body fluids you cough up?'

'Oh, sorry for that, ahahaha… ha…'

He laughed weakly and leaned his back against the table, sniffing a bit. I felt my heart practically ripping in two when I watched him standing like that, too tired to do anything, getting even more exhausted in the process. I fisted my hands and dug my nails into my palms. Shit, I hated his sickness, I hated it so, so much, dammit…

'You,' I suddenly stated and instinctively pointed a very threatening finger at him, '…you get your ass into bed the minute I take off, you got that?'

Antonio finally looked at me again and blinked. 'But Lovino…'

'Shush!' I pursed my lips together and made a zipping motion with my thumb and forefinger, '…no buts! Look, it's… it's very… h-hard for me to leave you in this condition, so… just promise me you'll sleep and drink a lot today, okay?'

'But isn't it kind of difficult to sleep and drink at the same time, Lovi?~' Antonio gave a playful grin. A _weary _one, yes, that too, but it was mainly meant to be playful. Sick or not sick.

Idiot. My face fell and I – softly – smacked him on the head. 'Not funny, you bastard! You know what I mean!'

He rubbed his head and chuckled nervously. 'Ah, I know, yes.'

'And?' I persisted, restlessly wiggling myself back and forward for some reason.

The Spaniard saw the look on my face, sighed, walked towards me and grabbed my arms. I gasped and wanted to struggle, but before I could even ask him what the hell he was planning to do, he pressed my body against his and nuzzled my forehead. W-which was nice.

'I get it, Lovino. I'll take it easy today. I'll rest and drink a lot. Okay?' he said.

I hesitated, but then wrapped my arms around him and kicked my pride aside – once again – as I stubbornly hugged the Spanish idiot tightly, ignoring my fucking _face-eating_blush. Antonio made a tiny sound of surprise and contentment and hugged me back, planting small kisses on top of my head, while I was getting more and more comfortabl- _embarrassed _with every small peck he gave to me.

'Y-you're a bastard.' I muttered faintly.

I almost heard him smile. 'Ah, I kind of love you, too.'

'Y-you'd better.' I shivered and stroke his back. Damn, when did he get so sweaty? Fucking fever…

'Hey…' Antonio pulled away a bit to look me in the eyes expectantly, '…I don't know when you'll be back, but… you're staying over for dinner, right?'

Oh god. That was a really stupid, useless, needless question. I heaved a sigh. 'Yes, Spain. I _am_ staying over for dinner.'

Stupid bastard knew fucking well I was staying over for dinner at his place _every single day_ for at least a freakin'_ year_ now already.

Seriously, I hadn't seen Feliciano in months. I wondered how he was doing. Damn, maybe I should call him once in a while. And tell him where the hell I've been all this time. Although I think he probably knows already.

…oh well.

I allowed Antonio to cuddle me some more – since he was sick and felt kind of nice – but then I freed myself from his embrace and cleared my throat, smoothing my clothes.

'Okay, I'm leaving.'

I didn't move a muscle.

Antonio looked at my frozen posture. 'No, you're not.'

I crossed my arms. 'I _am _leaving!'

'But you're still standing here!'

'Shut up! I _will_ be going, dammit! I'm just… waiting!'

'Waiting?' Antonio cocked his head, '…for what?'

God. That forgetful son of a bitch. I felt my face getting more and more flustered and stared at the tiles of his stupid floor. I was so _gay _for wanting this and even _waiting_ for it. Really, so, _so _fucking _gay_. I honestly believed that even if I was born into this world as a girl, I'd still be a blushing-male-gay-person. And shit like that. Only with a little less chest and a bit more… the fuck should I know… _Hungary_, I guess.

Meanwhile, Antonio was still being a brainless idiot. 'Lovi? I don't understand, just what are you waiting fo— _oh_.'

Aha. He seemed to remember. So that meant he actually _had _a brain. Or a memory, for all that mattered.

He laughed shortly and gently placed a finger under my chin, lifting it up slowly until my eyes met his green ones.

'Ah, forgive me for almost forgetting to kiss you goodbye, my love.'

'As if I even cared!' I spat. Then I wanted to slap myself. Hard. Shit, just _why_ did I always act like that? Did I always have to behave like an uptight asshole? Did that _really_ make me feel better? _Really_ now? Fucking hell!

But Antonio didn't even react on my mean words and simply leaned into my face to give me a sweet peck on the lips. And another one. And another one. And I let him, since I was way too busy blushing and stuff. Yeah, somebody had to do that, dammit. But then the thought of a waiting (or molesting, or whatever the hell he was doing right now) France came up into my disgustingly corny daydreams and I woke up into the real world again – I already was late, damn it, and this wasn't helping!

'G-goddammit, Spain, I've got to go!'

'Ah, but I won't let you!~'

'You DO realize you're weak as shit right now, right? Hell, I could push you away by only _blowing_ if I wanted to.'

'I certainly hope you want to.'

'…huh?'

Our conversation went on like this for a little bit, until finally realized what that (apparently just as sexually-frustrated) bastard was talking about. Then I stomped his foot with the destructive force of a very heavy pillow filled with equally heavy feathers – dammit, I still couldn't bring myself up to kick that jerk's ass – and tried to wiggle myself free out of his gentl- _suffocating _arms of death to make a dash for my car.

But, well, I found out that wasn't easy. It took me a while to peel the very clingy and whiny Spanish nation off me and even though I kind of liked to be needed so much by him at _some_ level, I was glad to get _out_ of Antonio's grasp and _into_ the car.

After all of that, it only cost me another half hour to convince Antonio to _get the fuck inside _the House and _myself_ to actually _start_ the car.

It was a very tiresome morning.

**xXx**

Paris. Let me tell you something about Paris.

It's a big, noisy, crowded city with not only lots and lots of _fucking evil_ roundabouts and confusing road signs, but it also has traffic jams, creatively _scattered _allover the place. Fucking hell. It took me friggin' hour full of bumpy riding in huge circles to really, _really_ be sure that I had actually _entered_ Paris. I'm serious, I was about to cry when I realized I could finally _see_ the Eiffel Tower – from a distance, but still.

Freaking big tower.

But anyways, I knew what my arrival in Paris meant – it meant that the first part of my investigation was about to begin.

In France's favorite city.

...what the _hell_ was I thinking?

**xXx**

After I had finally found a spot where I could park my car relatively safely (fucking stupid evil creepy beggars with freaking big knives and sharp _baguettes_, dammit), I got out of the car and decided to take a good look around me while walking to the restaurant France and I were supposed to meet.

I observed my surroundings as I walked down the narrow streets. Hm. Paris sure was a busy city. A city that was probably always active. There were lots of impressive monuments and statues here and there and I had to admit: the girls looked pretty fine. A bit… _whoa_, but still, pretty damn fine. Their asses looked nice, too, although everybody and his mom knew there was one particular tasty piece of ass that would overrule all of the other asses and that ass was A…

…y-yeah, so there were also a lot of other weird French people around, crossing the streets whenever they wanted to cross the street, carrying _pains_ and dozens of shopping bags. And as much as the unknown, very populated city scared me (fucking French people everywhere), I couldn't dislike it. I hated to admit it, but a lot of the French liveliness reminded me of the Spanish liveliness. Only the people weren't as laid-back and relaxed as I knew Spanish people could be. Like a certain Spanish guy I knew. Whose name I wasn't going to call, 'cause I wasn't thinking about him non-stop.

Strolling around in a capital city you don't know was at one point getting a bit too adventurous for me – I was sure I was being stalked by at least three persons who called me a –_insert pervy French word I didn't understand but still scared the shit out of me_– and only one of them was female. It was unsettling. I was about to shriek 'The hell with this city!' very masculine-like and run away with the dazzling speed of a freaking Vespa on _fire_, when I suddenly recognized the canopy roof of a building that was _right_ in front of me.

The canopy was green and white striped with curly white letters that spelled – no, _giggled_ the name '_Chez Janou'_. A not very spectacular, but nevertheless refined restaurant/lunchroom/the hell I knew. And who was sitting at one of the small, cast iron table in front of the entrance and singlehandedly made me feel nauseous like you wouldn't believe?

Yes: France the Fuckface.

But… he didn't make me feel nauseous just because I _saw_ him – my stomach can handle way more than just the sight of bearded perverts, thank you very much. No, it was the way he was staring at the little vase with the red rose in front of him. It wasn't right. He looked… well, worried. Upset. Maybe even slightly _depressed_. Like he was having doubts about something.

I frowned as I slowly approached him. Man, I couldn't even _imagine_ a depressed France. I mean, sure, he was always acting very dramatic and freaky whenever something bad had happened to him, but still… this was different. Unusual different. And somehow way more suspicious than normal. I was fucking _scared._

Just when I was about to poke him with a very long and random branch, he looked my way and his eyes became huge. Then his face twisted into a giant smirk and he stood up from his seat (knocking it over in the process), spreading his arms open wide.

'Romano! Romano! There you are! Romano! My little, late lovebird! I've been waiting for you, Romano!~'

…

…okay, screw this.

I paled, turned around immediately and wanted to dash the hell away from that fucked-up creep, when suddenly a very hairy and resolute hand grabbed one of my wrists.

'You silly little Italian! We're not in the middle of wartime, you cute thing, you! Now, come and sit down with me!~'

Instead of swearing and trying to yank me free from his grasp, I actually _obeyed _and followed him.

Yeah. That was weird.

**xXx**

The Frenchman kept on chattering happily about all sorts of crap while he dragged me back to his table and knocked-over chair. Then he calmly pushed me down in the empty chair on the other side of the table, after which he picked up his own chair and sat down on it, winking at me.

'Looking good, you murderous, bitchy wonderboy.'

I cringed. Ew, what the _fuck_? 'Y-you bastard, make one wrong move and I'm gonna-'

'You're gonna do what? Go back to Spain, to my lovely _Antoine_?' France chuckled, shaking his head, '…now now, Roma, I don't think you came all the way over here to run back to Spain again, hmm?~'

I didn't answer him, I just scowled. I always scowled. That's what I did: scowling. Pretty damn useless, but I was good at it. Figures.

'A-alright then, I came here with a reason, yes.'

He nodded and rested his head into his hands, his expression suddenly changing into a serious one. 'I knew it, I just knew it. Oh Lord…'

I blinked with my eyes and eyed the French bastard oddly. '…what are you saying "Oh Lord" for?'

France gave me a friendly smile – one of the most _normal_ smiles he had ever given to me – and wanted to say something, when suddenly a rushed waiter in a white shirt put down two plates with nicely folded cheese omelet's and fresh salad's in front of us.

I stared at the food. 'What the—'

'Oh, I already ordered for us,' France stated simply, unwrapping his cutlery from his serviette, '…you don't mind, do you? After all, I know how much you and your adorable little brother love my food.'

Shit. That stupid French jackass knew too much of me, dammit. Probably because Feliciano had told him. Or Antonio. Or the both of them. Ugh, I was so going to kick their asses later.

…but first, I might as well eat something.

**xXx**

The weird ambiance kept hanging around us while we were eating, but luckily enough I was too occupied with stuffing my face to really notice the glances France gave to me every once in a while.

Although it did get very annoying at one point. Too annoying, dammit, I couldn't even enjoy my French food or the arousing fantasies popping up in my head about me and An- _somebody_, for god's sake.

Finally, I had enough of it and looked up from my – almost empty – plate. 'What the fuck's wrong with you? Stop staring at me like an old man and tell me what the hell's going on, you ass!'

'Okay, I can't act like nothing's wrong anymore.' France looked away from his half-eaten omelet with a – slightly overdramatic – jolt and sighed. 'Romano, I _know_ why you wanted to see me.'

A piece of omelet started to bubble up from my stomach and I swallowed heavily to avoid any nasty possibilities from happening. 'You… you know?'

'Yes! Of course!' He flipped back his hair and suddenly took a strong hold of both of my hands – which he did pretty skillfully, as I was still holding a knife and fork.

I cursed and tried to free myself. 'Fuck! Let go, you moron!'

He conveniently ignored that and took a deep breath. 'Romano! I know everything! I've heard the rumors, too!'

'Rumors? What fucking rumors!' I asked him, bewildered and _very_ pissed-off.

'I perfectly understand how hard it must be for a young man like you to not be able to have sex for at least three months…'

I flushed. 'F-fucking hell, who told you that!'

'…and _of course_, it _is_ quite hard to stay true to your sick Spanish lover when you know a very attractive and hot Frenchman is right around the corner…'

'…wait, _what_?'

'…but I've got to turn you down, Roma- ouch!' France let go of me as I viciously began to jab my knife into the palm of his hand, but he still continued talking.

'You see, it's not that I don't _want_ to shag you – because believe me, after all those horny sex-stories of _Antoine_ I'd _love_ to spend a night with you – but I _can't_.'

'Seriously… _what_?' I repeated.

'Toni's a very dear friend of mine, Romano. I… I would _never_ hurt him by having sex with you, _ever_. I care too much about him.'

'I…'

'Besides, his axe is _freakishly_ big.'

'Look, you…'

'And the last time I tried to get into your pants, he beat me up so bad that he made me lose all of my memories of 2003.'

'You're such a…'

'I'm really sad about that. I miss remembering 2003. Did anything important happen back then?'

'HEY!'

I slammed a fist on the table and sent a spoon flying across the table. I was shaking with anger and downright loathing and shook my head fanatically – maybe I overdid that part, since I was a bit dizzy when I finally stopped moving it (in a thousand fucking directions).

France stared at shocked figure boorishly and tapped his chin. 'Hmm? What is it, now?'

Fucking bastard, acting like he wasn't the main reason I was making a complete fool out of myself!

I gritted my teeth. 'You… you got it all wrong, you blond creep! I don't want to have sex with you! Oh my god, I wouldn't want to have sex with you for all the sick Spaniards in the _world_! I fucking _hate_ you, asshole! And I _don't_ sleep with guys I hate! I'm not _Spain_!'

'Really?' France took a carefree sip from his wine – wait, there was wine? – and kept staring at me. '…so… you're saying you _don't_ want to have sex with me? Even though _Antoine_ is giving you a hard time and your sexual frustration is beginning to get out of control?'

'That right! No sexy business, whatsoever!' I huffed. I said it pretty solidly, but even I heard the pitiful tone underneath it. It was nothing to be really proud of, actually.

France frowned in confusion. 'But if you hate me so much – which wounds me _deeply_, by the way – _why_, Roma, _why_ did you want to see me then?'

'I…' I licked my lips a couple of times, the upper one as well as the lower one, '…I want to know what I have to do to top Spain in bed, dammit!'

His eyes widened. 'Oh?'

'T-that's why I'm here! I know you were one of the nations that topped Spain…' I shivered when I thought about it, but carried on anyway, '…and I want you to give me advice of how I should do it!'

France was quiet for a moment or two. He suddenly sighed a relieved sigh and nodded a bit, offering me a mischievous grin that made me shiver even more.

'Oh, very well then… I'll be happy to tell you, Romano...~'


	4. Humps

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I can't believe I already have over 50 reviews… you're all so generous and nice to me, you can't imagine how much I appreciate all of your support! So thank you all, once again! _^^ _This (even __**longer**__) chapter is for you wonderful people!~_

_A/n2: I hand out internet-cookies for the ones who manage to spot my weird nickname in this huge load of text. And it actually fits, too! Ah, just see for yourself!_

_A/n3: For the people who might read this and wonder who Femke is (I think most of you do know who she is, but still): she's Belgium. _

_A/n4: I think I almost crossed the line somewhere near the end…_

_Now, on with the story! Let me know if you liked it! _^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter IV:

_**My Humps  
**__**(Black Eyed Peas)**_

'Ah yes, those were the good times…

France sighed blissfully and swirled the wine in his glass – he always did that, what the hell was that, couldn't he just drink the fucking wine already – and leant on one of his elbows, looking at me he like he was about to tell me a fantastic fairy-tale and not a fucking disgusting story about how he and Antonio used to _do it_.

I felt a shiver running down my spine and twitched a bit, but didn't say a word and nodded at the Frenchman, as if I was encouraging him to keep on talking.

He saw my growing anxiety and smiled reassuring. 'Oh, don't you worry, Romano – I won't tell you the juicy details. There, aren't I a thoughtful big brother?~'

I narrowed my eyes. 'Fuck you. You're not my "big brother".'

He shrugged and drank some of his wine. 'Really, how _Antoine_ manages to keep up with your horrible temper beats me. You're such a mean little bastard.'

'G-goddamn it, just talk already, asshole!' My knees were trembling. It was a good thing I was sitting down, alright.

'Fine fine…' He moved his chair closer to the table and leaned more forward, folding his fingers together, '…ah, where to begin? Hm… well, for starters, how much do you _want_ to know?'

I gripped my legs and looked away from the fuckface. 'I… want to know a _lot_. Everything that can come in handy, I guess... And then I want you to tell me what I should do, according to you. Since you're such an… _expert_ in that area, according to most people.'

'Ah, they just keep on thinking that, don't they…' France mused, staring at a point in the distance with a somewhat sad smile on his face, '…but alright then, I begin.'

I nodded again. Why the hell did I nod? And why did my stomach feel like I just ate a fucking _brick_ instead of a pretty tasty omelet?

It didn't matter anymore – France was already talking.

'Right. First of all, I want you to know that Toni and I never fell in love with each other back then. Okay? We didn't. We were too busy yanking each other's chains, I suppose, for something as petty as love. We were having lots of wars and there was a lot of civilian stuff happening and to be completely honest with you, we just didn't had the time to fall in love – with _anybody_. And we pretty much disliked each other very much, so yeah.' He explained.

I frowned. 'Weren't you two friends? _Best_ friends? Since _forever_?'

France smiled. 'Aren't you as sharp as a _knife_ today, Romano! You're right – of course we were best friends!~ But there were also times in which we hated each other's guts! Like that time you were given to Toni by Austria! Don't you remember anymore? I stalked you all the time and I always tried to take you away from _Antoine_! He wasn't very happy with that, I can tell you!'

'Evil bastard.' I scowled.

'Why, thank you.' He grinned. 'Anyway… yes, _Antoine_ and I were pretty good friends, just like you said. Aside from the stupid misunderstandings, we mostly supported each other through thick and thin, also during very difficult and hard times, like when we where … oh, let's say, _extremely_ horny and needed to release our sexual frustrations. Of course, there was never a beautiful woman in sight whenever _that _kicked in, so we decided to just do it with each other. That way, we also didn't bother others with our egoistical needs.'

'H-how… how was that?' I asked quietly.

'Hmm? Well, at first, a bit weird. I mean, that's _not exactly_ what friends are for, you'd say. But, well… since we didn't give a damn about things like a healthy friendship, love or trust anyway, we didn't let that stop us. We were having a rough time back then and we were fabulous lovers, so yeah, I guess the rushed, mindless sex we had was fantastic. A bit quick, but great.'

'Y-yeah, that's… that's _great_.' I swallowed, trying to ignore the rapid beating of my distressed heart, '…and… well… why did you decide…h-he had to be the one receiving?'

France blinked. 'What a strange question, Romano. We didn't decide anything – it just _happened_. I suppose it kind of felt natural for me to be the one topping, just like it must be natural for you to be the one bottoming – no offence – but honestly, we didn't care about who screwed who. We just occasionally had sex without _any _feelings except mind-blowing _frustration_, that's all. There's no big story behind it, really.'

'Ah…' I stared at my plate. I felt a bit relieved to hear Antonio _probably_ just had sex with France because of the sex, but still… I couldn't imagine Antonio, with all of that burning passion he has got inside of him, had had stupid, meaningless sex with France, one of his closest friends. It sounded so… _wrong_. But France said it still was very good sex, even without having any feelings. So did this mean that Antonio doesn't need to be in love with somebody to have a good fuck? He just… _always_ has?

Yeah, I guess that's pretty fucking _pleasant_ for him, but… isn't making love… well…

…isn't it better with actual _feelings _of love?

…isn't it better with… with _me_?

A sudden chuckle from France made me look up with a shock, only to find him observing me, obviously amused to bits by my stupid insecurity. Shit! I felt caught red-handed and flushed instantly. 'W-what, dammit!'

He smiled. 'He told me you're the best he has ever had, you know?'

My heart fluttered and my breath suddenly hitched in my throat. I stared at him for a couple of seconds. I didn't know what to say to that, really. But I _did_ know my face was getting very hot again.

'…the best he has ever had, huh?' I finally muttered, fighting an intense internal struggle to avoid a very small, but still very _real_ smile from appearing on my damn, blushing face.

'That's what he said, yes, ' France confirmed, '…and you know what, my sweet little pain in the ass? I believe him. Having sex with _feelings_, _emotions,_ with somebody you actually _love,_ sounds great. Maybe I should try it once! Oh my! How bold of me! I might swoon!'

I didn't really pay attention to him, since my head was currently being invaded by fucking fluffy thoughts of _love _and _heart-shaped_ _clouds _and _symbolic shit_ which were all about a certain sick Spaniard. Shit, I wanted to hug that forever-smiling bastard _really_ badly right now. I wasn't even trying to fucking _deny_ it anymore. I wish he was here.

France eventually grew tired of watching me quietly experiencing my newfound respect for Antonio and groaned – _loudly_.

'Why, in the name of _all_ that's good in this world, do you manage to act "genuinely" _surprised _whenever you're reminded of the simple fact that Toni loves you? It's _painfully_ obvious, if you ask me. He's mind-blowing sweet towards you and the idiot worships the ground you walk on.' France smirked sarcastically. 'Tsssk. And _you_ want to make _me_ believe you're _still_ not aware of all that? Come on now, you cute little hypocrite!~ You can't be _that_ stupid!'

'J-just shut up and go to hell already, fucking jackass!'

I blushed even more and turned my head. G-goddammit, I couldn't possibly tell him that I apparently _was _just _that_ stupid. I mean, why else would there be fucking _butterflies on crack_ flying around in my stomach all of a sudden, dammit…

'Ah, your stupid love for _Antoine _moves me so, Romano…' He reached for his mobile phone and flipped it open, pressing some buttons, '…but could you please shut your adorable trap for a minute or two? I'm going to call somebody and it's important.'

What the hell? That anti-social bastard! I abruptly snapped out of my temporary daze – thank _god_ – and shot an angry glare at the Frenchman. 'You fucking arrogant jerk! Don't go call somebody when we're having a conversation, dammit!'

He gave me an annoyed look back. 'Shut up or I'll kiss you.'

I paled and immediately stopped talking. I even considered to stop _breathing_ for a moment.

'Good boy.' He grinned, heaved a sigh and suddenly started to talk in rapid, upbeat French. It sounded like total gibberish to me, but hey, I guess he must've thought that of other languages, too.

Just when I was beginning to wonder who the fuck he had decided to call out of the blue, he just as unexpectedly hang up again and focused all of his attention on me, leaning a bit over the cast table.

'Sorry about that. But anyway, Romano… how's _Antoine_ doing these days, hmm? Feeling a bit better already?'

I blinked. I've never seen somebody avoiding a very-likely-to-be-asked-question by changing topics _that_ obviously before. But I decided to play along with it – I wasn't in the mood for throwing a tantrum anyway – and shrugged.

'I don't know for sure. He's… y'know, _Spain_. He acts like he's totally fit, but changes into a fucking terminal patient the minute I turn my back at him.'

France chuckled, moving a bit backwards so a nervous-looking waiter could take away the empty plates. 'Yes, that's Toni, alright. Always trying to make others feel comfortable, completely ignoring his own needs in the progress…'

I fidgeted with the tablecloth. 'Y-yeah… he's —'

'…and do you know what that's called, Romano?' He rattled, _right_ _through_ my poor, defenseless sentence, '…that's called a _chance_, my pretty!'

'…the fuck are you talking about?'

France snickered, teasingly shaking his head. 'Oh no no! I'll be glad to tell you, but please be patient for a little longer, Roma. Just wait until my parcel gets here. Then everything will explain itself… Okay?~'

I frowned. His parcel? When did he order a… Oh. So _that's_ what that phone call was for.

'I guess I've got no choice but wait, have I?' I grumbled, tearing up my serviette because I needed to let the world and Paris know I was angry and killing paper tissues was the best way to show it. At this moment.

'Nope, you haven't got a choice, whatsoever.' France beckoned another waiter. '…so why don't you sit back and have some delicious, _Spanish_ wine in the meantime, hm? My _Spanish_ treat!~'

I blushed deeper. Fucking evil piece of ass-wipe, using my weakness against anything _Spanish_ like a fucking calculated psychopath!

…but I took the offer, of course.

**xXx**

France's (_evil_) parcel arrived very soon – the fuckface and I hadn't even taken a single sip from the wine yet when suddenly a skanky-dressed girl showed up at our table with a shockingly plain-looking parcel. She grumbled something French (and _evil_) and put the parcel on the table with a firm _thud_, before she turned around and took off again, her high-heels click-clacking over the pavement.

'Thanks, Marie!' France called after her, '…but next time, I don't want you to show up in such decent clothes! Come on, I haven't bought all those sexy things - just – for _me_, you know?'

The girl shouted something back. It must have been something really bitchy, since the other guests on the terrace of the restaurant gasped and started to murmur, giving France pitiful looks.

'Ah… she just never wants to wear the _slighly naughty_ dresses I buy her… it's so hard to find _good_ maids these days, you know?' France mused sadly, staring at the retreating figure of his… maid, apparently, before sighing again and beaming a cunning smile at me. '…ah well, that's the story of my life, I suppose! But enough about that – here! Open up, Romano, it's something I had lying around in my closet for special cases!' He pointed at the parcel.

'It's a dead body, right?' I asked hoarsely and moved away from him and the parcel a bit more.

He gave a fake laugh. 'Don't be silly, Romano. I don't keep dead bodies in my closet! That's what _cellars_ are for.'

I stared at him, absolutely horrified.

'I was _joking_, Romano.' He rolled his eyes and shoved the parcel my way. 'Ugh, you're as naïve as your cute little brother, aren't you? Just open up the parcel already, dear, I haven't got all day.'

I still eyed him suspiciously, but then my curiosity kicked in and made me grab the box. My hands might have trembled a bit when I – slowly – opened the damn parcel, but I had all right to tremble and be very scared, since I had _accepted_ a probably very disturbing gift from the biggest ass-groping, my-stupid-but-sinfully-attractive-boyfriend-molesting pervert on earth.

After gathering a freaking big amount of courage, I stiffly put my hands into the parcel and felt a soft, feather-like, silky sensation tickling against my fingers and palms. I released a breath I didn't even know I was restraining. Okay, good, at the very least it didn't feel dead or dangerous. Also, it didn't bite me. Alright, I took back what I said: maybe the creepy parcel from France wasn't _that_ creepy. Maybe I even… kind of like it, dammit. It just felt really good!

'What is it?' I asked the French fucker in front of me while touching the contains of the box a bit better.

He smiled mysteriously and shrugged. 'Ah, who knows, Romano? Only one way for you to find out, darling.'

'Oh _god_. Stop calling me embarrassing names already, dumbass.' I grumbled, annoyed, and stared at the parcel. I really wanted to know what that box was containing, dammit. I hesitated for a moment, but then I suddenly gripped the nice feeling underneath my hands a bit better and pulled it before pulling it out of its carton cage.

Just a second later, I wished I hadn't done that.

**xXx**

Yes.

It was a _dress_.

A very short, very delicate, very revealing and very girlish dress. With stylish ruffles in the fabric, straps with little bows on them and _glitters_ on the see-through skirt. Everything in a stylish, soft blue color.

I gaped at the thing in terror and turned as white as a fucking _sheet_. What the_ hell_?

'I can see you like it, no?' France said with a proud grin on his face, '…ah, I should have known you were into stuff like this! _Antoine_ was right – you really _are_ one kinky, tomato-faced pervert!~'

My face was very happy to welcome another horrible blush coming up and looked up to France, revolted and embarrassed to the friggin' _bone_. _What_?

'I feel your pain.' France grimaced, obviously sickly amused with my misery. 'I wish I could also say I feel sorry for you for having such an oblivious lover, but I really don't like you. So I won't. Awww.'

Shit, that damned… I gritted my teeth, stuffed the stupid blue thing back in its stupid parcel and shot a look at France, so _**evil**_, so _**foul**_ that even the devil itself couldn't top the darkness of it.

'What's the _fucking_ meaning of this, you sick _bastard!'_

He looked at me weirdly. 'Whoa, easy now, tiger. What's with that glare of death? Are you ashamed, maybe? Don't be! It's alright to have a kink like enjoying to dress up like a sassy little girl, you know – I have it, too! Finally something we have in common!~ Isn't that grea—'

'THAT'S NO FUCKING KINK OF _MINE_!' I hollered, gripping the side of the table, 'THAT'S A KINK OF THAT SPANISH MANIAC, YOU _ASSHOLE_!'

'Oh.' France said slowly, like he suddenly remembered something important. '…well, that actually _does_ sound more obvious, yes. It also explains _so much_, yet so little about Toni. Oh well...'

'F-fucking moron… shit…' I breathed heavily and flopped down on my chair again – because yes, apparently, I had _stood_ up during the wonderful moments I had screeched like a _motherfucking, bazooka-wearing madman _on a_ frenzy_. Fucking _great_.

In the meantime, the guests of '_Chez Janou' _had turned their heads to our table and stared at me with faces that were drained of all color. Most of them then abruptly decided to get the _hell_ away from that hysterical Italian and evil Frenchman, the legs of their chairs scratching over the pavement harshly before they took off as fast as they could.

Which turned out to be pretty damn fast: in less than a minute, the terrace was completely empty, aside from me and France.

And that was a good thing, as I could finally punch that sly schmuck in the face peacefully.

**xXx**

'…okay, let me tell you why I gave you this adorable babydoll-dress, Romano.'

France smiled weakly, holding the cool bottle of wine against the angry, red, hand-shaped mark across his cheek.

I crossed my arms and frowned. 'It's about time you do, fuckface.'

The French nation frowned in dismay, but (very wisely) pretended to not have heard. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, just to increase the drama of it all. As soon as his eyes _suddenly_ snapped open again (which scared the ever-loving _crap_ out of me, dammit) and a nasty grin appeared on his stupid face, I knew he had forgotten the whole slap-incident already.

'Romano…' he started intensely, as if he was about to tell me about a world-changing conspiracy theory, '…how do you _feel_… whenever you're wearing a dress-like piece of cloth?'

Oh _god_. I felt my anger boiling up again and drew in a deep, shaking breath, before raising a trembling forefinger and thumb, almost pressing them together.

'I'm _this_ fucking close to breaking my chair – with your _face_.'

'I'm serious, Romano,' France said, ignoring my threats as usual, and leaned a bit forward. '…you feel awfully exposed when you're wearing something like this, right? You feel vulnerable, weak and completely helpless. You feel like everything can overpower you within seconds and you can't seem to find enough testosterone to _man up_ and simply rip the humiliating dress apart. You also can't fight against any upcoming danger, because you're too embarrassed to do so. So you yield – to _everything_.'

Oh. I swallowed and flushed instantly. I all of a sudden remembered the last time Antonio had convinced me to wear a dress. I had felt so damn weak and turned o—_disgusted_, I still shuddered whenever I thought of it. It was on a sunny day in February – his birthday? Or Valentine's Day? – and he had looked absolutely _breathtakingly handsome_ in his black suit. For some reason, he had managed to talk me into a dress and then there was some touching and gasping and some ripping of expensive clothes and then some mind-blowing sex _like_ _you wouldn't fucking believe_. Oh _Lord_, he was _so_ _very_ good at making me feel…

…okay, s-so maybe I didn't dislike him calling me his princess _that_ much. M-maybe.

'You know what I mean, right?' France said, his annoying voice bringing me down to earth again.

I nodded a bit. 'I… might be familiar with the concept, yeah.'

France smirked. 'I bet you are.'

'Go fuck yourself!'

'Maybe later.' he said and simply hand-waved my snarling comment away, '…but anyway, since you know what I mean about the humiliation of wearing dresses while being a man, it might be a very good idea to turn the tables for once, don't you agree?'

'Go on...' I muttered, not admitting I had trouble to keep up with his way of thinking because I fucking hadn't, dammit!

France laughed and showed me the dress again, his hands stroking the fabric. 'What I mean is… why don't you try to get _Antoine_ into this nice piece of babydoll, Romano?'

I made a face. 'Look, I know Spain is crazy about dressing others up like a girl, but really – I'm not into that. At _all_. It gives me the creeps to think about the way he'd look like.'

And then I actually thought about it, of course.

'_Ooh, Lovi! Now that I'm wearing this way too short babydoll that is hugging every muscle of my scrumptious body, I suddenly feel so vulnerable! Oh, I tripped!~ Ooh, look at that! Now my wonderful, blue-clad ass is sticking up in the air! What are you going to do about that, hmm?~ *giggles and wiggles ass*' _

Jesus _Christ_.

'Oh Romano, quit looking like a scared Italian deer caught in the headlights already. I'm not saying you should have sex with _Antoine_ while he's still _in_ the dress,' France said, becoming a bit impatient, '…I'm just saying it'll be easier for a wuss like you to overcome him when he's wearing it. And as soon as you have him down, you can get rid of the dress as quick as you want – oh, and on whatever _way_ you want…'

'…w-whatever way I want?' I repeated slowly. That sounded pretty exciting.

France noticed my increasing blush and beamed a smile at me while beckoning yet another waiter – probably for the bill, or to spank him on the ass. Or both.

'That's right, Roma, my little pervy-minded friend,' France said and accepted the bill a pale-faced young waiter gave to him, '…get Toni into the dress and he'll be yours, all whiny and bottom-tastic. Maybe he'll even cry a bit during sex. You know. Like _you_ usually do, according to _Antoine_. Because you like it_ just that much_.'

'Maybe I should kill both you and _Antoine_.'

I hissed and rubbed my burning cheeks, squeezing the tablecloth afterwards. T-that fucking Spanish tattletale _promised_ me he wouldn't tell anybody, dammit!

That's it, I had to punish that fucked-up Spaniard! Punish him _good_!

'So… do you know what to do, now that you have my dress? Or do you need more instructions?'

France interrupted my kind of satisfying fantasies of me whacking the living daylights of Antonio with a very dangerous and very shrap piece of paper – shut up, he was still sick and shit – and gave me an inquiring look. After swiftly spanking the waiter.

I looked at him in surprise, forgetting my anger for a moment. 'Wait, so… _that's_ your advice? Lure Spain into a dress and go nuts with him?'

He nodded. 'Or go bananas.'

Weird creep.

'I don't know…' I mumbled and took the parcel with the dress from him, '…are you _sure_ that's all it takes for me to top him? Nothing more?'

The Frenchman looked up to the already darkening sky and nodded again, but a bit slower this time, as if he wasn't too sure about it. 'Yes… well… it depends on how _you're_ going to handle that situation, Roma. In theory, you're in advantage: he's sick and weak, you're healthy and… well, let's keep it at that, shall we? You're healthy! Great! Go for it!~'

I knitted my eyebrows. 'Asshole.'

'I love you too.' He smiled and blew me a kiss.

That was the moment I realized it was time to go hom—I mean, to go to Antonio's place. Not home. _Antonio's_ place. What wasn't my place.

I said goodbye to France (= threw a fist in his face when he tried to feel me up in the very last minute before I left) and drove back to Spain (= circled around Paris for at least two fucking hours before finally leaving the city of terror and despair and said _bonjour_ to the nice traffic jam, what apparently had been waiting for me and was _very_ glad to see me).

**xXx**

It already was 9:50 PM when I arrived at Antonio's House.

_Thank god I was finally back from that French hell hole of doom and death and snails and oh god yes yes yes save at last._

I got out of the car and dragged myself to the front door. Holy shit. I was tired. Drained. In pain. Stressed. Pissed-off. I would probably snap somebody's neck if an unwanted person showed up in front of me right now. And with unwanted person, I meant France.

I had actually _survived_ a whole day of France – and today had been full of France, I tell you. I had thought that would make me feel pretty damn great about myself but to be honest, it only made me feel like the worst boyfriend on earth. I had hung out with a guy I hated with a fiery passion while my sick lover had been at home, coughing and sneezing and there probably would be vomit all over the place and he would be lying in bed, face white and wrinkled, still wearing the same clothes as he did yesterday, having little tissues surrounding him like little angels and _what the hell had been in that fucking omelet for making me talk out of my fucking ass like this_.

My eyes stared at the box in my hands and I sighed, tucking it underneath my arm. And now, Lovino? What were you planning on doing now? Jumping the bastard? Forcing him into a dress? _Screw_ him? Really, Lovino? Even though he was sick and _probably_ needed your love and care more than anything else right now?

Ugh. I really was the lousiest boyfriend in the world, right? Dammit…

I bit my lower lip as a mild punishment for my self-centeredness and wanted to search my pockets for the keys, when suddenly the doors _slammed _open and a very happy Spaniard was pushing my face into his chest, hugging me tightly.

'Lovi!~ There you are! You're back! You're back at last! I'm so happy!'

W-what the fucking hell! Stupid bastard almost giving me a heart-attack by popping up like that, that goddamned bastard with his stupid smile and stupid arms and… and…

…and it felt really nice to be held by him like this. Oh god. He had such soft arms. And he smelled like the summer. Fucking omelet. A huge blush spread across my face and I gulped, slowly raising my head so I could look at him.

'Y-yes yes, I'm back. H-hi.'

As every good and feisty Italian, I hoped my voice sounded gruff and indifferent when I greeted him.

As every good and worried lover, I hoped he could still hear the trembling tone of my voice.

Antonio smiled broadly and loosened his grip around me a bit more, so we could stand face to face a bit more comfortable.

'Ah, I hope you've eaten something on your way hom— I-I mean, on your way back to Spain, because I'm afraid I fell asleep on the kitchen floor while washing the tomatoes and I didn't wake up until an hour ago! Isn't that funny!~'

I snorted. 'No.'

'I'll just pretend I didn't hear that!~'

I studied his face carefully as he blabbered on. Antonio looked better than he did when I left. His face wasn't really pale or really red anymore – sure, his cheeks were still flushed, but that was partly because of me. Probably. Hopefully.  
He had – finally – changed his clothes and I didn't see saliva, vomit or anything else that was gross and nasty spread in the hall behind him. Everything seemed to be fine.

'How do you feel?' I asked him, interrupting a sentence.

Since he was my—n-no, not mine, _a_ stupid moron, he didn't mind it at all, of course, and smiled brightly at me as he answered.

'I feel a bit better, Lovi! I think it's because I've slept very much today, never left my bed before preparing dinner and didn't have Gilbert or Femke over for watching movies with me and keeping me company!~'

Sure. And France and I went camping on the top of Mont Blanc. And bought friendship-bracelets on our way up. Pink ones.

Spanish bastard couldn't lie if his life depended on it.

I decided to ignore his blatant lie, since the activities he had today probably had a good effect on his well-being, and put my hand on his forehead instead.

Antonio stopped talking and the faint red color on his cheeks became more radiant. 'L-Lovino?'

'Just checking your temperature.' I said and tried to avoid the weird, intense look he all of a sudden gave to me because _oh god_ I knew that look. I hadn't seen it in three months, but of course I'd still be able to recognize it everywhere, every time. The look of love and happiness and downright _everything-devouring_ _lust_.

Oh _shit_.

'U-um…' I withdrew my hand and was suddenly very aware of the parcel underneath my arm, clutching it more tightly like it was a fucking _lifeline_, '…y-your fever has gone down a bit, I think. And y-your forehead… it's not that hot anymore.'

Antonio chuckled and softly pressed his forehead against mine. I forgot to breath when two shining green eyes stared at me lovingly, passionately, while his hands stroke up and down my back. Up and down. Up and down.

'Ah, but _your_ forehead _is _hot, Lovi. Very hot. I can feel it.' he said and nuzzled my forehead. He brushed away a couple of bangs of hair and kissed me there. A sweet, cautious kiss. To test the water, probably. He always checked how I reacted before continuing his touches and kisses and he was ridiculously careful with me. But I felt he was restraining himself from simply ravishing me. I knew that if I only did as much as nod, he would probably unleash all of his built-up sexual frustration on me and make me gasp for breath for the rest of the night.

I shivered. Tempting. Very tempting.

B-but I had a mission! I couldn't give in!

'Lovino…'

I screwed my eyes shut as Antonio's lips were suddenly on my neck, kissing and licking me, his hands caressing my cheeks gently. His warm breath touched my skin ever so slightly as he pulled away to look me in the eyes.

'…I think I'm very ready to have sex with you right now, Lovino…'

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think. Something familiar was pressed against my thigh. Oh god.

'Lovi…' He kissed me firmly and kept on talking, his lips still connected with mine, '…ah, I know you want it, too… so… is it okay, my love?'

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

'Y-yes…' I heard myself stammer and didn't give him a chance to say or do anything else as I pushed him back with trembling, nervous hands, '…b-but only if you want to do something for me.'

He stared at me, looking just as surprised as I thought he would be. He didn't need the time to think about it though and smiled at me.

'I'd do everything for you, Lovino.'

I had to swallow.


	5. Bottom

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: First of all, I want to thank **all of the anonymous reviewers **I haven't thanked before – thank you all so much for your support! I'm glad you took the time to give me a review! Some of you guys really made me laugh with your dry, but hilarious comments!~ Thanks again!_

_A/n2: Good god, the chapters just keep on getting longer… I blame all of you kind reviewers for it! Yes, you! _*points*

_A/n3: Alright, let's hand out some internetcookies! Congratulations, __**Verito.S**__,__** Tamer Lorika**__,__** Semetastic **__and__** Yuri n' Chuka**__, for spotting my name!~ The fictional cookies are coming your way with the speed of light! _*dances*

_A/n4: I'm doing a very risky polonaise with the rating again… Oh well!~ _*dances some more*

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter V:

_**Fat-Bottomed Girls  
**__**(Queen)**_

'Ah, you're so cute, Lovi… so very cute… I just can't handle myself around you…'

Antonio smiled and kissed me again. This time even more demanding than the last kiss, but it still was very sweet, very tender and very _good._ Oh yes, it certainly was good. I leaned more into the kiss and had to remind myself I needed to keep a hold on the parcel, for the thing was slowly slipping away. A-and it's pretty damn difficult to stay focused on stuff like that when a hot Spaniard is trying to nibble and kiss his way into your mouth.

Because… Antonio was _excellent_ at kissing. A-and he was a darn good… l-lover. Well, no shit he was, since he was also the fucking country of passion and all that jazz, but still… there just was no one better than him. I was sure of that. In fact, I really liked the idea of me paying a quick visit to each and every country in Europe (too lazy to go further), just to rub those losers in their stupid faces that _my_ lover was the best of the fucking _world_, and that they and their lovers all _sucked,_ compared to Antonio.

And then I'd _fucking run for the hills_.

Of course, I was too much of a lousy coward to actually _do_ that, but it still was nice to fantasize about it.

Now I wasn't bad at doing sexy stuff either. I never heard Antonio complain about my performance in the bedroom, so naturally, I also was freakishly good. Not surprising at all, of course. Hell, I was in the top 5 of world's best lovers, too! You bet I fucking _tapped_ that Spanish ass!

…well. Not really. Usually, that Spanish ass tapped _mine_.

Which didn't feel _good_ or anything. No, it didn't. I was just _really_ convincing at pretending it did. Although I didn't exactly _dislike_ it, either. His hands were always so _firm _and _warm_ and this sure as _hell_ wasn't _me_ talking, but still that fucking poisoned _omelet_ France gave to me. Fucking egg made me think all kinds of hot—I mean, embarrassing stuff, dammit!

A-anyway, tonight would be different! Tonight, I'd be the one in charge! I'd be the one who did all of the stroking and kissing and biting! And you bet your sorry ass I was ready for that!

…but when I heard myself moan a little the moment Antonio's hands disappeared underneath my shirt (still going up and down my back, up and down, _so slowly_), I thought I'd better do something drastic _quickly_, before I (maybe kind of) willingly ended on my back once again.

Yes, I should do something.

He wrapped his arms around me tighter and deepened the kiss, his tongue softly rubbing against mine as he happily hummed something sweet.

Y-yes. I really should do… something…

His hands went down further and further, until I felt he was stroking and caressing the curves of my ass, slowly pulling me closer to his own body. I sighed a shivering sigh. Oh my god, he already was _very_… and I felt I also… and… his hands… and his mouth… and his… tongue…

I really _really really really absolutely_ should do something now. G-goddammit, if only he'd let me think for a moment!

H-however, as long as we just kept kissing, I… I guess there was nothing to be worried about, right? H-he was allowed to dominate the kissing-part, that was alright…

Too bad kissing in this position was kind of… painful. My arms were all cramped up, dammit. My left arms was bent awkwardly around Antonio's back and my right arm still had that stupid parcel to take care of, while I really wanted to h-h-hold that moron a bit b-better, I really wanted to be very, very close to him right now, I wanted to feel his warmth and his touch and his kisses better and I _really_ should put the damn box _down _already. Carefully, of course, because it was a exquisite, delicate dress. From France the Fuckface.

Huh.

Maybe I should _burn_ it.

Antonio suddenly pulled one hand out of my pants to grab my right arm and catch my attention. He carefully slid down that same arm and stopped kissing for a moment to look at me. His breathing was hard and heavy, his eyes a bit darker than they were before.

'Lovi, would you… come closer? I can't hold you the way I want to hold you like this…'

I stared at him with dazed eyes and tried to recollect myself. What was that weird sound? Oh god, was that _me_ making those noises? Was I fucking _panting_ already? Holy fucking shit.

'Lovi…' Antonio's voice was soft and hopeful, as he took a hold of my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine, '…ah, I've longed for this evening to come for so many months… I really think it's about time I give you the attention you deserve so much… so please, let me hold you… let me _love_ you, my lovely Lovino…'

Well, you could practically mop me up after that.

So I instantly dropped the parcel on the floor with and winded – no, _threw_ my arms around Antonio's neck, pulling him close.

'O-okay, I'm closer, so… g-go ahead… you can… you can h-hold me… c-continue, please…'

Then I closed my eyes and puckered my lips expectantly. Okay, you bastard… kiss me. _Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me please kiss me I want you to kiss me I love how you kiss me so much so kiss me and—_

'Hey, a parcel!~' Antonio chirped.

…_what_.

I opened my eyes and the minute I saw Antonio looking at the fallen parcel beside me in curiosity, I knew the moment was gone. Woosh, thrown _right_ outside the window. Just like that.

And just when it was about to get really good, too. I gritted my teeth. That _stupid moronic awful idiotic Spanish evil_ bastard! Fuck!

'What's in it, Lovi?' he asked me, his eyes green and bright and _not at all_ dark and dangerous anymore when he looked at me again, '…ah, could it be a present? For me? Ah, that's— ouch! Why did you pinch me for!'

'Because you're an inconsiderate bastard, _that's_ why,' I growled and heaved a sigh, pushing him away. '…thanks for ruining the mood, dammit. I'll tell you what's in the fucking parcel, alright? Just shut up and get your hand out of my pants.'

He pouted. 'But I want to keep it there! Your butt feels so nice!~ Ah, I almost forgot how kneadable and lovely it is! And soft, too!~ I want to squeeze it and maybe, tonight, I'll even go down and lic—'

'Oh my _god, _get your hand out _now_ or I'll _slam_ it out!'

That worked. Which was a good thing. So I _wasn't_ disappointed at all when he retreated his hand.

Dammit.

'A-anyway,' I said, smoothening my cloths and picking the parcel back up, '…l-let's go upstairs. T-to our—_your_ bedroom. Then I'll show you what's inside. Okay?'

Antonio stared at me for a while. Then a loving, reassuring smile appeared on his face and he nodded, taking my hand. He gave it a soft squeeze.

'Okay Lovi, let's go to _our_ bedroom.'

I closed my hand around his. 'Y-yes…'

I didn't even correct him.

**xXx**

'Well, here we are, then!'

Antonio laughed and flopped down on his enormous bed, hopping up and down for a while because of the super-springy mattress. He looked really stupid, all jumpy and exited like that. Idiot. I rolled my eyes as I shut the door behind me. Ugh, he was just like a kid, wasn't he?

'I can't believe you're getting all fired up because of this stupid parcel.' I said.

He chuckled and shook his head. 'Silly Lovi, it's not only because of the _parcel_, you know.'

I blushed. 'Oh.'

'No, it's also because of my fever!~ It makes me act kind of weird!'

'Oh.' My blush faded a bit.

He smiled. 'And also because of _you_, my lovely Lovino… ahahaha…'

'O-oh.' There it was again. God, I hated my face.

Okay, enough of all that flirty-shit, dammit. I took a deep breath and walked over to Antonio… just to stay put right in front of him. I looked at the empty space next to him, fidgeting clumsily. I wanted to sit next to him, but I knew that would be a vulnerable position for me. I mean, Antonio was bigger and stronger than me and if I had the guts to sit beside him, he could easily push me down as soon as his hormones kicked in again – something that could happen any moment now. And something inside of me told me that I wasn't going to struggle when that happened, so really, I should keep standing in front of him. That made me the bigger one, too, so there was nothing wrong with just… standing.

…but I really wanted to sit next to him, d-dammit…

'Lovino?' Antonio moved over some more and patted on the – now bigger – empty spot beside him with a bright smile on his face, '…ah, don't just stand there, come sit with me.'

'I don't know if that's a good idea.' I muttered, but shuffled closer to the bed.

Antonio didn't get it at all at first and blinked when he saw me acting like an insecure virgin. Until it finally clicked in that dusty brain of his and a weak blush started to color his cheeks.

'Lovi, I know it has been a long time, but… you don't have to act _that_ shyly. I mean, sure… y-you look _so very cute_ and _you bet_ I'd like it a lot if I succeeded in getting you even redder than you are now, but it's only _sitting_, Lovino… just sitting. Nothing else. Okay? I won't jump you or anything.'

'You won't, huh?' I observed his face with a scowl.

He laughed uneasily and fumbled with his shirt. 'W-well, not _right away_… but after you've explained the meaning of that parcel to me, then I'll probably… y-yeah…'

I knew it. 'Fucking pervert.'

'Ahahaha…'

'Asshole.' I shot a disgusted glare his way and sighed, after which I did the stupidest thing possible: I sat down next to him _anyway_. And I just didn't understand why. Why did I do that? It was like a fucking _invitation_ for that horny jackass, for God's sake! The only thing that was missing was the bow on my ass! Shit, why the hell did I still want to sit next to him so badly!

And then, as if fate was screwing around with me just for the fucking hell of it, Antonio carefully placed his hand on top of mine and smiled at me.

'I like it when you sit with me.'

I didn't say anything right away. I slowly moved closer to him and nodded, ignoring my once again burning face.

O-okay then, so maybe I _did_ know why I wanted to sit next to him, in spite of all. J-just shut up already, dammit…

**xXx**

We sat for a while, quietly. It was pretty peaceful, just being together like this, just holding hands like this… I-I liked it. Antonio also liked it, as he wasn't complaining or whining about the parcel anymore.

…but he _did_ stare at the parcel on my lap a lot.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Part of me wanted to show him the dress and _just make him wear it already_, but another part warned me that I wasn't going to like that. I mean, guys in dresses _really _gave me the fucking creeps. And if Antonio wanted to wear the dress – and I _knew_ he wanted to, because he was a simpleton like that – I might run away from the sheer _horror_ of seeing him in a frilly babydoll…

But.

I had enough with me postponing stuff that were going to happen _anyway_, so I suddenly pulled my hand free, grabbed the parcel and shoved it on top of Antonio's lap.

'H-here. It's for you. J-just look inside of it already…' I mumbled and turned my head away from him to stare at the red carpet.

'Ah, so it really was for me?' he squealed happily, '…thank you very much, Lovi!~ I love getting presents – especially when _you _are the one giving them!'

He grabbed my arm and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. I kept my eyes on the carpet under my feet and muttered something unintelligible, cheeks still way too red. I heard him unpacking the parcel and knew it was too late to stop him now. Shit.

It suddenly became quiet in the room. Crap, he must have seen the dress. Oh god, he was probably thinking all different kinds of things now, like how _dirty_ my supposedly oh-so-innocent-but-not-really mind had to be, and how dangerous it had to be for _him_ to be around a filthy piece of shit like me, since I had never told him before that I _apparently_ wanted to do naughty things with him while he was wearing a disgustingly slutty dress.

Which was fucking _ironic_ because I sure as _hell_ didn't want him to be in a dress if he was going to do me – shit, I-I mean, if _I _was going to do _him_. No, I'd rather see him in a cool matador-suit or with a tight pair of dark jeans and a sexy/sweet/slug/sly/other kinky adjectives starting with a "s" -smile on his face. And with a random tomato in his mouth. Oh god, yes…

B-but that was not important. Not right now, anyway. What _was_ important, was the simple fact that Antonio could be thinking things I didn't want him to think, thanks to that stupid babydoll-dress. Fuck. Why the hell did I even _accept_ that evil blue frilly thing from the fuckface in the first place!

God. I was so stupid. I screwed it up big time, right? I fisted my hands in my pants. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

But then Antonio all of a sudden started to laugh. A confused, yet amused laugh, without sounding like he was mocking me.

'It's a dress!' he said, '…oh wow, and it's a really pretty one, too!'

Okay, the bastard still sounded stupid (= normal). That encouraged me enough to look up at him. Slowly.

I saw Antonio held the dress in his outstretched arms. He studied it from this – safe – distance and then turned to look at me with a surprised grin on his face. 'It's nice, Lovino!'

I felt more relieved and gave him a small smile. 'Y-yeah? Do you like it?'

'Yes! But… oh my, I didn't know my Lovi was such a creep for liking stuff like this!'

Oh crap. His voice sounded cheerful, yes, but I realized something just wasn't right about it. My heart skipped a beat. Oh no, oh god no, he didn't really think I was a pervert, did he? He didn't, right?

'S-Spain, don't get the wrong ideas now!' I stammered hastily.

'Ah, it's okay, Lovino…' He moved a bit farther away from me, '…maybe I can still escape from you through the window, it's only the highest floor of the House anyway!~'

'W-what? No! N-no, you don't have to do that!' I grabbed his arms with something I could only call _pure desperation _and almost started hyperventilating, '…just throw away the dress! Throw the damn thing away! No! Better idea! Let's set it on _fire_! Or let's send it to Switzerland and see what happens! I'll get the handbook to look him up! And let's bomb France, just for the fucking hell of it! B-but don't you walk away from me, you bastard!'

Antonio just stared at me with a strange look on his face and wanted to say something, but then he started to shake and _chuckle_. Yes, he fucking _chuckled_. As if the damn bastard had heard the best joke in the world.

'The _fuck_.' I said, narrowing my eyes dangerously.

'Tricked you!~' he laughed and hugged me, kissing my forehead, '…oh Lovi! Lovi Lovi Lovi! Ah, I knew you were pretty gullible, but I hadn't thought you'd be _this_ naïve, ahahahaha!'

'It was a joke?' I slowly said.

He nodded. 'Of course!~ I'd never leave you for something cute like receiving a dress as present!~'

'A _joke_, Spain?' I glared at the _**soon to be killed**_ Spaniard.

'U-um…' Antonio got a bit uncomfortable when he saw the look on my face and pulled away, '…s-sorry Lovi, but I just… I _adore_ that cute honesty of yours and… and I thought it would be funny to joke around with you… for a bit… ah, shouldn't I have done that…?'

He laughed again. It was a nervous laugh, though.

I didn't say anything. I just did what anybody else in my place would have done: I stomped my foot in his face.

**xXx**

A little while later, Antonio climbed up on the bed again, moaning and groaning non-stop while he did so. That's right! I had kicked that misleading bastard in the face, right off the bed! And it felt damn _good_, too!

Bastard… that'd teach him to scare me like that, d-dammit…

He sat down next to me again – carefully. He softly rubbed his nose and smiled weakly at me. 'I-it was only a joke, Lovi…'

'Shut the fuck up!' I hissed back, folding my arms, '…damn, and I thought you were a _lousy_ liar… tssk.'

'B-but I _am_ a lousy liar!' he said, eyes spread open wide, '…I mean, you _did_ find out I was lying, right?'

'Yeah, but only because you were pretty much on the verge of _exploding_ from laughter, you shitty asshole! Hell, you were _seconds_ away from pissing your pants!'

Antonio made a face. 'That's… _ew_.'

'No!' I suddenly pointed a shaky finger at him. 'It is _you_ who is _ew_!'

Okay.

Cue deafening silence in which I wanted to yell at myself for acting like a melodramatic, nerdy girl and in which Antonio couldn't stop his jaw from hitting the floor.

Finally, he blinked a few times and then hastily turned away from me, trembling a bit while making choked-up noises.

I flushed. 'Y-you _better_ not be laughing, you jerk!'

'Ah, but then I would be lying again, wouldn't I?~' he said in a teasing, singsong voice.

I flushed more. That bastard! 'S-shit! Do you want to kiss the floor again _that_ badly, you stupid—'

'Ah, enough, Lovi.'

Antonio's eyes all of a sudden met mine, just as fast as his hands grabbed mine. He had a soft smile on his face – fucking master of a thousand faces – and intertwined our fingers again, raising my hands to his lips to kiss them. That shut me up disturbingly quickly, as I became quiet and watched him, scowling so much it hurt.

'What are we doing, Lovi?' he asked with a sigh and pressed a light kiss on the top of my nose, '…ah, not that I don't enjoy our little fights of ~_love~_, but… we could spend our time on more… _fun_ things to do, you know?'

'F-fun things?' I repeated muttering, not stopping him when he nuzzled my face.

'Yes! Like kissing, and hugging, and kissing a bit more, and undressing ourselves, and kissing even more, and having amazing and _very_ long-awaited sex...'

'S-stop bragging about it already, d-dammit…'

'Oh?~' He raised a brow. '…stubborn, aren't you? Want me to convince you, hmm?'

Normally, I would probably just fall flat on my back and spread my legs, instantly giving him access to _everything _he wanted to have access for, but this time, there was a blue dress lying on the floor that could be the key to topping the Spanish nation. And since he was okay with the dress – _and_ since I'd _kill him_ if he "changed" his mind again – I decided to give it a try.

'O-only if…' I had to stop and take a deep breath when I felt he was trying to push me down on the mattress, before I grabbed his wrists and looked him in the eyes demandingly.

'…only if you _put on the fucking dress_, you mentally-challenged comedian.'

And that actually did the trick.

**xXx**

Antonio picked up the blue dress and pressed it against his body. He looked down to it, frowned, walked to his standing mirror and stood in front of it for a while. Then he cocked his head to the side and observed himself critically.

'Hmm…'

I could see myself in the reflection of the mirror, sitting on our— _dammit_, his bed in a weird kind of lotus position. The color of my face had turned into the darkest shade of red I had ever seen – this week – and I looked unsure. Restless. Maybe even a bit _guilty_. I just sat there, tugging on the sheets, hoping some vital and urgent amount of testosterone would come by and help me out here, because I wasn't feeling really dominant right now.

But! That would probably change the minute Antonio had put on the babydoll-dress, so I suppose it was just a matter of seconds now, before the manly man inside of me would wake up and top that weakened bastard in front of the mirror like _whoa_.

I gulped when Antonio took off his shirt and I shivered a bit spastically when I ran my eyes over that perfectly tanned body of his, so _sexy_ and broad and _sexy_ and handsome and _sexy_ and _no, _I wasn't drooling, dammit, and I certainly wasn't making creepy panting noises or squeezing my legs together really tightly because _something_ was doing _something_! Not at all!

…

…my god, had he secretly worked out during his sickness? Fucking bastard.

'Um, Lovino?' Antonio suddenly turned around – which made me jump up a bit – and looked at me with a apologizing look on his face, '…ah, I'm sorry, but I think there's something wrong with the dress…'

'W-what do you mean?' I huffed, pressing the back of my hand against my cheek to check if I really was as red as I feared I would be, '…what's wrong with it?'

He hesitated, but then pointed at the upper part of the babydoll-dress. 'It's too small for me, Lovi. I'm too… ah, how do I say this without sounding like I'm flaunting…'

'You're too fat for it.' I stated.

Antonio gave me a broad smile. 'Ah! That's perfect, Lovi!~ It doesn't sound flaunting when you say it like that _whatsoever_, so yeah, let's go with that!~'

'Oh, cut the crap!' I said, annoyed because of his stupid, smiling face, and beckoned him with weird arm-gestures to come back at me, '…give me that fucking dress, you asshole. I'm sure you'll fit into it, you just didn't try hard enough!'

Antonio obediently came back to the bed and handed over the dress, firmly shaking his head when I carefully pulled the soft fabric.

I noticed it and shot a glare at him. 'What!'

He winced a bit, but recovered quickly. 'A-ah, it's just… it's no use, Lovino, it's just too small! Here, let me try widening it… see? The material doesn't stretch out, not even a little bit.'

I saw what he meant, pulled on the dress one last time – just to be sure – and groaned loudly when I realized the bastard was right. Shit. So that fuckface France had given me a worthless dress Antonio didn't even _fit_ _into_, dammit! In the end, visiting that molesting leech had turned out to be a fucking waste of my time! That was just _great_! Thanks for nothing, you fucking French pervert!

'It really _is _a narrow dress…' Antonio muttered, poking the babydoll-dress, '…ah, I bet it's even too narrow for _you_, Lovi.'

He shouldn't have said that. He really, _really_ shouldn't have said that.

'Wait. What was that? What did you say?' I snapped, immediately looking up at the startled Spaniard, '…are you saying I'm _also_ too fat for that dress?'

'No, no!' he stammered hastily, shaking his head again, '…I-I'm just saying…'

'I know what you're saying, dammit!' I growled, rose up from the bed and approached him some more, putting my hands on my sides, '…you're saying I'm fucking _huge_!'

'N-no, Lovi! Not at all! You've got to believe me!'

I looked away from his desperate – and so fucking beautiful, dammit – eyes and made a 'hmpf!' –like sound. Of course I believed him. He was way too nice to say or even _think_ mean things about me, _everybody_ knew that.

B-but for now, I didn't have a choice other than being a fucking pain in the ass… I-I felt the neutral atmosphere was changing into a _steamy _one. _Rapidly_. T-that was risky, dammit! So I _had _to be the one in charge now, _especially_ now, and if that meant that I had to act like a spoilt little brat in order to stay in full control of the situation, then so be it!

H-however, I highly doubted I was able to keep this up for much longer, because when I looked at Antonio again, his expression told me he was pretty damn fed up with the constant delaying of the amazing sex he was longing for.

Oh _god_. He was going to jump me in less than a minute, wasn't he? Oh god oh god oh god.

'A-anyways,' I hastily said, trying to concentrate on the dress-subject again, '…I'm not too fat for that damn thing, alright? I'm sure it fits me perfectly. I just wanted to make that clear. Bastard.'

Antonio gave a tired sigh and opened his mouth, ready to tell me the things he knew I wanted to hear, but he closed it again. Then a small smirk appeared on his face, the kind of smirk that turned my legs into jelly and my heart into an unstoppable, bonking, squishy piece of organ.

'Actually, I don't believe you.' the Spanish nation said and leaned over a bit, stealing a kiss from me that _might_ had some tongue in it. Might.

'W-what?' I heard myself ask him a little breathless when he leaned back again.

He smiled and gave a short tug on my shirt. '…ah, you know what I mean, Lovi. I don't think you fit into that dress.'

Oh? Was that fucking bastard _challenging_ me or something? Asshole. I frowned and slapped his hand away. 'I sure as _hell_ fit into that dress!'

'I still don't believe you. You'll have to prove it.'

'Oh yeah?' I pushed the Spaniard away and grabbed the dress off the bed, '…okay, I'll fucking _show_ you I fit it, you jerk! Move over!'

I stomped off to the bathroom and slammed the door shut with a satisfying loud bang. Time to show that moron that no dress was too narrow for _the Southern half of fucking Italy_!

I started undressing me right away!

…after locking the door.

Shut up, I-I needed _privacy_, dammit!

**xXx**

Okay.

Since I was a part of Italy, and since Italy wasn't really seen as one of the most… brightest nations in the world, I was known, just like my younger brother, for being pretty damn thoughtless and oblivious about certain things.

Like… political stuff. And economical stuff. And international stuff.

And watching-out-for-smooth-talking-Spaniards-who-wanted-to-get-into-your-pants-slash-dress -stuff.

Yeah, I was so, so_ very, _so _painfully_ slow about that.

Because I finally – _finally –_ began to realize that Antonio _could have_ tricked me into getting into a dress (again, that bastard), when I happened to take a look in the mirror on the wall of the bathroom.

There I was, wearing the blue babydoll-dress. And I was… well. I was looking pretty cute, actually. The dress fit, just as I thought, _perfectly_. The fabric felt really nice, too. Very soft and silky. It was as if the damned dress hugged my body and made me look really, utterly…

…_gay._

And no, not "just" gay, but _destructively _gay. With _sparkles_ on it. The kind of gayness you wanted to run away from _really_ fast. I shivered and looked away from my feminine reflection. God, I couldn't even remember the last time I looked so freaking… _topable_.

I slowly grabbed the knob of the door and then stopped in my movements when I realized _another_ thing.

I wasn't going to top Antonio today.

One last look into the mirror was enough to convince me of that. Come on, I was wearing a _dress_! Oooh, weep and fall on your knees – Lovino in a slutty nightgown! How _powerful_!

Ugh. So that meant Antonio was going to top me again.

…

…o-oh well…

I took a few deep breaths and went into the bedroom again.

**xXx**

I was greeted with the sight of a _very_ red-faced Spaniard, who shot up from the bed as soon as I walked in again. He flushed even more when he saw me in the blue babydoll-thing and I heard he had to swallow a couple of times before he was able to say something.

'Ah, you were… you were right, Lovino… that dress really looks like it was made for you…'

I blushed, but for once it wasn't as impressive as the intensity of Antonio's blush. Which was really weird, but also kind of cool.

'Y-yeah, shut up already… I-I can't believe you got me into a dress again…' I huffed.

He laughed softly and cleared his throat. 'You look beautiful, my lovely Lovi. Absolutely beautiful. Ah, can I please hold you?~'

'Y-yes.' I stubbornly folded my arms and knew I was going to kick myself in the morning for _smiling_ at him like I was doing right now, but I _really_ didn't care.

Antonio was very surprised and thrilled to see me smile and smiled an exited smile back. 'Y-you're so cute!'

I studied his enthusiastic face, bit my lower lip and couldn't help but laugh – just a bit. '…w-well, so are you, you… you… ugh, j-just come and hug me already, dammit…'

'Okay, Lovi.' He chuckled and walked towards me with arms wide open, but he had to stop halfway because he was stumbling a bit. No, not a bit – a _lot_: he even fell on the carpet. He seemed to be dizzy. And in pain.

I-in pain? Oh, _fuck_ no…

'Spain?' I asked worriedly, rushing over to him, '…h-hey, are you okay?'

'Ah, of course I am, Lovino!' he said happily, refusing to grab my hands as he shakily got up from the floor, '…t-the room suddenly started to spin around, that's all!~'

I looked at his face a bit better and paled when I saw that it wasn't a _blush_ that made Antonio's face so incredibly red, but his fucking _fever_. Was it going up again?

'Shit.' I cursed and pressed my hand against his forehead again. I immediately pulled it back. Fuck, he was burning up! When did this happen? He seemed fine just a moment ago! Why the hell was he panting and wheezing for all the wrong reasons again, dammit!

Antonio smiled weakly and put his hands on the sides of my face, suddenly giving me a kiss that felt so freakishly _good _and _passionate_ that I instantly forgot about his fever for a bit and gave in to him, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. I even tried to stand on my tiptoes, just to give him better access to my mouth and encourage him to deepen the kiss, which he did.

I-it felt fucking amazing, kissing like this, being in his arms like this, but… but he was sick, dammit, he was burning from the fever, he was – _v-very much_ groping my ass again.

'Aren't you the cutest…' he whispered when he finally pulled back, and slowly stroke his thumb over my moist lower lip before pressing our lips together once again. I knew I should be protesting and telling him to stop it before he passed out again like he did the last time we tried to have sex, b-but thinking was such a difficult thing to do when a Spanish tongue was lazily dancing around with my own.

So before I could something to prevent it from happening, we already were lying down on his- n-no, _our_ mattress, Antonio's hands impatiently pushing down the straps of the babydoll-dress while he just kept on kissing me like his life _depended_ on it.

I moaned and half-heartedly tried to struggle. 'S-Spain…'

He ignored me and I almost shrieked when he pulled up the lower part of the dress.

'Spain! F-for God's sake!'

He now started to tug on my pair of boxers and _that's it, that was the fucking last straw!_

'Goddammit, Antonio, _cut it out_!' I snarled and grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look up at me.

'O-ouch… W-what's the matter… Lovi…' The stupid idiot breathed heavily and gave me a weary glance, clearly disappointed I made him stop, despite his gasping for breath.

I felt my chest rising and falling quickly and was glad I managed to get him to listen to me. That was good. I sighed and stared at him, carefully stroking his hot cheek while thinking of what to say.

'…a-are you okay, Antonio?' I finally heard myself mutter again, quietly, still breathing kind of rushed.

Antonio just looked at me, his green eyes softening as he nodded slowly. '…yeah.'

I frowned. 'Really?'

He chuckled and nodded some more. 'Really, Lovi. I can do this. Trust me. But… ah, I'm so happy you're worried about me…'

I scowled some more. 'A-am _not_, you fucki—'

'Please shut up, Lovi.' He pressed our foreheads together and cut me off with a forceful kiss, '…just shut up and make love with me.'

'T-that'd be nice…' I mumbled hoarsely, entwining my wavering legs around his hips as I let him undress me completely.

Hopefully he ripped the fucking useless dress up in the process, dammit...


	6. Tush

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: First of all, forgive me for not-continuing the sexiness from last chapter/not-changing the rating to M. __I'm just not ready for it yet... _OTL

_A/n2: Second... ah, I have to warn you for this chapter. No, this isn't another weird 'keep out I'm dancing with T and M' –exclamation… it's a __**fluff-overload**__ warning. I think I've pretty much smeared loads and loads of fluff (or attempts to fluff) onto this chapter, so beware of the sugary corniness/cheesiness/banananess… oh, and tell me if you liked it or not! _^^

_A/n3: Oh my, this chapter is shorter than last one! Maybe it's because there's not too much happening in here. Except for fluffiness, I guess. Well, I __**hope**__ it's fluffiness, alright…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter VI:  
_**  
Tush  
**__**(ZZ Top)**_

Antonio always wanted to cuddle after sex.

He was _very_ serious and even more vocal about that, repeatedly saying that "true love has to _stay_ true love and the key to too keep true love _true_, is to have sex on a regular basis and to kiss and cuddle a lot _right after _the ~_lovemaking~_, Lovi!~"

Yes: that meant that he _always_ wanted to hug me – _tightly_ – after another sweaty night of freaking ~_lovemaking~_, no matter how fucking hot and/or sultry it was outside, no matter how many times I slapped and kicked him, no matter how much I complained and whined about it and no matter how many times I tried to convince him that hugging caused a very severe rash.

'That's alright, you're worth every kind of rash, my lovely Lovi!~' he had said at that, before happily _squishing me_ against his nice – _perverted_ chest and showering my face with kisses.

A-and he just always did that! Ugh! How irritating! You can't possibly imagine how fucking _annoying_ that clingy Spaniard could be, dammit!

…

…o-of course I didn't dislike it _that_ much, and sure, it felt really nice to be… c-close to the one I l-loved, so I guess it was a good thing Antonio was such an affectionate lover. That way, I didn't have to brutally murder my pride time after time to ask him for a hug. No, all I had to do was waiting until he pulled me close and buried his face in my hair. _That_ was the sign I could safely put my arms around him too and relax, without getting too embarrassed – I just kept on telling myself that **he** started it and that I only gave in because I was too tired to push him away – so yeah…

In short, Antonio was the one who actively hugged and cuddled me and I was the grumpy, but… w-willing receiving end.

Well, what's new.

And so, with all of this information in mind, I knew something wasn't right when I woke up early in the morning and discovered that there weren't any familiar tanned arms around my waist and that there wasn't a warm, comfortable body curled up against me.

That was… well, it was _disturbing_.

I opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder, only to see that the bed was completely empty aside from me.

…what?

I rubbed my eyes and made myself sit up slowly, immediately wincing and biting my lips in pain when a very understandable and _ungodly_ throbbing shot _right _through the lower part of my body. Oh my _god_, I fucking sure as _hell_ wasn't used to _doing it_ anymore, dammit…

…b-but it sure had been good last night. Oh yes. In spite of Antonio's fever, we still managed to have… p-pretty amazing and fantastic sex – hell, we even _finished_ it! I blushed a bit when I suddenly saw the babydoll-dress of France, lying on the floor. _Merciless ripped apart_.

Antonio could get pretty impatient when something took too long, yes. Especially when it had something to do with sex. I mean, s-sure, he was a passionate lover who always made love to me way _too fucking goo-_ no, slow, just to hear me begging for more – sick bastard – but he absolutely _hated it_ if something got in the way of that. He'd gladly _destroy_ it. Prove of that was right here, on the carpet.

Whatever. Never liked the stupid thing anyway. I simply snorted and stretched myself out – carefully. Then I looked around the bedroom. No Antonio. Nope, not a feverish Spaniard in sight. I yawned softly and scratched the back of my head.

Huh. Strange.

In normal situations, when I would be fully awake, I'd probably _freak out completely_ if I discovered that Antonio wasn't peacefully snoring next to me. I just knew I would break down – I was neurotic like that. Had got something to do with my fear of abandonment and shit like that, I think…

Thankfully enough, I wasn't really awake yet – hell no, I was still fuzzy from the sleep I _barely_ got last night. Besides, I was in pain. _And_ I was moody – well, I _always_ was moody, but still. _And_… I just didn't _feel_ like panicking yet. So I simply lay down on the bed again and covered myself a bit better with the crisp-white sheets.

Okay. Now I had to wait for my brain and body to process the current situation and make me feel like a stressed puddle of _shit_.

Ooh, goodie. I couldn't wait for _that_ to happen.

**xXx**

Just when I decided it would be okay for me to get some quick shut-eye before my mental breakdown would strike up, I heard a low moan, coming from near the bed.

'…o-oh, I never knew my mattress was so... red… and dusty… and it could use some vacuum-cleaning…'

Was that… Antonio? Yes, it was! I blinked a few times and shot upright. I had to pause to gasp for air as the burning feeling in my lower back _also_ shot upright – oh my _god_, pain pain pain pain fuck shit Jesus Christ on a motorbike Russia on a pogo-stick Finland on a sandwich, it _hurt_!

…but _of course_, I took the pain like a real man would – and those wet traces on my cheeks weren't tears of pain, no, those were tears of fucking _manliness_, dammit – and sucked in some air, before I slowly crawled over to Antonio's half of the bed.

Not that we each had a half. No, we didn't. It was _Antonio's_ bed, not mine. Just because I slept in it every day, preferred to sleep on the left side of the bed, had done most of the decorating around the room (Spanish idiot had no sense of style whatsoever) and made up the bed very neatly every Friday, _didn't_ mean that Antonio's bed was also mine.

…

God. I sounded even less convincing than I thought I would.

'Spain?' I said, gritting my teeth as I slowly pushed myself to the other side of the bed. I clutched the side of the bed and looked down, a frown with an exotic mixture of emotions (worry/stress/sleepiness/pain/eternal bad-temperedness/confusion) on my face as I finally found the Spaniard, lying face-down on the carpet.

Naked.

Well, of course he was naked. I was naked, too. But still, there he was.

Naked.

Very much. His ass was practically _glowing_ in the morning sun.

…

I didn't stare at it. Oh no. And I wasn't thinking about touching or biting it, either.

…

Okay, maybe a bit.

Shit, no! I shook my head. Focus, Lovino! Antonio could be in pain or whatever! Probably not as much as **I** was at the moment – I _seriously_ thought my butt was going to fall off – but _he_ was the one with the devilish fever, not me!

I had to slap myself in the face a couple of times (and hard, too) to tear my eyes away from the spectacular sight before me and quickly covered my eyes, reaching out a hand. I waved it around for a bit, before I accidentally smacked the older nation in the face.

N-no, not _that_ face, I meant that _other_ one, the one with actual _eyes_ and a _nose_ in it! Fucking hell, why did everything I said sound like something perverted!

'Ouch!' Antonio groaned feebly almost immediately after I had hit him, '…Lovi, don't hurt me! I'm vulnerable!~'

I gulped, still not looking at him. 'I-it's your fault, dammit! With your… your…'

'…hmm? With my what?'

'W-with your _face_, goddammit! I don't know, I… ugh, j-just stand up already, jackass!'

'Ah… I don't get it, but okay…'

'G-good.' I dared to look his way again and gave a relieved sigh when I saw he was slowly getting up on his knees – at least he covered his lower back a bit now. Which wasn't a shame at all.  
No, I actually _really meant_ what I said this time: Antonio's upper back was also very nice to gape – I mean look at. Not that I was doing that often. Hell no. Only every single time I got the opportunity, that's all.

Antonio rubbed his reddening cheek and turned his head to give me a tired, but at the same time very sweet (h-how the hell did he _always_ manage to do that, dammit) look.

'W-what!' I said defensively, pulling the sheets up higher as if that bastard never saw me naked before.

He smiled and shook his head, moving to the bed on all fours until he could let his arms rest on it. I eyed him suspiciously the whole time, feeling my face turning redder by the fucking second. But I didn't stop him from approaching me and I didn't stop him from closing his hands around mine. His hands were very warm. It… it felt kind of nice.

He leaned up some more, gently pecking me on the lips. 'Good morning, my lovely little Lovi.'

'Y-yeah…' I frowned, hesitated, frowned some more, and then I finally bent down towards him to kiss him on the top of his head. His stupid, dark-brown curls – which for some weird reason all smelt like freshly harvested grapes – tickled in my face, but that… was not… so bad…

I heard Antonio chuckle softly as I moved lower and shyly nuzzled his face.

'…g-good morning, you basta- I-I mean… A-Antonio.'

**xXx**

A couple of minutes later, Antonio was lying in our (fuck it, wasn't go to deny it anymore) bed again, safely tucked away underneath the sheets and blankets and pillows and other fluffy stuff that I was always breaking my neck over, dammit.

But don't think I was going to throw any of my cool bed-accessories away because of that. Fuck no. Sure, it could be really annoying to have a pillow slowly suffocating me whenever Antonio and I were going at it or doing other – no doubt also _sinful_ – things, but still, having a lot of cushions and linen cloths was _stylish _these days. And a very _Italian_-thing to do. And since style and Italian were a perfect combination, I approved of it.

So shut up!

'Lovino, I…' Antonio started, but stopped talking when I touched his forehead. I know I did that a lot, but… w-well, I knew he would do the same if I was in his position: checking my temperature, fluffing the pillows, feeding me chicken soup, being really sweet to me… so it was only _natural_ I tried to take care of him as well. Yes, that was the reason.

Besides the fact that I… l-loved him.

A-anyways, back to the fever-checking…

Hm. He felt warm, but not as burning hot as he had felt last night. Thank god. I was relieved and sighed, flopping down next to him.

'At least you're not as hot as yesterday.' I said, turning on my side so I could look at him.

'W-what?' Antonio stared at me in utter horrification, '…but that's _terrible_! So you don't think I'm still as hot as yesterday? Oh no!'

I rolled my eyes and flicked his forehead. 'God, you're such a predictable _moron_. I was talking about your _fever, _dammit. Not your… other hotness.'

And right after that sentence, I wanted to kick the crap out of me again.

What the hell? What was that? _"Other hotness"_? Did I really say that – out _loud_? Was I a total fucking retard or something?

'Ah…' Antonio, who thankfully enough didn't seem to have heard the last part of what I said, rubbed the painful spot on his head and grinned weakly, '…okay, I get it, ahahahaha…'

'Don't you try to "ahahahaha" your way out of this, you ass – I bet you still don't get it!' I snorted.

His face fell. '…then explain it to me a bit better, Lovi… I'm confused…'

I grumbled and folded my arms again. 'I fucking knew it.'

**xXx**

After I had impatiently explained Antonio what I had meant with the "not-hot" -comment (ten _freaking_ times, dammit), we got silent and just kind of stared at each other for a while.

It wasn't a uncommon thing for us to do. I guess we saw it as a calming and… s-somewhat _romantic_ way to relax. Yeah. Just looking at the other, just observing how handsome and tanned and muscular the other looked like and all. This way, I had found out all different kinds of new stuff of the stupid Spaniard that I didn't know about at first.

For example, during the afterglow of our first night together, I had discovered Antonio's eyes weren't just_ green_. Oh no. His eyes had many, _many_ different shades and variations of the color green and seemed to change between them on a regular basis. Light-greenish: happy/satisfied. Darker and more intense-greenish: horny- I mean, _excited_. And very _erotic_. G-god, how I had loved that afterglow...

But right now, his eyes were dull. A mat kind of green. A grayish kind of green, maybe. Still very beautiful, mind you, I liked _every single fucking color of green_ thanks to the stupid eyes of that manipulative asshole, but… well, _this_ particular shade… it wasn't something I was used to. Or liked to see, for that matter.

'Antonio?' I suddenly asked quietly.

His eyes became a bit bigger and brighter and he smiled broadly at me. I knew why: he still absolutely _loved_ it whenever called him by his human name. It could drove him wild and he saw it as a very valid reason to _jump_ me – that's why I hardly ever used it, unless we were in a private and/or intimate situation, like… l-like we were now.

'Yes, Lovino?' he said, wiggling a bit closer to me – which was clearly pretty difficult for him to do, since he was buried alive with everything that was soft and warm and good.

'Um… well…' I turned my face away from him and fiddled with my sheets, '…last night was… g-good, right?'

He smiled. 'Ah yes, it was _very_ good, Lovi.'

I blushed, but looked up again. 'Yeah, I… I thought so, too.'

'I missed it, y'know? Our passionate nights together… ah, I really missed it.'

'Yeah. I know you did – you made that little fun-fact pretty fucking _clear_ yesterday night, you sadistic bastard.'

I glared at him. I still felt some _evil_ and _nagging_ pains down there that were probably going to pester me for a bit longer today, dammit… and that cheery bastard was the one to blame! He _always_ was the one to blame in this case!

'O-oh. Sorry, Lovi…' Antonio's face flushed in shame (as far as he was even _aware_ of the meaning of that word), but he grinned teasingly, giving me a flirtatious wink, '…ah, but you still liked it, yes?'

'…s-shut the hell up, dammit.' I pouted.

Yeah, I had liked it. I had liked it a lot, to be honest. But I wasn't going to tell _him_, because my ass pretty much hated him right now and I was just _that_ unreasonable and difficult. Comes with the angry temperament and shit.

'Lovi?' Antonio suddenly reached out a hand and carefully ran it through my hair, '…I know you can handle much, much more than I sometimes think you can, but still… please tell me when you're in too much pain. Then I'll… um…'

'Yes?' I couldn't help it, I had to snicker. Stupid idiot. I wondered how he was going to blab his sorry ass out of this, ha!

He scratched his chin '…um… then I'll… I'll put some soothing lotion down your—'

Oh, _that's_ how.

'_Don't_ you fucking finish that sentence, y-you pervert!' I quickly interrupted him, '…you and your creepy lotion are staying _away_ from my ass!'

'But it'll make your cute little butt feel better, Lovino!' the Spaniard said with an unnecessary fiery passion in his voice.

'I-I don't give a damn! I don't want it! And _please_, for _God's_ sake, stop calling my ass "cute"! It's embarrassing, you fag!' I commanded shrilly, with a face so _red_, so _hot _you could easily bake bacon and eggs on it. Hell, forget bacon and eggs – just throw a fucking _steak _on my face and get the meat-fest _started_!

'Ah… you're so harsh, Lovi…' Antonio sighed. He looked slightly disappointed, but didn't persist. I guess he was too tired to urge the sexy, lotion-loaded massage he probably had in mind on me. W-which was a good thing!

It was. Yes, it was. I suppose.

Anyway…

Instead of attacking my _very_ fragile backside, Antonio yawned softly and grabbed my arms, pulling me into his arms. I was surprised and blushed – _of course_ I blushed – but I let him _– of course_ I let him. As soon as his arms were conveniently wrapped around me, I… I kind of… rubbed my face against his bare chest. Slowly, gently. God, he felt so nice, so nice… I closed my eyes and sighed. Falling asleep like this, close to him, while listening to his calm, beating heart was very tempting… but I needed to ask him something before I was going to do that.

I looked up at him, my chin resting on the tanned skin of his chest as I slowly put my arms around him, too.

'H-hey, Antonio?'

'Yes, Lovi?' His cheeks turned pink and he smiled happily at me. He gave me a kiss on my forehead. '…ah, you called me Antonio again… I feel so lucky… I just love the way you call me Antonio!~'

'I-I know.' I frowned a bit and swallowed, but kept on looking at him. '…h-hey, you told me to tell you the minute I feel too much pain, right?'

'Right…' he nodded, his eyes fluttering close.

'Well… I expect you to do the same when _you're_ having too much pain, y-you know? Warn me or something… okay?' I stuttered.

A warm feeling spread through my body as Antonio gave me a smile without opening his eyes and snuggled closer to me. 'Sure, Lovino…'

'Y-you promise?' I insisted.

He didn't answer me right away – I had to poke him first.

'Hmmm?...' he muttered with an annoyed wrinkle up his forehead.

I took a deep breath. 'Promise me you'll tell me, alright? Just promise me.'

'Ah, okay then… I promise you…' he mumbled and hugged me a bit tighter, '…just as long as you let me hold you. Because I didn't hold you long enough this night…'

'T-that's fine w-with me...' I agreed and squeezed him a bit, allowing myself to feel more of that friendly, l-loving body of his as I pursed my quivering lips together tightly, '…s-stupid bastard…'

Antonio laughed drowsily and then he slowly got more and more quiet.  
The moment his arms weakened their grip around me and his breathing became slow and steady, I knew he had drifted off.

It didn't take too long before I fell asleep as well.

**xXx**

When I woke up again because of the bright, sunny _fucking disturbing shit _weather outside, I assumed it already was _way_ past lunchtime. Not that I cared, but still.

_Ugh_. I groaned weakly and covered my eyes from the _evil sun of doom, _which was probably sent by Antonio's fucking French neighbor –damn that bearded asshole…

However, it was obviously the Spaniard's fault that the stupid sun woke me up – that bastard had never realized that white, almost see-through curtains were, as my 'big sister' Belgium would say, a big _no-no _to block the sun with. I mean, come on, those shitty, frilly things couldn't even block the light of a friggin' _light bulb_, let alone something as huge as the sun! Damn you, you… celestial body!

…but alright, since I already was awake, maybe I could reminisce about what exactly went wrong last night, during our… _activities_. Right? Right.

I frowned and nodded, agreeing with myself just because it was so nice to agree with myself, and folded my arms behind my head. That turned out to be one hell of a thing to do, because of that snoring – _and naked, so naked _– bastard next to me who still held me into his arms like I was something _precious_ and _worthy_ of his attention and f-_fuck_, now that asshole had managed to make me cry without even being _awake_, dammit!

…but I only cried _manly_ tears, of course.

S-Spanish jerk. I sighed and looked his way, studying his peaceful, somewhat sweaty face. I felt my heart jump up a bit when I saw the painful expression on his face and bit on the nail of my thumb. Fuck, I wondered if I should get mad at him for not-telling me he was in pain or if I should wake him up from the feverish dream he was having.

Well… getting mad at him would be just mean. And waking him up didn't seem to be such a good idea either, because he needed his rest and I had read somewhere that after waking up, falling sleeping while having a fever could be very difficult…

…o-okay, just five more minutes. If he was still looking like this by then, I'd wake him up.

For now, I slowly reached out a hand to him and touched his wet face, tracing a finger from his one cheek to the other one, deliberately moving over his soft, but dry lips while doing so. H-he had great lips. I liked his lips. I liked the way they always bent upwards whenever he looked at me and I liked the touch and taste of them whenever he pushed them on mine, most of the time whispering sweet words to me while doing so.

D-damn. The sight of his inviting mouth indirectly remembered me of what happened yesterday and I felt my face getting hot again.

Okay, so _maybe_ last night didn't go as _perfectly _as planned. I mean… sure, we had sex, it was very good and fantastic and kids lightening fireworks just outside the window and corny shit like that… BUT!

I hadn't topped him!

Not at all! Not even a little bit! Hell, I had been the most girlish fag the world had ever _seen_! I had been even more girly than Liechtenstein and Poland – _combined_! I had practically _freaking offered myself to him, _goddammit! That dress of France had just been the icing of the sex-cake! That dress of France was…

Wait.

Oh god, everything became so clear now. The dress of France… was _the fucking dress of_ _**France**_.

The fuckfaced guy with the scary dress-fetish. The guy who thought _I_ _also_ had a scary dress-fetish. The guy who _then_ discovered _Antonio_ was the one with the scary dress-fetish, not _me_. The guy who didn't like me at all, but _did _care a lot about his dear friend _Antoine_ and probably also wanted to make him feel better.

So really, if I think about it, the _only_ thing that French pervert had to do to do his Spanish friend a favor (and me, the hated boyfriend of that same friend, _not_), was giving me a dress that was too small for Antonio, but _very _fitting for me… and _bam!_, the Spaniard would surely _get some Italian booty _that night_._

It was the perfect crime!

As far as it actually was considered a crime.

...I know**_ I_** considered it a crime.

Oh well…

My eyes fell on the shredded dress on the carpet and I cursed under my breath, roughly turning around to avoid looking at the damned babydoll. Shit. It very much seemed like the evil Frenchman had never really intended to help me. That scheming fuckface, shit, I should have known he had something up his sleeve. Ugh, at times like these, I wished I had a few more brain cells, dammit.

I groaned, sat up and squeezed my eyes tight again when I felt my butt protesting.

Alright. Let this be a lesson for me: from now on, I should _always _know beforehand what kind of nation I would be visiting! Always be aware of his/her opinion on me! Always try to do or say nice to him/her! Always _avoid _wearing clothes that don't match! That should be fucking common _sense_, dammit! All of it! Especially the last one! Red and pink are _not_ a good match, dammit!

Suddenly, my burning thoughts were interrupted when a large, shivering hand landed on my head and patted it lightly.

'…L-Lovi?'

Apparently, he had woken up.

I snapped back into reality and forgot my stupid ass for a moment, immediately grabbing the hand on my head as I moved closer to the Spanish nation next to me. 'Y-you're awake?'

He gave a hoarse sigh. 'That's the rumor…'

'I… guess it is.' I chewed restlessly on my lower lip.

To tell the truth, I was a bit shocked when I looked at Antonio up close. I had never seen his face this red before. His breathing sounded ragged and heavily – it was more like panting than breathing, actually. His eyes were shut, his eyebrows knitted together. His free hand slowly wiped his forehead before flopping down on the mattress again. I felt his other hand gave mine a soft squeeze.

'Lovi, I… don't feel so good right now…'

'Can I do anything for you?' I heard myself blurt out right away, pushing my usual shitty behavior to the side for now, and stared in a hesitating concern at the many blankets on top of him.

Huh. At least they _knew_ how to top him.

What the… no! I pinched myself in the cheek. Concentrate! Now's not the time to get jealous over a couple of stupid pieces of bedding cloth, dammit!

'Ah, don't pinch yourself, Lovi…' Antonio smiled a bit and finally opened his eyes for a bit, exhaling slowly as he looked at me.

'Soup,' I suddenly said, my eyes widening like I just found a cure for his stupid disease, '…I could make you some soup. Okay? Does that sound okay, Anto- Spain?'

He sighed and shut his eyes once more. 'Calling me "Spain" again, aren't you…'

'You _are_ Spain.' I reasoned lamely, rubbing my arm instead of bonking my head against the wall like I actually wanted to do for making such an _useless_ remark. He was old and wise enough to know that he was Spain, dammit…

He opened his eyes a little bit, but didn't search for my guilty gaze. 'You're right – I _am_ Spain. But… ah, I really don't want to be Spain at the moment…'

Oh.

**XxX**

A somewhat uncomfortable silence filled the room. All that was audible were mine and Antonio's different styles of breathing.

Until I got fed up with the strange atmosphere and carefully stepped out of bed, gathering a lot of my courage – and clothes – when I waited for Antonio to look at me, what he eventually did.

'Something wrong, Lovino…?'

I put on my pants and shrugged, sharply inhaling through my nose. 'I'm going to make you some soup, Antonio. You better be thankful for that, d-dammit.'

It was like Antonio heard he won the first prize in a lottery. He blinked at me before giving me a weak, but absolutely relieved and blissful smile, pushing himself up a bit without ever losing sight of me. Then he leaned more my way, staggering a bit.

I scowled, pulling my shirt over my head. 'What the hell are you doing now, you ass? Do you want to fall off the bed?'

He sluggishly shook his head. 'No… I want… a kiss, from my… lovely Lovi…'

I flushed. 'Y-you what?'

'Please?~'

'O-oh, alright then…' I mumbled, walking over to him, '…b-but only if you lay yourself down again right after that.'

'Okay.' He grinned and gently grabbed my chin when I pressed my lips against his own. It felt nice, of course, but I forced myself to pull away before he could deepen the kiss.

'Soup,' I muttered, 'I'll… I'll be right back with the soup.'

Antonio pouted. 'But Lovi—'

'SOUP, DAMMIT!'

I turned away from him and pretty much _stormed_ out of the room, ignoring his whining pleas for another kiss.

What! Making soup was serious business, dammit!


	7. Booty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: A-already over a 100 reviews… before I even reached chapter 7 or up… o-oh wow. I really don't have words for this. I feel very flattered by all of you, seriously. I'm so happy you all take the time to read my superlong chapters and send me those wonderful reviews… Ah, I just can't thank you people enough for motivating me so!~ I hope I won't let you guys down! _^^

_A/n2: I'm sorry – there's not much happening in this chapter, either. Ugh, I feel like I've failed… OTL. I originally wanted to let Lovino at least reach Berlin (yes, Prussia is the next in line!~) in this chapter, but it turned out to be a chapter that's mostly all about the sexual tensio- I mean, fluffiness between Lovino and Antonio… I hope you won't mind it too much, I just enjoy writing corny, teeth-rotting stuff… Can you tell? _*kicked*

_But! In the next chapter, Lovino __**will**__ be confronted with Prussia('s advice). And I can tell you he'll like Gilbo's suggestion better than France's. Mhuhahaha…_

_A/n3: I wonder how long I'll be able to keep it up with the (literal) ass-names of the chapters… I still have a lot up my sleeve, but I wonder if it'll be enough. Hmm… Oh, we'll see!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter VII:

_**Bootylicious  
**__**(Destiny's Child)**_

Well, after that one night, we went back to having _no sex at all_ for the rest of the week.

Antonio's fever had gone up too high to allow him to do anything other than sleeping day and night, eating (tons and tons of my, if I may say so, fucking _delicious_) soup, drinking lots of water and sweating his fucking brains out. That really was all he could do.

I-it made me a bit worried, to be perfectly honest. He had changed into this… this fragile, pitiful, sick country, constantly sighing and coughing and asking me weird, stupid and… c-cute little questions and favors, like:

'_Lovi, could you hold me?'_

'_Lovi, do you know what the capital is of Mercury? I'm curious!~'_

'_Lovi, I can't eat this without your help…'_

'_Lovi, can I kiss you?' _

'_Lovi, tell me how your day was, my love.'_

'_Lovi… Lovi, what's the matter? H-hey, don't cry! I'm fine, really! Come here, come here…'_

Y-yeah.

It turned out Antonio was taking much longer to recover from the economic recession in his country than everybody, including me and himself, had though. The tourists were late this year, _especially_ the people from the relatively rich West-European countries. It seemed like these sulking bastards were still just too pissed off (because of a _certain_ football-tournament) to come to Spain for a holiday and to give the country of passion the financial support his horrible economy needed so much. Maybe it was some kind of revenge, dammit. Stupid Dutch and German people…

Speaking of Dutchmen and Germans, I was planning to visit _both_ Prussia and the Netherlands this week. Yes, the both of them – Prussia on Friday, the Netherlands on Saturday.

I had no other choice, dammit, since the Netherlands couldn't make an appointment for another day: his country was having too much trouble with forming the new cabinet or something, and he spent most of his days trying to help his ministers out. According to Belgium, whom I contacted with every now and then, he also was a bit sick. And so was Belgium herself (conflicts between Flanders and Wallonia). And apparently, France wasn't feeling _fabulous_ either (something with Frenchmen threatening to strike).

Thanks to these small, but very enlightening conversations with Belgium, she _painfully_ but also very _realistically _reminded me of the simple and obvious fact that Antonio wasn't the _only_ nation with problems – we _all_ had them. Hell, Feliciano and I had them as well, so it was nothing new to me or anything…

But… it's just that… I-I didn't _care_ as much about _me_ or all those other nations than that I cared about Antonio…

S-shut up, dammit. I had my reasons.

**xXx**

I frowned and fixed the tie of my suit again. I just couldn't get it _straight_, dammit. I looked in the standing mirror and sighed by noticing the sour look on my face. My scowling expression gave away that I really didn't like to wear something _this_ spiffy when I was only going to visit that annoying asshole Prussia.

_Prussia_. I made a wry face and clicked with my tongue. _Ugh_. Even though I hadn't seen him in a long time, I still was very much aware of what an irritating jackass that failed German could be. Always being way too loud, always splashing beer around the place, always trying to convince others about how awesome he was – which he wasn't – and always making a fool out of himself and his younger brother.

Actually, I was okay with that last bit.

In fact, I _liked_ to see Germany _cowering _in _an everlasting and never-stopping circle of shame_. There could never be enough Germany-bashing in this world! That ought to teach that bastard to go after my brother's sassy ass!

Fucking evil potato-munching macho! I should smother him with tomatoes, dammit!

As I was having these crazy, but not uncommon thoughts while getting dressed, I suddenly felt (that's right, _felt_) that Antonio's curious and currently light-green eyes were intensively _staring_ at me. That was enough to make me completely forget what I was thinking about. It also was enough to make my heart flutter in exciteme- _agony_. Yes, downright _agony_. Not excitement. Agony.

I tried not to pay attention to him, but… but come on, w-what the hell? The bastard was shamelessly _checking me out_, dammit, not even caring about the rather obvious way he was doing it, too! Fuck, it… it almost seemed like he _wanted_ me to catch him staring at me. That w-weird… kinky… jerk. Dammit. I blushed furiously, but looked back at him anyway.

Antonio appeared to have a "good" day today – he wasn't as feverish as he normally was. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, leaning on his elbows, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His gaze was somewhat dazed and dull – something I blamed his sickness for – but still ridiculously loving and caring. It took a while before he realized I was _mercilessly_ looking back at him, and when he _finally_ noticed, he only chuckled, his cheeks flushing a bit.

'Ahahaha… I'm sorry if I'm distracting you, Lovino, but… ah, look at you, you look so handsome!~'

Cheeky bastard. I scowled and snorted, fumbling on my tie. Time to snap at him and show that jackass who's boss! Fuck yeah!

'Y-yeah…? Do you… do you like what you see, hm?' I heard myself mutter softly.

…

And then I considered throwing myself out of the window.

Oh my GOD. WHAT. THE HELL. WAS THAT.

Fuck, did I just try to… _flirt _with him? Did I really, _really_ attempt to… _seduce_ him? And did I really, really, _really _try to _entice_ him while _blushing like a motherfucking teenager_?

…

…and why, in the name of all that was innocent and honest and pure, was I still fucking _gawking_ at him like this? I must have looked like an idiot! No, scratch that, why the hell was I looking at him in the _first_ place? Turn around, Lovino, you red-faced douchebag! Turn around, now! Back to the mirror!

Thankfully enough, I succeeded in that – but not before catching a last glimpse of Antonio's face, now crimson because of something _other_ than his illness.

Wait…

…oh? Did I do that?

Oh, wow. I blinked and turned to my reflection in the mirror. I almost started to laugh when I noticed my own flabbergasted expression, but hey, whatever, never mind the weirdness of it all, for it looked like I managed to _flirt_ with Antonio! That's right, I had actually_ flirted_ with my boyfriend! How about that! I hadn't ever flirted with him before, since I didn't really know how flirt with men – I had expected it to be totally different than flirting with girls – but _look at that_! The poor bastard was at a loss of words and _believe me_, that was something!

'W-what did you say, Lovi?' Antonio finally said, and when I peeked his way via the mirror, I saw he was standing beside the bed, watching me in awe. In fucking _awe_!

Ha! Hello there, dominance over the situation! I had it! I felt I had it! I smiled a triumphant smirk and simply shrugged, dusting off my nice suit as I reacted to the Spaniard. 'Pssh. You _heard_ what I said, idiot.'

'I did.'

I jumped a bit when all of a sudden his hands landed on my shoulders and a unsuspected kiss was pressed to the side of my face.

**xXx**

I felt my control slipping away instantly and suppressed a surprised gasp. 'W-what—'

'…oh, _you bet_ I like what I see, Lovino… Ah, you're such a _tease_, aren't you…' he whispered. Then he tugged on my collar and placed an open-mouthed, heated kiss on my neck. His hands started to massage my shoulders – _oh, so slowly_ – and _god_, it felt _sooo good, so damn good, way too good…_

Shit. I cursed under my breath and gritted my teeth, shaking my head. I wanted to say something witty, but I couldn't, I just couldn't, not when Antonio was constantly breathing hot kisses and licks up and down my neck with an enthusiasm that would put a hyperactive Feliciano on friggin' _sugar_ to shame and… and…

…_fuckshitdammit_, how the _hell_… why in the _world_… how did he…

How did he _do_ that! Just… just _how_! I didn't understand, I really didn't! In the beginning I fucking _owned_ the whole atmosphere and situation in here: Antonio was blushing like mad and I was acting like the arrogant asshole I was, everything was just fine and under control, and then, suddenly – BAM! Antonio sucking on my neck, I helplessly dangling in his arms, my face as red as a beetroot, trying not to get totally dominated by the passionate nation that was my b-boyfriend, and I was, most important of all, NOT IN CONTROL. AT ALL.

I-it was so weird! So weird! So very, very weird! Antonio was an extremely nice, meek and easygoing country – everybody knew that. He could also be the biggest, most dangerous and dominant bastard I had ever seen – everybody knew _that_, too. And then there was this _third_ side of him, that was all about love and hugs and passion and lust and groping soft stuff – a-and I hoped… I hoped **I** was one of the very few living beings around him who knew and had actively experienced _that_ special side of him, in spite of the many _rendezvous_ he used to have with other nations than me…

Yes, Antonio had many, many faces and oh boy, he used them all. He could also change between those faces rapidly. He… he could be hard to follow. A very sweet, naïve and caring Antonio could turn into a lisping, tempting and horny _animal_ in _seconds_. Sure, sometimes I definitely saw it coming from far away, but the opposite could also happen, like what had happened just now. W-with the neck-sucking 'n stuff. A-and I don't say I didn't _like_ that passionate roughness about him (maybe I even liked it), but… but he was so much more than just _that_ personality trait and…

Well, let's say it's pretty fucking _difficult_ to try and top the bastard when he his whole being was such a whirlwind of personalities.

'Lovino?' Antonio softly yanked on my sleeve, a worried ripple forming in his forehead. '…Lovi, what's wrong? You suddenly spaced out… o-oh god, am I doing something you don't like?'

'Huh?' I quickly blinked with my eyes, the second time that day already, and watched him in confusion. 'What? Something I don't… o-oh. No no, you're doing nothing wrong.'

He looked relieved and gave me a hug. 'Ah, that's good to hear!~'

'Yeah…' I turned to face him and patted his back awkwardly, trying to avoid doing something, _anything_ that could encourage him to carry on his (already very intrusive) touching and feeling, '…h-hey, I've got an appointment with Prussia in Germany, so…'

Antonio smiled and leaned down to kiss me on the lips, one of his hands slowly stroking the back of my head. Then he deepened the kiss, just for a little bit, just for a quick taste of my dawdling tongue, before pulling back with a wet, smacking pop, hugging me close again.

'Ah, yes… you told me yesterday you were going to see Gilbert…' he said, his warm, moist breath tingling on my skin, '…and that's so _strange_, Lovi…'

I panted softly, my sight already becoming a bit blurry. 'W-what's… what's so strange about visiting a German asshole that I can't stand?'

Antonio stared at me for a while, grinned and gave me another swift peck on the lips. 'Well… pretty much that whole _sentence _is strange, Lovino.'

'… i-is not!' I protested and gently fondled the arms wrapped around my neck because I was looking for a weak spot somewhere in his… arm… area, dammit, and _not_ because I was trying to be sweet or cute! I wasn't cute! I didn't _do_ cute! The whole world knew that somebody as unpredictable as _me_ shouldn't and _couldn't_ be called _cute_!

H-however, Antonio was a special case.

'You're so sweet… ah, and so _cute_…' Antonio sighed dreamily and rubbed his nose against my slightly reddened one, '…when did you become such a cutie, Lovi?~ You have to tell me…'

I felt a frown coming up and blushed. 'T-the hell do I know why you think I'm c-cute, you weirdo…'

He laughed quietly and looked me deeply in the eyes, tugging a bit on _that cursed little evil strand of hair_ on top my head. Oh _fuck. _I hissed and immediately grabbed the fabric of his shirt tighter. I couldn't think properly whenever that handsome asshole pulled my curl, so when I hesitated between pulling him close and pulling him close, I chose to pull him close. It actually wasn't a difficult decision, strangely enough.

'Ah, Lovino… I feel pretty good right now, you know?' Antonio said and cupped my face. I shivered when he moved his thumbs over the sensitive skin of my cheeks.

'T-that's great,' I mumbled, '…n-now let go of my face so I can—'

'…make _wonderful, spectacular_ love with me?~' Antonio chirped, and _yes,_ _thank god_ that was happily and annoyingly enough to severely disturb the romantic mood. And with severely, I meant _severely_ – I instantly stopped trembling and shivering and simply plucked his arms off me, all while _scowling _like either Sweden or a random pregnant woman who just found out she was out of chocolate.

Tssk. Way to go ruining the atmosphere, Antonio. Really. That mood swing just cost you one semi-horny Italian.

W-which was obviously very good. Yes, I was really thankful for that.

Sort of.

**xXx**

Shortly after that, I wanted to prepare myself for the long trip to Germany and went outside, to the car, to give the stupid, complicated navigation-system inside of it instructions on how the _hell_ to get to Berlin.

'So…' Antonio started, who had followed me and was now standing next to the car, '…where exactly are you going to meet Gilbert?'

I looked away from the navigation system for a bit and shot an angry glare at him. '_Damn_, Spain, your memory _sucks_! I told you yesterda…'

I suddenly fell silent when I watched him bit better. Then I gasped, jumped out of the car, dashed towards the oblivious idiot and jammed a finger into his ribs.

'What are you _doing_, you moron? Where's your fucking coat?'

'O-ouch, Lovi…' Antonio smiled nervously and grabbed my wrist, '…it's inside, I gue—'

'Why aren't you wearing it? Do you have any idea how bad it is for someone in your condition to stand outside without a coat or jacket or something?' I spat, jerking myself free.

He pouted. 'Ah, but it's nice weather! And I already told you I feel better, so…'

I put my hands on both my sides. 'I know that! But still! You should be more careful! Y-you were a complete mess last week and I don't want that to happen again, d-dammit!'

'Lovi…' Antonio gave me an admiring look and nodded hastily, '…I-I'm sorry, Lovino, I'll go get a coat right away!'

'G-good!' I said grumpily.

He took a few cautious steps backwards. 'Wait for me and your kiss good-bye, okay? Don't sneak off while I'm inside!'

I rolled my eyes. 'I _will_ if you don't hurry the fuck up!'

That was enough to send Antonio running inside the House.

**xXx**

There was a reason why I was wearing a neat suit – and _no_, it wasn't because of the psycho-albino freak.

That was the first thing I explained to Antonio after I had told him last night that I would be wearing a tuxedo when I was going to visit Prussia: it _wasn't _because of _Prussia_. At _all._

It was because of the _restaurant_ where we were supposed to meet.

I didn't know why, but for some strange reason, Prussia had made an appointment in the luxurious and international restaurant/hotel/fucking fancy and expensive dining room called _"Lux 11_", somewhere in Berlin. According to the reviews I've read about it, only really sophisticated and filthy rich people go to stuff their faces at that place. And it _oozed_ elegant gracefulness, to the _max_. I mean, you'd probably get _killed_ by offended and absurdly fat chefs and cooks if you had the fucking nerve to order a shockingly simple dish like a plain tomato soup. Seriously, they'd _mob you_.

So… all of this _really_ made me wonder why the _hell_ somebody as undead and immature and downright _vulgar_ as freaking _Prussia_ was allowed to even _consider_ having a meal there.

Unless he let his stupid yellow chick make the reservations. That bird was more convincing as a nation than Prussia was.

**xXx**

Anyway…

After Antonio had come back outside with a warm coat draped over his body, I told him, once again, where I was going to meet his stupid albino-friend.

'Remember now?' I pouted, folding my arms while glaring at the sick Spaniard, '…it's in _Berlin_ and the place is called _"Lux 11_". Get it?'

Antonio smiled apologetic and nodded. 'Ah yes, I get it now, Lovi.'

'I hope you do.' I snorted and sighed softly, carefully (and very _nonchalantly_, of course) moving a bit closer to him. '…s-so, what are you going to do today while I'm away?'

Antonio chuckled and caressed one of my cheeks with the back of his hand. 'Hmm… I don't know, maybe I'll just try to rest a lot today.'

'Sounds like a plan.' I dryly remarked.

He raised one of his eyebrows and leaned over towards me more until our noses touched. '…well, it's indeed something like a plan… since I _do_ have something planned for tonight, my lovely Lovi...~'

'O-oh?' I flushed, but couldn't help but stare back at him as my wussy stammering continued, '…so… you think you're able to… y'know…'

He kept on stroking my face. 'I think so, yes.'

I knitted my brows together. 'I won't be back for dinner, Spain. Germany is pretty far away from here, after all.'

'I know.' Antonio said.

'And… it'll… it'll probably already be very late in the evening when I come back, really…' I mumbled sheepishly, '…y-you know what I'm saying? You could be asleep and… and I think rest and sleep is good for you, so… I-I don't want to wake you up.'

'You don't have to wake me up. I'll be waiting for you, my Lovi.' Antonio reassured me with a pleasant smile.

I didn't know where to look at. Dammit, that f-fucking charmer, making me all confused. I slowly shook my head. 'You… you don't have to.'

'But I will.'

'But you really don't have to.'

'But I will.'

I huffed. 'Screw you then!'

He grinned broadly and gave me a hug. 'Aww!~ I love you too!~'

'M-moron…' I muttered, but let him cuddle me and carefully lifted my arms to hold him as well, just… just for a minute or two. God, I hated myself for acting like such a lovesick loser. For God's sake, I was only going to fucking _Germany_! And only for a couple of hours! I wasn't going to _die_ or something like that! So why the fucking hell was I holding him so tightly, dammit! I squeezed my eyes shut. Shit, I'd blow myself up right away if somebody other than Antonio ever saw me this fucking clingy and needy!

'There's nothing wrong with showing you care, you know?' I heard Antonio say quietly, out of the blue.

I blinked and turned away from his gentle eyes and voice by pushing my embarrassed face into his chest. 'S-stop reading my mind, you jerk…'

He laughed, running a hand through my hair. 'It doesn't take a mind-reader to be aware what you're thinking, Lovino. An absentminded lover will do just as well, ahahaha…'

'Shut up, d-dammit…' I moaned silently. I loved it when he touched my hair like that.

'Silly Lovi, you _know_ I won't shut up.' Antonio calmly said and suddenly placed his hands on my shoulders to push me away a bit, '…ah, maybe you should go now, by the way. It'll be very rude to make Gilbert wait, y'know?'

I tilted my head and shrugged. 'Yeah. So?'

Antonio frowned. 'Well… um… that wouldn't be polite.'

I stared at him, confused. 'I don't get what you're saying.'

'You mean little thing.' Antonio sighed in dismay, but his huge grin told me he was actually pretty amused by my crude and unintentional bluntness.

Then he took a hold of my face, lifting it ever so slightly until our eyes met. '…you better be going now, okay Lovi? Will you send Gilbert my regards, hmm? Oh, and ask him about his date! He told me last week he had a date this week, so please don't forget to ask him all about that!~'

I grumbled, but nodded begrudgingly. Ugh. As if I was interested in Prussia's lousy love-life. I already knew way too much about it, anyway, thanks to the mindless blabbering of Antonio – a crowned and award-winning chatterbox _and_ the current ruler of the Land of the Stupid and Oblivious Bastards with Munchtastic Asses.

And about Prussia... well, the story in short: ever since Canada had broken up with Prussia a couple of weeks ago, the German bastard seemed to be stuck some sort of never-ending downwards spiral of depression. According to Antonio, he spent most of his days in a small corner of one of the rooms of his and Germany's House, sulking and _evilly_ emailing spam to Canada. 'Cause that's what you _do _when your heart has been broken - you send your former lover fucking _viruses_.

All very sad and awkward, yes. And sure, I guess could understand a bit why Antonio wanted me to go all empathic on his shitty friend when I was going to meet him today, but _fuck _that asshole, I already had a very dense Spaniard to take care of. Besides, I didn't give a _crap_ about Prussia.

But okay, I suppose it was a good thing that he had a date with some kind of chick. Or guy. Or actual _girl_. So yeah, I'd ask him about it.

Probably.

Meanwhile, Antonio was still musing – and still holding my face.

'Ah, I sure hope Gilbert will find happiness again. But I think he'll be okay, if he's already dating others. That's a good sign!~' he tittered cheerfully.

'Yeah, whatever. Look, are you finished yet, you ass? I want to go!' I nagged at Antonio, deepening my frown, '…because the sooner I'm in Germany, the sooner I'll be back again!'

He nodded, still smiling. 'Yes yes, I'm finished!~'

'About fucking time, bastard… n-now…' I quickly moistened my lips and yanked on the collar of his coat, pulling him down, '…h-hurry up and kiss me good-bye.'

'Y-yes, with pleasure!~' Antonio reddened a bit as he chuckled and brought my face closer to his own. I felt my heart bounce up in exaltation when he eagerly connected our mouths together with a firm kiss and shut my eyes, but j-just for the hell of it, not because I liked it even better this way! I swear!

But maybe that's a lie.

After fooling around with Antonio for a little bit longer, almost forgetting about Prussia and _oh so very close_ to whisper to the Spanish nation with a few panting breaths to just _take me_ _already_ (and I _know_ that wasn't a very manly or dominant thing to do, but _shut the fuck up_, I was having a passionate and romantic moment with him here), I finally succeeded to get my mind straight again and pulled away, swallowing heavily.

'W-well. I guess I'll see you tonight, then.'

'Ah, that's right, Lovi!~ I'll see you tonight.'

'Yeah, so… um… bye.'

'Bye, Lovino.'

'…'

'Lovi, you can let go of me now. But thank you for the hug!~'

'F-fuck! I didn't hug you! I didn't hug you at all!'

'Of course you didn't.'

'What's with that smirk, you bastard?'

…and so on, and so on.

In the end, it already was ridiculously late in the morning when I started my engine (at last) and stepped on the _motherfucking_ gas like a madman, just to get a move on.

But.

After I had quickly glanced over to Antonio one last time, who was waving me good-bye from the garden with a small smile on his lips, I suddenly realized something.

My god. This fucked-up morning ritual (with the kissing, the cuddling, the crazy feelings) was going to be exactly the same _every single time_ I attempted to visit another country, right? Yeah, it was! Damn, just look at us, we almost looked like a marr…

I gulped and gripped the wheel a bit more forceful.

L-like a married…

…

…maybe he should hurry the fuck up and propose to me already.

Fuck, no. S-scratch that, scratch that…


	8. Caboose

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Well, not so much fluff in this MONSTERLY BIG chapter – but there __**are**__ weak attempts of me to create humoristic situations! Wheee!~ D-did I do a good job? _^^;

_A/n2: Wow, I can't believe how many people were sad about the break-up of Gilbo and Mattie! Just in case if I hadn't told you already – they WILL get together again. But not in this story, in another short, two-shot story I'm planning to write after this, that's about how Gilbo and Mattie broke up and how they got together again. Yay!~ _

_A/n3: …u-um… how do you like my Prussia? Please tell me… _*fidgets*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter VIII:

_**Loose Caboose  
**__**(Joe Tex)**_

Berlin. Let me tell you something about Berlin.

…well, it was pretty damn _clean _in Berlin, that's for sure. Oh, and it was a city way bigger and more populated than Paris – or Rome, for all that mattered. Berlin wasn't as messed-up as Paris was and, yes, I could tell by driving into the city that I was no longer in a Southern European country anymore. The streets weren't as narrow as I was used to, the people were all walking but especially _driving_ (damn those crazy-assed Autobahn-freaks!) a lot faster than for example in Spain and _oh my fucking god_, I was _freezing my balls off_ here!

Stupid… fucking… chilly country of… coldness! Shit, _now_ I knew why Germany and Prussia were such pale assholes!

But unlike Paris, it was actually pretty easy to find my way around Berlin. Sure, I still thought the city was bleak, coolly and simply _breathed _authority, but – and I hated to admit this – I liked that I _didn't_ get lost and that I didn't have to burst out to tears again for a change, because it all went just so smoothly.

N-not that I burst into tears a lot. Fuck you, of course not.

I just happened to be very allergic to air.

**xXx**

It wasn't that hard to find a parking spot – they were friggin' _everywhere!_ – so I decided to have some fun and parked my car somewhere in a garage with a roof. Just so that I could put the car on a German roof. I liked the idea of my own car, _staring down _at the stupid loser-cars of Germany in _scorn. _It would be a fucking hoot. So I was very satisfied with myself and my car when I left the garage and went to the restaurant Prussia and I were supposed to meet.

As I walked over the (freakishly neat and clean and _boring_) streets, I noticed how fucking _busy _every human being was around me. Everybody was in a hurry. Men and women were all dressed in formal clothes and coats and seemed to have forgotten how to walk normally, since they were fucking _sprinting _the entire time. It was pretty damn weird to see, actually. There were people running up and down the street _everywhere_, no matter where I looked.

Huh. I frowned and decided to speed up my usual pace, just to not _completely_ stand out from the hasty people from Berlin. Damn, now I began to understand why people from these kind of lands were always looking so tired and stressed out – they never took a freaking _break_, did they? They were walking _wrecks_! Holy shit, if I had to live like that…

In Italy and Spain, things weren't as complicated for the people living there as for those who were living here, I think. I mean, look at Antonio. When that idiotic Spaniard wasn't sick or trying to sex me up, he spent most of his time… loafing around his House, eating tomatoes or grinning stupidly with a smile so damn big and bright it could outshine the sun and blind every single person on earth, including _me_. That's right, I seriously wondered why I was still able to _see_, since most of his smiles were directed at… m-me.

Just like his random hugs. And his kind words. And his cheerfulness.

But not his heart. That was mine _only_. He had given it to me a long time ago and no way I was going to give it to anybody else, d-dammit!

I-it was a fair trade. I got his, he got mine. I knew he'd take care for my heart just right, I knew he'd shower it with affection and love and naturally, I tried to do the same with his heart. It… it wasn't always easy to "just" do that… and I figured it was more difficult to pamper his heart as lovingly as he pampered mine, but I did the best I could, dammit… a-and luckily enough, he was aware of those awkward efforts of mine…

'_Ah, don't worry, Lovi… I know you care. You just show your love differently, that's all. I don't mind it, not at all. I love you, you know?~ Just for being you. That's all I ask from you, my love…'_

H-he was _very much_ aware of my efforts, really.

And I guess I kind of… loved him for that…

But I swear, if that bastard didn't take care of my heart good enough, I'd kick him in the face.

Damn straight I would. I nodded approving and then crashed into something cold, hard and metal, what reminded me to the very useful fact that it's never a good idea to daydream about girly, metaphorical shit while walking down the streets. _Ever_.

Stupid German lamppost, dammit!

**xXx**

After yelling at the lamppost for a couple of minutes and not-crying at all because I bumped my head (and p-pretty fucking hard too, goddammit), I finally made it to the magnificent building that was _"Lux 11_".

It was… it was… Wow.

That was one scary, big, white restaurant. With lots, _lots_ of windows. And terrifying, red-colored skylights, as if I just arrived at a very _distinguished_ but above all a very _German_ red-light… whorehouse… district… thingy. Ugh… It gave me the fucking creeps, dammit…

I fidgeted with my tie. Oh god. I was standing in front of these… _gigantic _doors and almost didn't dare to walk inside, just because there was a freaking red carpet rolled out and because there were several people in fancy clothes who were casually walking in and out of the white monstrosity, like they wanted to rub into my face how disgustingly wealthy they were and how utterly low-grade I looked in my simple suit and with that stupid sore, red mark on my forehead…

…well, okay, it's not like they actually _stared _at it or _poked_ it, but still! I just knew those fuckers were at least _thinking_ about it! I could _sense_ it!

But when I was about to run over to a very fragile, friendly and old-looking German who was looking into the _exact_ opposite direction to flip the bird at him and tell him what a huge bastard he was for thinking mean thoughts about me (shut up, he totally was, his shivering, crouched back told said so too), a waiter with a nasty little goatee suddenly showed up in front of me.

Whoa!

I jumped up and shrieked – _courageously _and _stoutly_, of course, and not at all like a scared little girl. Oh my fucking _god_, that dude almost scared the shit out of me, popping up like that!

The guy patiently watched me dramatically clutching my chest for a minute or two, before clearing his throat and saying something to me.

In fucking _German_.

Now was it _my_ turn to raise a eyebrow. Oh, _great_. Hell if I knew what the fuck he was telling me, I didn't know German – because I _wasn't_ a villainouslittle bastard like my moronic younger brother. That reminded me: next time I saw that wuss, I'd smack him on the head with a Spani— _Italian _dictionary, dammit! That'll teach him to abandon our wonderful language!

…and then I'd boil him some pasta to make him stop crying, because I always felt kind of sorry afterwards and I knew he liked the way I cooked.

…hm. Maybe I missed him. Just a bit.

Meanwhile, the German goatee was still talking to me, blissfully ignoring the painfully obvious fact that I didn't bother listening to a single word he was saying anyway. Why would I – I wouldn't understand him! I eventually got bored with him and his stupid evil language, and so I decided, just for the hell of it, to imagine the waiter was actually telling me in a _very fucking enthusiastic _tone of voice about the way he had brutally killed his mother-in-law: by gently_ chucking her out of a window_ from a very random, but very great height.

Followed up by a refrigerator.

A _burning _refrigerator.

D-dammit. I started to shake a bit and gnawed on my lower lip to keep myself from snorting out loud. Oh my _god_, I cracked myself up…

But not for long.

Because… didn't a couple of those words sound… _awfully_ familiar to me?

T-that was… scary…

I stopped chucking and giggling immediately the minute I realized the _**horrible**_ fact that I _**indeed**_ recognized a few of the words the waiter was mercilessly attacking me with. I gulped, but yes, when I (_extremely _reluctantly) decided to listen a bit better to the German, I figured he was – probably – telling me…

A: something about Prussia and his human last name;

B: something about his personal frustrations concerning Prussia's inappropriate behavior (oh god, what did that bastard do);

C: something about Italy;

D: something about a beautiful woman, and finally…

E: something about me, or at least my nation name.

In other words, I kind of _knew_ what he was trying to tell me.

…

Oh GOD. OH NO.

I mean, what the _fuck_? I actually _understood_ a bit of _German_? W-what in the fucking name of _crap_ was wrong with me, goddammit! I felt myself becoming as white as a sheet and began to bite my nails furiously. Why? Why? Why oh _why_ did some of those words sound so fucking familiar to me? It's not like I took German-classes in secret, so why did I—

Wait a minute. I suddenly squinted my eyes to tiny little splits and stopped tugging on the nail of my thumb. Oh, I _knew _why I knew some German, alright...

Damn you, Feliciano, for making me watch your gross German trash every time you wanted to see a movie together with me so badly!

**xXx**

Well, thanks to my embarrassing large knowledge of the German language and a helpful, yet still nasty goatee-man (ugh, beards are disgusting), I managed to figure out that Prussia was already sitting at our table and that he was waiting eagerly for me to show up.

That was a bit surprising to hear, actually. I knew Prussia didn't really _dislike_ me (or so Antonio had said), but I also knew the albino-freak had once called me a "messed-up, mentally unstable pain in the ass" and a "shitty brat with a very un**_awesome_** temper". That stupid bastard. He had _always_ thought Antonio was way too good for me, always, even though he had been aware of Antonio's developing feelings of love for me from the very beginning of our weird, wacky… w-wooing.

But I guess… yeah, I guess he probably just found it hard to believe that his goofy, bird-brained friend _Anton_ had the actual strength and willpower to keep up with my… what shall we call it… _moodiness_. Yes, moodiness.

Strangely enough, Prussia's distrust didn't surprise me. He wasn't the only one who had thought Antonio wouldn't be able to ever win my trust and/or conquer my heart – _lots_ of nations had thought so.

Hell, I used to be one of those skeptical bastards for a very long time, too.

'_Ah? You don't believe me when I say I love you? That's too bad, since I really DO love you… oh well, maybe you just need to hear it more often!~ Is that it? Okay! I'll just keep on saying it then, until you believe me! I'll make sure to kiss and hug you a lot, too! Ready, my lovely Lovi? Here I go! I love you! I love you! I love—'_

…yes, I used to be one of them. B-but not anymore.

Anyway…

The goatee-waiter, who was apparently sent by Prussia himself, made me follow him to a beautiful dining room. Now, I could get really poetic about how the damn place looked like and stuff, but to be honest, I didn't pay much of attention to my (mostly very black and white-colored) surroundings. Hell, I just wanted to sit down already and have something to eat! Besides, I was still too upset about my… ugh… _hidden German_-side to do anything else right now. Good god… I think I needed at least a year to recover from that emotional shock…

It was busy in the dining room – and I swear, I seriously didn't know how many necks and faces I accidentally jammed my elbows into – but before I knew it, I was suddenly standing in front of a nice little table with lightened candles, a beautiful white table-cloth and a freaky, yet decently dressed albino/German/moron who cocked his head in surprise when he saw me.

'Romano?' Prussia finally said, not even trying to hide his disappointment as he leaned back in his chair and frowned, '…aw man, I thought you were somebody else. What the hell are you doing here?'

'Huh?' I blinked with my eyes in confusion.

'Okay, whatever, I guess I can hang out with you for a while…' Prussia sighed deeply, but then made a quick, dismissive wave with his hand to the worried and fidgeting waiter – poor goatee-man was obviously thinking he had done something wrong – and waited until the flustered man had walked away.

As soon as the waiter had disappeared into the crowded mass of people, Prussia immediately lost his bothered expression and grinned broadly at me, slapping his hand on the table. 'Have a seat, Romano! I haven't got much time, but I just _have to _tell you about this really hot chick I'll be having dinner with!'

'…um, okay…' I said and slowly sat down on the empty seat left, scowling. What was that bastard talking about? When was he going to have dinner with that date of his? Was I missing something? And why was he so surprised to see me? I mean, hadn't we arranged this meeting like… a couple of weeks ago already?

And where was his fucking bird?

Ugh, whatever. I forced myself to act like I was actually _interested_ in that asshole's stupid date – after all, showing interest was all what Antonio had begged me to do, and so… well, okay then.

'So, you're having a date, huh.' I heard myself grumble.

The scary, red eyes of the weird German nation started to shine as he nodded hysterically. 'You bet your scrawny little Italian ass I am! Man, I'm all fired up about this, you know? This woman I'll be seeing, this whole dating-thing and all… it's kind of nerve-wracking, even though I really don't need to be all nervous about it because I'm _too freaking_ _**awesome**_ to be nervous! But I still am! Isn't that weird? Kesekesekese!'

'Oh, you are all _kinds_ of weird.' I bluntly remarked and grabbed the menu from its (kind of funky looking) holder, '…hey douchebag, is it okay if I order something to drink already? I'm thirsty like you wouldn't believe.'

Prussia eyed me strangely, pouted and shook his head. 'What? Of course you can't order a drink, you punk! Geez, my date's about to show up any minute now and you want to have a drink? What are you, a moocher? You should be happy that I'm _**awesome**_ enough to have let you enjoy my _**awesome**_ company for this long!'

Wait, what the hell? I instantly dropped the menu from my hands and shot an evil glare at the – also evilly glaring – ex-nation on the other side of the table.

I felt myself getting annoyed, but managed to keep it cool ( come on, I was in a fancy restaurant, I couldn't get all Mafioso on him _now_). Instead of that, I made a disapproving sound with my tongue and folded my arms. 'Tsk! You stupid asshole! Don't tell me you've actually planned to meet your chick _this_ evening!'

Prussia snorted. 'Then I have some bad news for you, brat: I _am_ meeting her this evening and that's that! And I don't get it, why the hell do _you_ care if I have a brunchtastic date today or not? It's not like I own you an explanation or something, you're not my… boyfriend…'

He suddenly became quiet and sighed, roughly ruffling his hair. I opened my mouth (because I _really_ wanted to yell at him for forgetting _everything _about our appointment), but then I shut it again. Man, he really did look like a mess. Canada must have hurt that German wretch pretty badly. I felt sorry for him, despite of the total weirdness of this situation, so I tried to be… oh god, help me… _nice_.

I could almost hear Antonio _squeal_ in pure bliss. _'So cute, Lovi!~ So cute, cute, cute!'_

I blushed involuntarily. Stupid, annoying thought about that annoying bastard, dammit...

'Look…' I began (a bit impatiently, yes, but still as nice as possible for me, so shut the hell up), '…I don't know _why_ you don't remember anymore, but I guess you have a lot on your mind, so I'll let it slip – for now.'

'Hooray.' Prussia rolled his eyes and made a swirly circle with his finger.

I pushed away the urge to whack him with the giant fish that was hanging on the wall behind him and did my very best to stay – relatively – nice to him.

'Listen, you stupid freak of nature, you and I had an appointment, get it? We were going to meet here, have some lunch, you'd tell me about… c-certain things, and then we'd be on our way home again. Remember?'

The look on Prussia's face gave away that he was really trying to search his brain to look up the necessary information (and it also gave away that my sad attempt to be nice to him had failed miserably), but it still resulted into a tired groan and a shrug.

'I'm sorry, Romano, you _mean little piece of shit_, but I only remember making an appointment like that with a very feisty-sounding Italian _girl _– her name was Ramona, I think – and _not_ with a hot-tempered _asshole _like_ you_.'

And that's when shit hit the fan. I suddenly got it. I _finally _got it. I understood why he was acting so confused. And _damn_, I sure as hell wasn't happy with that small bit of wisdom.

When I had called him a few weeks ago, Prussia apparently had thought - for some strange reason - I was a fucking _girl_.

God. This very moment was probably the moment I wanted to either kill Prussia with a teaspoon or get myself a bigger dick. Or, you know, the fucking _Y-chromosome, _since it seemed that I had lost that thing for, oh, I don't know, a _billion years or so_, goddammit!

That right! Not even my ancestors stood a fucking chance against my lack of manliness! No wonder why they're all dead, they probably died of sickening _shame _of me!

…and Feliciano, because he was also a huge fucking fruitcake.

**xXx**

Amazingly enough, I succeeded in staying calm and (somehow) continued my questions. My legs and arms were shaking with rage and I wanted to murder the albino-bastard _fucking badly_, of course, but _damn_, I sure knew to hide those violent cravings pretty darn good!

'Prussia… this Italian… no, this _Ramona_, did she call you on the phone to talk with you, let's say, two weeks ago?' I heard myself say slowly, gritting my teeth to avoid saying anything poisonous.

He was surprised and gave a nod. 'Yes, she did! Wow, who would've known that you'd guess that? Not bad for an un**_awesome_** loser, Romano!'

'…yeah, whatever. Oh, by the way, didn't she also say something about your brother? You know, didn't she call him a giant macho-bastard and didn't she threaten you to stab your eyes out with her thumb if you had the courage to bring him with you?'

'T-that's **_awesome_**, Romano! That's _exactly_ what she told me!' Prussia stared at me in admiration and clapped his hands, '…wow, just wow! I didn't know you were a psychic! Hey, why didn't you tell me sooner, then I could've made you send positive thoughts about me to Mattie!'

I slapped my own forehead – but not directly onto the bump from earlier, of course. 'Christ Prussia, just how stupid _are_ you? I'm not a goddamned psychic, you sick freak!'

'You're not?' Prussia frowned and scratched his chin. '… that's weird… But how do you know all of those things about Ramona's conversation with me, the—'

'BECAUSE THAT WAS _ME_ ON THE PHONE, JACKASS!' I roared in his face and fisted my hands, but almost immediately calmed down again after that outburst (still in a restaurant, still in a restaurant), panting a bit. '…THAT… that… ugh, that was _me_, you jerk! Romano! Not Ramona! Me! Get it now?'

He didn't really answer me. The pale-faced man's jaw _did_ hit the table though, and he slowly raised a finger at me, leaning forward with an utterly shocked facial expression.

'S-so… you're a _girl_, Romano?'

…

Well, what do you know? I was actually waiting for something _fucked-up_ like that to be said, since that was the perfect opportunity to softly whine in frustration and_ smack my head down on the table – _for _several_ times.

Bump? What bump? The _hell_ with the fucking bump!

**xXx **

Prussia wasn't exactly the… how should I put this nicely… well, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, let's put it like that. Hell, I bet he _still_ didn't know his day in the lime-lights of history was over since 19… whatever, 19-something, I guess. Like I care.

But anyway, the creep could really, _really _take his sweet fucking time to realize certain things – which was a good thing, but since he was Prussia and quite an asshole, you'd _still_ be hoping he was realizing things _correctly_.

So, the next thing I knew, I was trying my very best to explain to potato-brain Prussia what the fuck was going on as good as possible – before he'd do something crazy again, like… pulling down my pants, or calling Antonio to accuse him of being a hypocritical heterosexual, or calling France – just because it was fucking _France_.

In the end, it cost me two hours to help Prussia figure things out. Two shitty hours. Holy fuck. Know what that meant? That meant that I lost _two precious hours_ of my _life _that I was _never, ever_ going to see again. Two hours – flushed _right down_ the drain in that fancy German stink-hole.

Okay, maybe we did order some lunch in the meantime and sure, Prussia was pretty generous for paying for my food (some weird, dark bread with a friggin' _huge bratwurst_ and some cheese) and drinks (…beer, of course), but _damn_, my throat sure felt like fucking _sandpaper_ when I finally uttered the very last words of my monologue!

While I immediately _pounced_ my (_enormous_) glass of beer afterwards, I noticed from the corner of my eye that Prussia was slowly letting all of this information sink in. He kept on eating, of course, but still, I could tell he was carefully thinking about everything I had told him. And that was good, I supposed.

'So let me get this straight…' he suddenly said, still smacking and munching on a piece of _Frankfurter Wurst_, '…the reason you wanted to see me, was because you want me to tell you how to top _Anton_?'

'T-that's right.' I nodded, coughing a bit from the overload of beer, swirling around in my tummy and mouth.

'Okay, I guess that makes sense. But _damn_, you sure use desperate methods to make other nations meet up with you!' Prussia grinned broadly.

I cocked my head. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, making your voice sound like the shrill voice of a woman and such…'

I gripped the cold, smooth glass of my beer a bit firmer – _no,_ my hand didn't slip away at all, shut up – and narrowed my eyes. 'Goddammit, for the _twentieth_ fucking time already, I _wasn't _making my voice sound feminine on purpose, you red-eyed nutcase!'

'You didn't, huh?' The albino shrugged and took a sip from his own glass, '…so, how DO you explain the bitchiness of your voice, hm?'

'I don't know, I guess I'm just a very bitchy person, alright!' I hissed.

'I'm glad you think so too.'

'F-fuck you!'

'Aww! Look at you, all blushing and stuff!' Prussia snickered and suddenly plopped a hand on my head, just to rub his knuckles harshly against my (already so very sensitive, dammit!) scalp.

'You're ashamed, aren't you? Aww! Noogie noogie noogie!'

'Ouch! Cut it out, you – ow! – German freakshow!'

As I could've expected from a genuine member of the Bad Touch Trio, he totally, _completely_ ignored my protests, of course, and kept on molesting my head.

'Noogie noogie noogie!'

Until I grabbed his hand and the first thing my other hand could get a hold on.

'E-enough already!' I snarled, '…one more fucking "noogie" and I'll slice up your fucking testicles!'

He blinked his eyes and gasped quasi-dramatically when he saw my weapon of choice. 'Oh dear _god_, not the _butter-knife_!'

I felt myself getting even more embarrassed and let go of him, slamming the knife on the table again. Then I covered my face with my hands and started to wonder why the hell I even bothered coming to Germany, because I almost knew _for sure_ that Prussia wasn't going to help me anyway – I mean, he was a friend of _Antonio_, so there _had _to be something disturbingly wrong with him. And yet, here I was, getting laughed at by a nation that wasn't even a nation and wanting to cover myself with the – now dirty – cloth from the table very badly.

But then the laughter all of a sudden stopped, and a large hand was swatted against my back (what by the way almost caused me to slam my face into the half-eaten _bratwurst _on my plate).

'God, Romano, you sure are one messed-up nation, aren't you! But alright! I'll tell you what you want to know! I'm **_awesome_** like that!'

I looked up from my hands and stared at him. Sure, I could have said something mean and offending – I really _should have_ said something mean and offending to that murderous back-slapper, dammit – but I chose to just wait and see what would happen.

A good choice, since he started to talk.

**xXx**

'I bet you wonder why the hell _Anton_ and I had sex in the past, right? Want me to tell you about that, too?'

Prussia looked at me in sick curiosity, as if he wanted to see how I would react.

'Maybe.' I said, relatively nonchalant, even though I was spastically hacking into the defenseless _wurst_ on my plate like a fucking meat-madman on the loose.

He noticed and grinned, but spared me from any witty comments. Instead, he began to share his magical tales about his and Antonio's casual sexual adventures that I already loathed _very_ much.

'Right! Okay, first of all, you don't have to worry about your Spanish lover having any possible feelings of love or other romantic crap like that for me – me and _Anton_ weren't in love with each other. Not at all. Which was very weird since we'd actually make a pretty darn **_awesome_** couple if think about it, but still.' Prussia said and took another gulp of beer.

'Aha.' I frowned and looked down my glass for a moment before continuing, '…so I guess you and Spain, just like France and Spain, only slept with each other to relieve each other's sexual frustrations and shit like that, huh?'

'Hell no!' Prussia laughed and shook his head, '…oh no, the reason why _Anton _and I fucked each other was ever more pathetic than _Franz's _reason!'

I cringed. 'Is… is that even possible?'

He nodded and gave an impatient sigh. 'Romano, _Anton _and I only had sex when we were _bored_.'

And with that, I jolted upright again. 'What the fuck? Only… when you were _bored_?'

'Yep. Because, you know, whenever he and I took a break from our exhausting life as badass countries who ruled the world and all, we always grew bored of doing nothing all day long. There was just… nothing exciting going on at all during times like that, so when _Anton_ one day asked me, "wanna do it?", I was all like "sure, why not?" and then the **_awesome_**ness got started!'

I didn't say anything, I just glared at the table-cloth. So Prussia took that as a good sign – his way of thinking blew my mind, really – and stretched himself contently.

'Ah yes, and then we'd decide who would be on top by flipping a coin. I always won, naturally, because I'm **_awesome_**.'

'Seriously?' I looked up at him skeptically, '…you always won thanks to sheer _luck_?'

'Of course not, Romano – geez, I thought you were the _brighter _one of the Italian twins! No, the reason I always won was because I said "head – I win, tails – you lose" right before I'd flip the coin. So really, _Anton_ never stood a chance!'

I stared at him, absolutely _shocked_. Not only because of Antonio's unbelievable – and yet _believable_ – stupidity, but also because of Prussia's wrong ideas about me and my brother's age.

'What? We're NOT fucking twins, you jerk! I'm three years older than Feliciano! Just because we're a bit alike, doesn't mean that—'

'Yeah, whatever, cry me a river, Ramona…'

'Romano!'

'Sure, sure.' Prussia rolled his eyes and made a sweeping movement with his hands, '…anyway, _that's_ how _Anton _and I used to do it. Nothing special, just sex. It wasn't even really _good_ sex, to be honest. Nothing like the sex I always had with Mattie, for example. But yeah… it kept us busy, I suppose.'

'Ugh.' I made a face and shivered, '…you're a such a creep for wanting to have sex out of _boredom_.'

'As if you and your sick Spaniard never get laid because you don't have anything better to do!' Prussia snorted, shoving his plate aside.

I blushed and did the same. 'T-that's different, because Spain and I… we're… y-you know…'

'Yes, I know, you and my good friend are quite the annoying lovebirds, blablabla, yadayadayada, I get it, the whole world gets it, pink unicorns everywhere.' Prussia mumbled, an angry and depressed look on his face as he looked around to make beckoning gestured to a waiter.

I watched him doing so and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. And a very, _very_ small bit of respect. I mean, I seriously didn't know how I would react if Antonio would come to me on a bad day and tell me that "it wasn't working out" between the two of us anymore... and I really didn't want to know how I'd react, too.

'Hey, Prussia?' I heard myself speak up suddenly.

He looked away from the man he was paying – where was the goatee-man, by the way? – and frowned. 'What?'

'Um. Well. I'm sure…' I took a deep breath before carrying on my stammering, '…it's just… you should stop dating random strangers. Because... I'm sure you and Canada will get together again.'

The expression on the German's face softened and lightened up a bit. 'Y-yeah? You really think so?'

'Yeah. Because… you and Canada are just like… you know… Spain and me. You don't fit together whatsoever.'

He grumbled. 'And that's a _good_ thing?'

'Yes, because it still _works_, doesn't it? You… well, you _complete _each other because you _love _each other, not because you _fit _together...'

I _really_ should stop remembering every love-speech Antonio ever gave to me, dammit.

Prussia's eyes grew wide and he slowly nodded his head, staring to an invisible point in the distance.

'Yeah, _that's _what I probably should have said to Mattie when he told me…when he told me…

Dammit, now he got me curious.

'What, when he told you what?' I asked persistently.

'Nothing, nothing!' Prussia beamed a huge smile at me and shot up from his chair, grabbing me by my arm, '…but thank you, Romano! Looks like you aren't such a mean bastard, after all! Let me show you my **_awesome_** gratitude by giving you some kinky stuff you can use to dominate _Anton_ with, okay?'

'K-kinky stuff?' I repeated, letting myself get dragged away by the cackling albino-bastard while stepping aside for the many guests of "_Lux 11_" we almost stumbled upon on our way out.

He laughed even louder. 'You bet! Oh man, you're gonna _love_ the stuff Ludwig has got in our basement! Ropes, whips, handcuffs, scary leather clothes… if _those _babies can't make _Anton_ surrender to you, _nothing _can!'

'W-w-what… w-what…' I stuttered, unable to say complete sentences but not _totally_ uninterested, because I…

I…

Kind of…

…l-liked…

…yeah.

**xXx**

Once we got outside, Prussia let go of me and looked at me expectantly.

'Okay, you wait here, then I'll quickly drive back to my and Ludwig's House to get you some of the good stuff! And then I'll come back here to give it to you! So, do you want something specific? I'll get it for you right away! Just tell me what you and _Anton _might like to do!'

I felt my face getting pretty damn hot again. This was all going so _fast_, dammit.

'Well?'

Oh god. I nervously licked my lips. My palms felt sweaty. Was I really going to tell him… _that_? Oh dear _god…_

Could faces explode from the wacky combination of embarrassment and full-blown arousal?


	9. Ass

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Just a general wondering – why the hell do seme's almost __**never**__ get totally naked in doujinshi's and manga's? Isn't it unfair to the – always butt-naked – uke's? I mean, what's up with that? If somebody could explain the reason to me, please do, since I just don't get it… _*frowns*

_A/n2: Prepare for some Feli and fluffiness! Oh, and some kind-of-smutty-but-not-really-smutty parts. Yay!~ If you want to, please tell me what you thought of it, okay? _^^

_A/n3: The songs (= chapter titles) are getting dirtier by the week. Did you know there are barely any nice songs out there about butts? Only nasty ones! So please, if you don't like smutty, creepy songs, __**don't **__look up the songs of the chapters. Seriously, some of them will __**scar**__ you…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter IX:

_**The Ass Song  
**__**(Dot Dot Curve)**_

I…

I really wish I wasn't into kinks.

B-but, well, it would be a pretty darn big lie if I said that thinking about things like bondage and stuff didn't_ at least_ make me feel somewhat light in the head. I-I didn't really know why, to be fair, but I _did_ know that I always shivered from pleasure whenever Antonio was pinning my hands just above my head firmly, maybe even a bit forcefully, during another hot, sweaty night…

It-it just felt really good, okay! I happened to like it! And as much as I wanted to take over control while having sex with him, I still enjoyed the sexy dominance of the stupid Spaniard very, _very_ much. I-I'd never tell him, of course, b-but yeah… f-for someone always taking the lead, he sure was… g-gentle. Even when he was gripping my hips tightly as he made love to me, he _always_ made sure to be very… gentle with me…

Maybe that's why I liked the idea of getting tied to the bed and stuff like that – I subconsciously _knew_ Antonio wouldn't hurt me for real anyway… s-so a bit of… you know… teasing squeezes and bites, or… wrapping me up with silk ribbons, or… s-saying dirty things to me… y-yeah… th-that didn't sounded so bad… that was… a really embarrassing kink of mine, I guess…

BUT!

It also was the _only_ kink I had (involving bondage-stuff)!

Because _no_, I actually _didn't_ like the idea of whips, leather, handcuffs or other scary shit that was black and creepy and evil and _German_ – my god, hell no! I was way too sensitive and refined and ga—_manly _to be using painful things like that while _getting it on _with Antonio!

…s-so… yeah… it was only the "getting tied up" –fantasy that got me hot and bothered, really…

Y-yes, the sheer image of me, being restrained by something soft, yet firm, flexible, yet inescapable… and Antonio, leaning over me, smiling cunningly as he rubbed his hands together before he put them down on my shivering torso, his now-warm fingers carefully caressing my skin… and then he'd _watch_ me, watch me squirm helplessly under his touch… and then he'd kiss me lovingly… and then… and then…

And then I topped the _hell_ out of him!

…somehow.

Hm. Maybe it would help if _Antonio_ was the one who was being restrained, instead of me.

…

And maybe I should stop being a stupid moron.

**xXx**

But anyway, here I was.

Standing just outside of _"Lux 11"_, leaning against a small wall, feeling and acting like a motherfucking _drugsdealer on the loose_ who was waiting for his _ho_ or some addicted loser-customers to show up. Man, I must have looked pretty badass!

I mean, I almost knew for sure nobody could see how dreadfully _pale_ I actually looked and how _painfully uncomfortable_ my heart was throbbing in my neck – yes, in my _fucking neck_. Or how _freakishly scared_ I was. S-stupid Berlin, dammit, creepy, stupid city with hasty people and weird dishes and _why the hell had I taken the offer of Prussia to let him bring me some kinky stuff from Germany, dammit dammit dammit oh god what the hell was I doing I don't even._

I wanted to slam my head into the wall because of the _shame_ and pure _agony_ of this all, of waiting for something really perverted to come, but… well, my head still hurt quite a bit from the lamppost, dammit. And I bruised like a peach. So I didn't slam my head into the wall – but I _did _glare at the wall and it was very menacing. HÁ!

Yeah.

Just before he had taken off to his House to get me the pervy crap, I had stuttered/mumbled/muttered to Prussia (after a fucking _shitload_ of persuasion from his side) what kind of kinky fantasy I _perhaps_ liked to see fulfilled. C-concerning sex with Antonio. And… stuff.

Goddammit, I had felt like I was going to die from _embarrassment_ - stupid, blushing head of mine, dammit – but Prussia hadn't even _blinked _at my confession, oh no, he had just… _stared_ at me. And he had clacked his tongue while shaking his head in dismay, maybe even in _disappointment_.

I could still hear his reaction echoing in the back of my head: _'Damn, Romano. Really? Only ropes, cordons, ribbons and silky shit? So you don't want anything more… you know, __**awesome**__? Or **manly**, for all that matters? No whips or toys? Boy, aren't you the wuss! No wonder you're always bottoming!'_

And then I had kicked him in the freaking _chimes_. Annoying bastard, dammit.

After that, he had limped to his dingy, greyish _Trabant_ (yes, he actually still owned a "car" like that), crawled inside of the heap of trash and he had driven away, leaving a very flustered and hesitating Italian behind.

…

Well. I thought I was going to bail out, really. After only a few minutes, I already was _this _close to running away from all this and getting the hell out of Berlin, but… I guess I just was _too_ curious to flee, because I _hadn't moved a fucking_ _**inch**_ since Prussia had left. And so, I silently waited in front of the restaurant until the fake nation would return.

But soon enough, I found out that _Prussia_ wouldn't return.

_Feliciano_ would.

Oh god.

**xXx**

How did I know it wasn't Prussia, but Feliciano who was returning back to me?

Well, first of all: because there wasn't a grey Trabant, but a _bright-yellow_ Fiat 128 driving towards me.

Second of all: because only _one_ idiot on Earth (shut up, Antonio doesn't count) would be willing to drive around in an_ ugly as hell _Fiat 128 (indeed, a small, crappy Fiat 128, not a super-awesome Ferrari 458 Italia or another cool, fast car, but a weird, silly, horrendous… _Fiat)_…

And finally… because I'd recognize that hysterical way of driving out of a billion others.

B-but what the hell? Why was he here? I happened to know that my stupid brother was (indefinitely) staying over at Germany's and Prussia's place (and I really didn't want to know what he was doing there all day long, really, really didn't want to know), so… wait a minute, did Prussia send _Feliciano _to hand me over the—

Oh _hell_ no. No no _no_.

**xXx**

Feliciano smiled broadly to me when he wiggled his way out of his… freaking toaster on wheels, and immediately made a dash at me, throwing his arms around me as if he hadn't seen me in months, dammit.

Which was true, though.

But it didn't mean it wasn't still fucking _annoying_ whenever he _attacked_ me like that! Shit, as if not-seeing each other for months is a valid excuse to _glomp _the shit out of me! I hated the fucking hugging! I hated, hated, _hated _it so much! It's probably impossible to imagine just _how_ much I hated it to get hugged!

…but naturally, I didn't push him away, because _okay_, _fine_, I had lied about the hughating-part. Maybe I actually… _liked_ to get hugged by certain persons. Just a bit, though.

'_Ah, Lovi!~ I didn't know you liked my hugs so much!~ You're so cute, my love, so very, very cute and soft, ahahaha…'_

Okay, maybe a bit much.

Especially when it was that stupid sick bastard back at hom— no, I-I mean, back in _Spain_. Which wasn't my home at all. Nope…

But I _did _hate it to hug in public! Made me feel fucking anxious, dammit.

'Ve!~ Hi big brother!' Feliciano's irritating voice suddenly rang through my head like a high-pitched, _screaming_ teakettle and I cringed from the shrillness if it because _oh dear god, my poor ears_. Then I smacked him in the face and tried to struggle myself out of his grasp, but damn, Feliciano could be fucking strong when he wanted to cuddle!

'Ve!~ Ve!~ I missed you!' he whined, rubbing his cheek against mine, '…ve!~ Just why don't you ever call me every now and then, big brother? I've got sooooo much to tell you! About me, and Luddy, and the proposa— ouch!'

He let go of me when I started to pinch his face and pouted, looking at me with teary eyes. 'Ve… big brother is mean…'

'Serves you right, dammit!' I snarled, dusting off my fancy suit, '…you fucking _know_ I don't like to have clingy brothers hugging my arm in public!'

'But Lovi, we haven't seen each other for so long!~ I just wanted to hug you for a bit…' Feliciano said, pulling on my sleeve.

I rolled my eyes and quickly patted his head, all big-brotherly –like. 'Yeah yeah, there there. I missed you, too. Now, you already hugged me, so we're through the cuddling-part – _no_, Feliciano, don't give me that kicked puppy-look, you know that doesn't work on me! Cut it out! And stop tugging on my sleeve, dammit, you'll stretch it.'

'Oh, sorry.' Feliciano gave me a small smile and let go of my sleeve, sheepishly wobbling a bit on his feet as he folded his arms onto his back. He then suddenly eyed me curiously.

'What?' I frowned.

He giggled. 'Ve, it's nothing, big brother… it's just that you look kind of happy, you know?'

'Y-yeah, well… I _am _happy.'

'That's good! I'm glad you are! Ve… so I guess big brother Toni is doing a great job taking care of you, right?~'

I snorted. 'Spain isn't taking care of me, you ditz – _I'm_ taking care of _him_! He's been sick for a while now, so…'

'I know.' Feliciano nodded, '…and I think it's wonderful you're being so nice to him!'

'S-shut up.' I blushed – hell, I wasn't even _trying_ to hold it back.

'But it's true, big brother! You're being very sweet to him!' my younger brother insisted, '…so _that's_ why I think it's kind of funny you all of a sudden want to top him so badly – with ropes and other kinky stuff you can use to tie people up – even though you know he's feeling very ill... '

HE KNEW. OH SHIT.

He ignored the weird, strangled noises that came out of my mouth and kept on looking at me, concerned. 'Ve… it's nothing like you, big brother… and I don't get it! I thought you really loved getting it up your bum…'

OH MY GOD, HE KNEW _**WAY**_ _**TOO MUCH**_.

Naturally, the intensity of my blushing face increased like _whoa_ and I spastically looked around me, hissing "ssh, shh!" –noises to my stupid brother while kicking him in the shins – _hard_. Stupid little brother and his stupid big mouth, dammit!

'G-goddammit, Feliciano, h-how… how did you find out about my plan, d-dammit! And for God's sake, keep your voice down! Do you want the whole fucking world to know?'

'O-ow! Big brother, please don't kick me!' Feliciano wailed, clutching his leg and almost falling over in the process, '…i-it's just… Gilbo told me about it when he returned from you!'

I felt a cold shiver running through my body and fisted my hands, breathing out slowly. 'He… he _told you _about my plan? Just like that?'

My brother hesitated, but nodded hastily when he noticed the freaked-out glint in my eyes. 'W-well… yes! Ve… I was standing in the kitchen, making some pasta with Luddy…'

OH HOLY MARY AND ALL THE FREAKING ANGELS IN THE SKY, THE WIENER-SUCKER KNEW TOO.

'…and then Gilbo suddenly burst into the house and ran over to Luddy to ask him where his kinky stuff was so that he could bring some of it to you, big brother, because you wanted to have sex with big brother Toni really badly and Gilbo said that you had to grab your chance to top him ASAP, now that big brother Toni was sick, and he said something about a girl named Ramona and then I told him I really wanted to bring you the stuff in his place since I hadn't seen you for months and missed you and oh yes, I still haven't told you about Luddy's proposa—'

'Oh GOD, stop TALKING, Feliciano, before I shove my shoe into that hole that's supposed to be your yap!' I interrupted him, already bending down to untie one of my shoes, '…see? See? I'm not afraid to do it! This one's already almost untied!'

That worked, as Feliciano immediately shut up. Sure, his face fell a bit, but _whatever_, his face probably fell a hundred times a day and he _always_ recovered from it surprisingly fast, so I couldn't care less, really.

I still stopped yelling right on the spot when I noticed his lower lip was starting to tremble dangerously, though.

Because, sure, I was fucking _impervious_ to the kicked puppy-look…  
…but not to the kicked puppy + quivering lip-look.

What? It was a _huge_ difference, alright!

**xXx**

'Ve… so, you haven't topped big brother Toni yet, Lovi?'

Feliciano looked at me with big, questioning eyes as he took a pretty big carton box – oh god, massive déjà-vu here – out of his car and helped me carrying it to the garage a bit further on, even though it wasn't heavy at all.

I winced a bit after the merciless, but also very _true_ words of Feliciano. Oh damn, it was even more embarrassing to hear _my_ _own brother_ making that shockingly shameful conclusion. Fuck. I felt my face heating up again, but sighed and admitted the horrible truth to him.

'…that's right, I haven't.'

'Oh.' Feliciano said.

'H-have you?'

'What?'

'S-shit Feliciano, do I really have to say it?'

'Ve, say what?'

'Oh for the love of… Have you ever… you know…t-topped the potato-bastard?'

'Oh yes, sure!~'

'What?' I stopped walking, just as we had reached the garage, and stared at my younger brother in disbelieve, my jaw almost hitting the ground, '…y-you mean you actually have topped _Germany_?'

'Yes!~' Feliciano chuckled and a light, pinkish color appeared on both his cheeks, '…several times! It's fun!'

_Several fucking times. _Huh. That Feliciano. Who would've thought my faggy brother could be a fucking _dominator_? I certainly not, I _still_ could hardly believe what I was hearing! And for some reason, I also had lost the ability to make big sentences – _and_ my ability to close my gaping mouth already, dammit.

'But… but _how_! And _why_! And _how_! I mean, he's a fucking giant! And you're… well, you're not! So…' I stammered.

'Hmmm? You want to know how I did it? Ve… I just told him I wanted to do him, for a change, and I asked if he was okay with that. And he was. So that's that!~' Feliciano smiled, '…so now every once in a while, we just switch roles. It's not as hard as it seems, you know? It's actually pretty easy, you just make sure he's feeling—'

…aaaand that's where I stopped him – just in time.

'E-enough, Feliciano, I get the picture. Just… just help me get this thing on the roof of the garage, okay?'

He blinked. 'Hm? Ve… but I think you can easily handle that last part on your own.'

I grumbled. '_Of course_ I can fucking _handle_ that last part on my own, dammit – who do you think I am, some kind of spineless moron? It's just… if you help me with the stupid box, I don't have to make up an excuse to talk to you for a bit longer before going back to Spain.'

'Oooh. Okay!~' My younger brother grinned happily and nodded, '…sure, I'll help you some more!'

'Thanks.'

I shivered and gripped the sides of the box firmer. Feliciano didn't say much, he just kept on smiling and bouncing up and down, an amused expression on his face as he poked me in the side.

'Hey hey, Lovi? Let's call each other more often from now on, okay?'

'…okay.' I huffed.

'Great! Oh, and let's have a double date with our future husbands soon, okay?'

'Future husbands? Dammit, Feliciano.' I gave a tired, maybe somewhat sad sigh, but smiled weakly at him. '…aren't you the dreamer, already thinking about weddings and that kind of shit. You have to get a proposal of the one you love first before you can worry about stuff like that, you know?'

He opened his mouth enthusiastically, but then closed it again, chuckling mysteriously. 'You're right. _You_ have to get a proposal of the one you love first, yes. Ve… that'd be nice.'

'What are you talking about?' I frowned.

He giggled, shaking his head. 'No, nothing, nothing important… ve, all you've got to focus on right now is your kinky night with big brother Toni, Lovi! Tie him up real good!~'

I flushed and stomped my fist on his head. 'S-shut the hell up, you idiot!'

Feliciano's started to laugh and his loud, joyful laughter filled up the dark, edgy garage with gayish happiness for a minute or two…

…until I got fed up with it and kicked his ass.

Of course, I loved my little brother very much – but the annoying, Germany-topping fag really had to learn to shut his fucking _trap_ more often.

…and that's exactly what I was going to tell him tomorrow, when I'd call him.

**xXx**

After saying goodbye to Feliciano and getting my car – actually Antonio's car, a fucking embarrassing car of an unknown Spanish company – out of Berlin, one unsettling, yet exciting thought crossed my mind as I glanced over my shoulders to look at the box full of German pervy-ness.

I was _so _going to have mind-blowing, _amazing_ sex tonight.

Oh yes, I totally was. And there would be some _tying_. Oh god. The thought alone was enough to make my lips dry and my pants just a little bit too tight. I couldn't wait until I was back at Antonio's place again. He probably would be waiting for me, just as horny and needy and I was, and damn, if he still felt just as stable as he did this morning, maybe we could go at it the whole freaking _night_, just like that one time, when we were forced to stay inside because of a freezingly cold storm outside and tried to warm each other up in that hollow House of his…

'_Oh yes, Lovi, it would be a honor to warm you up again… ahahaha… Just bend over a bit, will you?~'_

And that had been the fifth time already. God. He sure had warmed me up _good_ that night.

I trembled, lusty desires and wishes making me feel _way too fucking hot_. Oh _god_. Oh _yes_. I couldn't _wait_ for tonight, I just couldn't wait, I wanted him so much, it wasn't even funny. That goofy smile that could change into a fucking _dirty _one within seconds, those friendly, open eyes that could become dark and randy just as quickly… that gorgeous body, those wonderful hands, and… that… irreplaceable… _**ass**__._

I wanted it I wanted it I wanted it. I wanted it all. All of Antonio. And I _knew_ he wanted all of me, too. Everything.

With that fantastic thought in mind and _another_ fantastic something a bit _lower_, what could possibly go wrong?

**xXx**

Well, a _lot, _as it turned out to be.

Because when I finally arrived back ho—dammit – at _Antonio's_ place, I suddenly realized that I, stupidly enough, hadn't got a freaking _clue _on how to take the lead tonight.

Yeah. All those heated fantasies I had in the car? About me and Antonio doing… stuff? _I was the one bottoming_. Holy _shit_, and _how_. I swear, if those images in my head had been any more realistic, I had probably pushed some my fingers very eagerly into my…

…my… you know.

While driving.

…a-a-anyway, t-that wasn't important…

What WAS important though, was the simple fact that I _hadn't_ thought about topping the Spaniard. Not at _all_. I hadn't got a topping-strategy yet.

So when I got out of the car and walked over to the front door with the box full of joy and shame into my arms, I knew I would be in serious trouble if I didn't come up with a plan – _fast_.

I just needed some time. If I had a bit more time, I'd probably come up with something fucking brilliant, like *insert something fucking brilliant here* or something really clever and sexy, like *insert something really clever and sexy here*…

…so yeah, I had enough to do before the actual lovemaking, alright.

…

…I…could also just let him tie _me_ up, of course…

No, no! I swallowed and quickly shook my head. That's not the right way to become a topper - but it IS the right way to _get_ topped!

…topped really, _really good_, of course, but still!

Ugh. I groaned and gripped the doorknob with one hand. I seriously wondered how long I would manage to keep it up before I'd, very compliantly, let myself get molested by Antonio.

Because a little voice in the back of my head said I'd probably fall down on my back right away the minute I saw him making even the _slightest_ "come hither" –gesture.

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

I had to be the worst aspirant-topper ever.

**xXx**

When I entered Antonio's House, there were a couple of things that caught my attention right away.

And also drastically sped up the beating of my pleasantly surprised heart.

First of all, there were lightened candles everywhere I looked. Not a single lamp was switched on, but that didn't matter at all. The candles gave a really dim, yet romantic atmosphere to the House – hell, even the usual boring and casual hallway looked like it was the most beautiful place to be.

Second, there were rose petals on the floor – and a _lot_, I could barely see the floor. They made soft, rustling noises as I carefully shuffled into the direction of the living room.

And last but not least… there was sensual Spanish music playing in the background, the typical sounds of the guitar finding their way into my ears and heart with ease as I entered the living room, a delighted and excited blush spreading across my face rapidly.

O-oh wow. Looks like Antonio hadn't been sleeping a lot ever since I had left this morning. He probably wanted to do something ridiculously romantic with me this evening, like watching a crappy movie, making out on the couch, dancing around in the room and having sex in front of the fireplace on some large, fluffy carpet, like they always did in cheesy chickflics.

Too bad Antonio hadn't got a fluffy carpet or a fireplace that was still in use.

Oh well, making _magic_ happen in front of the radiator on a plain blanket sounded pretty special too.

Just when I was wondering where Antonio, t-that romantic bastard, could be (was he hiding somewhere, ready to jump me and drag me down to the floor to do stuff to me, or was he waiting in the bedroom with a huge bouquet of flowers, or was he just walking around the House – _naked_), I found him.

Lying on the couch.

In his stupid PJ's with the just as stupid long sleeves.

Snoring away.

Oh, and drooling. Don't forget the drooling.

I stood still and looked at the peaceful sight before me for a moment, before I sat down on the other red couch silently, placing the box I was holding next to me.

Well. This was… this was…

…absolutely _perfect!_

**xXx**

I could tie him up!

I could totally tie him up to the couch!

YES! This! This was it! This was the fucking brilliant, clever and really sexy idea I was hoping for! He wouldn't know what hit him when he'd wake up!

…sure, it was a fucking cowardly and sly move of me to overpower a helpless, sleeping man, but A: this _wasn't _"just" a helpless man, but _Antonio_, one of the most unpredictable nations of the world, and B: I didn't give a shit about being a chicken anyway.

So fuck you all – I was going to tie Antonio up very sneakily and I was going to like every fucking _second_ of it!

Okay! Manhandling-time!

I felt a smug smirk appearing on my face as I snatched the lid of the box and emptied the complete contents of it on my lap, all while staring intensely at the careless, Spanish bastard on the other couch. His nightgown (come on, what else was I supposed to call it, dammit) had crept up a bit and I saw that his strong, manly thighs, nicely tanned and _very muscular_, were in plain sight.

_In plain fucking sight. _

Oh my god. I stared at his legs a bit longer. F-firm. So firm and hot. It reminded me to the very obvious fact that probably only hunks like Antonio were able to have _freaking_ _sex-muscles_ in their thighs…

Then Antonio suddenly made some movements that – very likely – meant that he was going to wake up pretty damn soon ( because he became more active and lively, scratched his head, mumbled something in Spanish), so I quickly tore my hungry eyes away from that beautiful body (fucking sexy bastard even managed to look fantastic in those childish pajamas of his) to focus all of my attention on the ropelike-things on my lap.

Which, all of a sudden, had changed into a tangled heap of _horror_.

Oh _shit_. The smile on my face disappeared completely as I stared down at the chaotic mess of black ropes, pink ribbons, red cords and brown elastic bands (…interesting) I was covered with. Knots, loops, and other kinds of crisscrossed shit, all mixed up with each other and seemingly _impossible_ to untie, were surrounding and fucking _assaulting_ me like a bunch of… pocket-sized _pythons, _dammit!

That's just my luck. Fucking hell. I took a deep – but not too audible – breath and grabbed a few ropes, cursing softly as I attempted to disentangle them.

Fuck shit crap shit shit fuck shit dammit dammit dammit…

I glanced at Antonio as I fumbled with a ribbon. Well, at least he was still asleep. Hopefully, nothing else would go wrong from now and then _maybe_ I would be able to fix this rope-shit as fast as possible, before he'd wake up.

**xXx**

…but of course, everything only got _worse_. I should have known, really.

After fifteen minutes of wrestling with the heap of bondage-pleasure, I already was _completely_ tangled with all of the ropes and ribbons and I was barely able to move.

Indeed, I had tied myself up. That's just how much I sucked at this thing called "taking initiative". Or "life", for all that mattered. I mean, I didn't even know _how_ I had trapped myself within a quarter of an hour, but _damn_, I apparently had a huge knack for getting myself into ridiculously tight knots.

Everything that belonged to my body was tied up. Everything – except for my hands. Yes, my loyal hands were still trying their very best to save their beloved owner out of the mess, but it was no use – I was absolutely _stuck_.

And what was even _worse_: Antonio was now seriously starting to wake up. I felt myself getting tense and gulped. I didn't know what would go on in Antonio's mind if he saw me like this, but knowing him, he'd probably like it _very_ much, seeing me all tied-up and flustered _and_ seemingly readily offering myself to his lusts and sexual needs.

…and you know what, for once, I wouldn't blame him for thinking that, dammit.

**xXx**

Antonio woke up when he accidentally rolled himself off the couch and smacked down on the floor.

The loud noises of his body, slamming onto the hard wood, and his instant whimpering right after, assured me that he _certainly_ wasn't snoozing anymore now and I mentally prepared myself for whatever would be coming, trembling a bit from exciteme—n-no, _awkwardness _as the Spaniard slowly sat up on his knees and yawned shamelessly, rubbing something just underneath his nightgown.

At first I thought he was too drowsy – and too busy touching himself – to notice me (the fucking dazed look on his stupid face didn't need any explanations, really), but then two vague, light-green eyes unexpectedly met mine and grew a bit bigger in surprise.

'L-Lovi!' Antonio stammered with a raspy voice and hastily removed his hand. He blushed as he stood up from the floor and gleefully flopped down next to me.

'You're back already! That's great!~ I thought you'd be away for much longer, but here you are!~'

'Y-yeah, I'm back.' I confirmed his observations, wondering when he would say something about my current position.

He didn't seem to notice it yet and chuckled, reaching out his sleeve-covered hands to take a hold of my face. The soft fabric of his PJ's caressed my already painfully red cheeks as he rubbed his thumbs over my face carefully and he leaned over to me, pressing his lips on mine lovingly.

I sighed quietly and closed my eyes for a bit, automatically responding to him. I didn't hold back when he slowly deepened the kiss and managed to grab the front of his weird nightgown to pull him closer. His heated kiss and gentle touches almost made me lose it, but just when I thought he wanted to go further, he stopped and pulled back.

'…welcome home, my love.' he whispered, his eyes smiling just as much as his mouth, and he absentmindedly licked my saliva from his wet, moist lips.

O-oh crap… I tried to avoid looking at that skilled tongue of his – that one muscle had done so many things to my body already and it always left me breathless whenever I saw it licking something, _anything_ – and spastically shook my head.

'S-shit, t-this isn't my home, y-you asshole!'

'Yes, just keep telling yourself that!~' Antonio said, his voice cheerful and normal again as he let go of my face to take my hands in his, '…but! I promise you there _will _come a day you'll willingly call my House _our _House, Lovino. And when that day comes, I'll throw a party for the whole of Europe – except for the Netherlands and England, since I hate them. Okay?~'

'Never going to happen.' I snorted.

'Ahahaha. We'll see, my lovely Lovi…' He grinned and squeezed my hands, before giving me a swift peck on my forehead, '…but for now, I'd like to know why you are tangled with ropes, my love.'

I frowned. 'So you _did_ notice.'

'Right away.'

'Then why didn't you _say something_ about it right away!'

'Ah, I don't know, I thought you probably had a good reason to be in this position and I wondered if you'd tell me yourself.'

'If I'd tell you what?'

Antonio's eyes darkened and he laughed lowly, giving me another quick kiss, this time on the lips.

'…if you'd tell me to help you _loosen up_, my love…'

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just stared at him. While blushing, of course.

'Is it alright?' he asked, just to be sure, and gave my hands a soft squeeze again, '…can I help you, Lovi? Do you _want_ me to?... It's your call, you know…'

I bit on my lower lip and turned my head away from him.

Y-yes, I knew it was my call, dammit…

But… but just what _was_ my call right now?

Top? Or bottom?


	10. Butt

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Ever read a chapter that's not only very long, but also full of randomness, fluffiness and semi-smuttiness? Well, I'm afraid you're about to. Oh god. _*attempts to flush herself down the toilet*

_A/n2: Once again – thank you, anonymous reviewers! Some of you really made me laugh with, for example, a very casual suggestion to let Lovi top – you know who you are!~ I'm afraid I have to turn you down for now, though…_

_A/n3: …please let me know if I actually went too far in this chapter. Because I think I might did… oh, and review me if you feel like it, okay? _^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter X:

_**What What – In The Butt  
**__**(Samwell)**_

I had always told myself that I didn't like being the one getting topped.

Because… well, it was weird to like something like that, dammit! How the hell could I enjoy something as… as _dirty_ as getting something "up my bum", as Feliciano, subtle as he could be, had put it? I mean, _eww_! If you really, _really_ thought about it, it just wasn't right! In fact, it was very _wrong_! 'Cause things aren't supposed to go up there, no matter how nice the feeling is!

…n-not that I could tell from personal experiences. Hell no. I mean… it's not that I secretly _liked_ to shove random things up my butt in private and then pretended it was Antonio or something like that…

…w-well… okay then… m-maybe sometimes, when I was bored. Which was like, almost never. Four, five times a week, mostly.

…

Yeah. That certainly counted as "almost never". In fucking _France_.

U-ugh…

But I swear to God I didn't do it very often anymore, since Antonio one time actually caught me when I was... doing something… interesting… to myself…

Yeah. I never saw somebody change from "extremely confused" to "extremely turned on" _that_ fucking fast, dammit.

…well, i-it's safe to say that _that _particular night became a tiresome one. _Very_ tiresome. And rough. Oh god. Couldn't walk for days.

We sure had fun, though.

…anyway…

What I'm trying to say is… I actually always had been pretty satisfied with the way Antonio and I had divided the roles. Just like France the fuckface had said: it seemed pretty natural for me to be the one getting bottomed. And no, Antonio and I also didn't have a long heart-to-heart talk about who of us would be the _attacker_ and who the receiver… it just _happened_. Just like that.

Sure, during our first time together Antonio _did_ give me a worried "is it okay if I do this and that to you Lovi" –look before he happily tore my pants from my ass, but really, that's the only piece of "conservation" he and I had about the topping-subject. Which was perfectly fine by me, because it's a freaking embarrassing subject to talk about.

But even when I was… um… n-not totally _un_happy with my role as the one on bottom, it was Antonio _himself_ who made me wonder about how it would be if I was the one topping.

I mean, the sexy noises Antonio made during sex weren't the same as mine. Yeah, well, _sure_, since I always was squirming and panting and whining really sinful things whenever we did it – not exactly something the one on top should be doing – but still! I got curious. I started to wonder what Antonio felt when he was moving inside of me. I wanted to know why he always seemed to get so much satisfaction of seeing me… p-pretty literally _getting_ satisfaction. It was fascinating, really.

So, to return to the question "what is my call right now – top or bottom"…

_**Top**_, dammit! Top top top top top _top_!

…even though I knew it probably would be a lost cause, anyway – come on, I was wrapped up in fucking _sex-ropes_, for God's sake, and everybody with at least one eye in his head could see how fucking _horny_ Antonio was…

…but still, I could always _try_, right? Right! So I was going to, dammit!

**xXx**

'Well?~'

Antonio smiled patiently at me and intertwined our fingers together, slowly moving a bit closer to me. The long sleeves from his PJ's were now covering my hands as well, but I didn't mind that, actually. It was warm inside of the sleeves, s-so that was nice. His gentle hands were holding mine carefully and _damn those fucking green eyes of his_, looking at me like s-some kind of… of lovestruck… stupid… handsome… fool…

'Yes or no, Lovi… you decide. Ah, but if you say "yes"…' Antonio let go one of my hands and placed a finger _right on_ top of a small, _extremely_ sensitive part of my chest, pressing it lightly, '…I won't let you regret it, my luscious little Lovi… ahaha…'

I noticed I got some trouble breathing normally. Yes, I was definitely panting already, and it wasn't (just) because of the ropes and stuff. Oh god, he was touching me already and he was so freakishly _hot_, oh yes, so very hot, hopefully he'd kiss me again and pinch and flick that little nub of flesh and then put his hands down my pants to— _shit, fuck, no, look away, look away!_

'N-no.' I heard myself mutter and managed to avoid his longing gaze by quickly turning my head the other way. I used my free hand to halfheartedly swat his hand away from my – by the way still fully clothed – torso.

Antonio made a surprised sound, but became silent after that. Which was disturbing, since Antonio was _never_ quiet.

It kind of freaked me out a bit, even after only a couple of seconds (shut the fuck up, I was worried about him, so _what_), so I forced myself to look his way again – after promising myself I would _not _surrender to him, not at all, no matter how sexy and warm and attractive that bastard was.

'…no?' Antonio finally said, right on the moment I looked at him again. He was staring at me in a startled kind of amazement. It seemed like he wasn't sure he if should be either very disappointed (because "_no_" meant no sex) or very pleased (because "_no" _also meant I was actually being _honest_ about something for a change) with my reaction.

'That's right, I-I said no!' I stuttered, but clumsily pulled his hands to my chest as a reassuring hint that he shouldn't take my blunt "no" as a rejection – because hell, I knew how downright _devastated_ that weird lover of mine could react if I turned him down - fucking asshole for some pervy reason _always_ assumed I wanted to have sex just as badly the fucking _minute_ we saw each other as he did.

…which was true most of the time, actually. B-but still!

'…l-look, don't make that face, dammit…' I mumbled, folding my hands over the hands on my torso, '…i-it's not that I don't _want_ you, you dramatic bastard – now wipe that pout of you face already, dammit…'

Antonio was relieved to see I held his hands like that and he smiled at me – a small, unsure, but also curious smile. He turned his hands, so that my hands could hold on to his easier. Then he, once again, moved somewhat closer to me.

'Ah, I'm sorry, I moved too fast, didn't I?' he softly said and brought a hand of mine to his face, pressing a light kiss on top of it, '…I'm so sorry. I didn't even give you a chance to say what you wanted to say. Please forgive me – ouch!'

I snorted and pulled back, ignoring the faint pain shooting through my forehead, caused by the firm head-butt I had given to the apologizing Spaniard.

'Yeah, well, it's not the end of the world, dammit, so cut it out already! Geesh, how many times do I have to say it? I'm not a porcelain doll or something…'

After hearing that, Antonio smiled a bit more dreamily. 'That's because you're already my _princess_, Lovi!~ Ahahahaha!~'

I cringed and shot a glare at him. '…I once kicked you in the balls because you called me that, remember? I'm not afraid to do it again, you know. And then I'll make sure you won't be able to reproduce – _ever._ Am I clear?'

'T-that's horrible…' Antonio shivered, '…please don't do that, I still want to get you knocked up with our lovechild one day!~'

'That's the _sickest_, most _disturbing_ thing you've ever told me.' I made a horrified face, even though I had to bit on both of my lips to prevent myself from smiling shyly at this impossible, y-yet somewhat… somewhat romantic idea of his, '…g-get away from me, you friggin' psycho.'

'Ah, I was only kidding, Lovi…' Antonio chuckled lightly, '…but really, it's too bad. You'd be such a cute mom, ahaha...'

I frowned. 'Thin ice, buddy. Very thin ice.'

'And a grumpy one, too.'

'Hey, do you hear that? That's the ice, cracking! Now shut the fuck up about… about _whatever_ you're talking about, dammit!'

The Spaniard smiled a bit more, lazily stroking one of my cheeks with the back of his hands. '…ah, alright, alright. But… hey, Lovi?'

'W-what!' I huffed and pretended I didn't like those sweet, caring touches and caresses of him at all, because it'd make me look very vulnerable, and I think, I _think_, I _really_ didn't need to look any _more_ jumpable than I already did, dammit.

Antonio took a deep breath. 'Lovi… is it safe to assume you're not mad at me anymore? Y'know, because of the whole "it's up to you to decide what we'll be doing in now and five seconds but please hurry up 'cause I'm horny~" –thing?'

…well, I was astonished, really. Just leave it to Antonio to make something so _vulgar_, so _dirty_ sound like something really cute and innocent. Damn that bastard.

He stared at me hopefully, pleadingly. He hesitated, but then moved his face closer to mine and nuzzled my cheek gently, every now and then pecking a careful kiss onto the hot, bright-red skin.

'Tell me, my love…'

I furrowed my eyebrows, but was too busy blushing my fucking face off to even _try_ to push him away.

'…s-shit, what the fuck are you talking about, y-you ass, I'm not mad at you at all.'

'Y-you're not?' He stopped showering my face with kisses and locked his eyes with mine, '…ah, that's a relief, but… w-well, call me a simpleminded man, but can you tell me… why exactly did you say "no" for, then?'

'Um.'

Oh god.

**xXx**

I gulped and turned my head away from him to stare at my fumbling hands, resting in my lap.

W-was I going to tell him I wanted to top tonight? I was going to say it, right? Oh crap, I totally was, I really was going to tell him, shit, why did that make me this freaking nervous and anxious and uncomfortable and—

Oh wait, that was because I was still tied up, of course. I almost forgot about those ropes and bindings around my body because of Antonio's stupid blabbering, dammit. That reminded me: how was I supposed to get out of this mixed-up mess of bondage-shit? W-without risking any topping-chances?

'I get it now…' Antonio suddenly said and quickly backed off after observing my trembling figure for a while, giving me a thin smile, '…ah, I'm sorry, I must have misinterpreted something. Y-you see, I-I thought you would want to make love with me after returning from Germany, and... and that your tangled body was some sort of kinky present for me, but I see I was wrong and I'll… I'll go clean up the house now, just wait a minu—'

Whoa, whoa! I looked up at him with a jolt. W-what? No, no!

'S-stay here, you fucking idiot!' I snarled, grabbing the seam of his nightgown-thing, '…I-I never said I didn't _want_ to, dammit!'

Things were going a bit too fast for the Spaniard, because he gaped at me like I just asked him to tell me more about his fucked-up economical status and I just _knew_ he didn't know _shit_ about that.

'I'm confused, Lovino… so… does this mean that you _do _want to have sex with me?'

'G-go to hell.' I muttered, but nodded. I may or may not have blushed while I did so.

'Ah…' He flushed a bit and immediately got rid of this unpractical thing called "distance" by shoving his body almost totally against mine, his bare legs wrapping themselves around my awkward sitting-figure, his warm skin softly pressing against my own legs, '…I love you very much, but ah, I wish I knew what exactly you want from me, my lovely Lovi…'

He probably wanted to sound serious, but with that joyful "so I WILL eventually have sex tonight!~" –smile, those big, gentle hands holding mine and that giant blush on his face, he wasn't convincing me of his seriousness at all. B-but he did look very…

…v-very charming, yes. A-and smitten.

It made me blush even _more_ when I saw this tender expression. It's… It's just… h-he still looked absolutely smitten with me, he still… he still thought… he still thought I was the greatest thing in the world, w-wasn't he?... Damn that… bastard…

'What do you want, Lovino?' He tugged on my hands to pull me closer and his lips almost touched mine as he cocked his head to the side, '...ah, it must be very important for you to tell me, right…'

T…

_Too close too close too close! Don't let him catch you off guard, Lovino! Pay attention! Focus your eyes on your surroundings! Be one step ahead of that Spanish moron!_

…

…_and for God's sake, stop staring at his legs already, you fucking perv. Damn._

I swallowed and automatically leaned back a bit when he leaned forward.

'I'll… I'll tell you what I want, Spai—'

I felt my breath hitch in my throat when he instantly cut me off with a firm kiss.

'Antonio,' he whispered hoarsely against my lips, his voice insistent as he bore his freaking _soul-stabbing _eyes into mine, '…don't call me Spain when we're like this, Lovino… call me by my _name_. My _human _name.'

'A-alright…A-Antonio…' I muttered, and couldn't repress a dazed—n-no, _relieved_ sigh when he pulled away from me.

…but mind you, he only backed off a little bit. It was still Antonio, after all. Hadn't heard of the term "personal space" _whatsoever_.

'So?' he asked, smiling patiently.

I nodded and drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly after that.

'Antonio. B-before we're going to fuc—'

'No no no, it's "make _love_"_, _Lovi.'

'…yeah, whatever floats your boat, bastard.'

He pouted. 'You shouldn't call our lovemaking _fucking_, Lovi… that's not romantic at all...'

My face felt hot and I tried to ignore the building feeling of arousal inside of me. 'S-shut up.'

No, I _didn't_ get turned on by Antonio saying the F-word, dammit! Not in the least! Leave me alone!

'A-anyway…' I quickly continued, before Antonio could see something growing I _really_ didn't want him to be seeing growing, '…before we're going to do it, I just want to let you know that I want to… I want to…'

My voice started to shake. Oh crap. Oh crap.

'Lovino?' Antonio frowned.

_Say it. Come on, say it! Say "I want to top"! Don't you fucking dare to bail out now, Lovino! _

'You can tell me.' He rubbed his thumb over the back of one of my hands reassuring, '…you want to do _what_, Lovino?'

_Yeah, you want to do __**what**__, Lovino?_

'I…'

'Yes?'

'I… I want to t… to t…'

'T…?' Antonio nodded encouraging.

'I… want to… t-t-t-to— _**talk **_to you!'

…

What?

WHAT?

I WANTED TO DO WHAT?

TALK? _TALK?_

GODDAMMIT! THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANTED TO DO AT ALL!

**xXx**

…but I guess I couldn't change what I had said, could I? Right.

So after I had - _loudy_ - cursed myself over and over again, not paying attention to the hopelessly and utterly confused Spaniard in front of me, I finally decided to give myself a break and quit the shouting and swearing.

Well, that wasn't totally true – Antonio had to hug me tightly for a while before I finally calmed down a bit, still panting and wheezing and gasping like I was about to choke in my own words. I even felt something wet running down my cheeks and _the fuck_, was I _crying_? Holy shit. I wanted to touch my face, but Antonio's hands were faster, pushing down some of the ropes and ribbons around my chest to give me a better access to _fucking air_ – how pathetic was I, dammit! – before wiping away some of my tears.

'It's okay, it's okay…' he softly said, kissing the tip of my nose, '…we can talk, we can talk about anything you want, Lovi, but please, calm down, my love… and let's get you out of these ropes, okay?'

I bit the front of his PJ's in frustration, squeezing my eyes shut as even more tears started to drip off my face, but complied. I trembled when I felt Antonio's hands on my body, those wonderful hands setting my skin on fire with every light touch of those long fingers, as the unknowing Spanish nation continued taking away the bindings carefully.

So close.

I had been _so fucking_ close.

Dammit.

**xXx**

'So, what do you want to talk about, Lovi?'

Antonio smiled. Right after he had released me from Germany's sex-stuff, he had pulled me on top of his lap so that we were facing each other. He was slowly running a hand through my hair now and skillfully avoided the bouncy curl.

I didn't mind it at all, to be perfectly honest. Hell, I was just glad there weren't any annoying ropes squeezing my limbs together anymore and Antonio's lap was a comfortable and very welcome alternative to the stiff, red couch.

Not that he would ever know that.

I sighed, still tired from the ridiculous tantrum I had thrown. I closed my eyes again when Antonio gently massaged my scalp. Oh, it felt good, it felt very good…

'…I guess I want to talk about _you_, Antonio.' I heard myself mumble.

If my eyes had been open, I'd surely seen him getting flustered.

'Y-you want to talk about me?'

'Yeah. Yeah, why not.' I shrugged, '…so, how have you been, huh? Still sick?'

Antonio laughed. '…ah, I guess so?'

'I don't believe you. You're not sounding sick at all anymore. Stop pretending already, dammit.' I snorted.

'I'm not pretending.'

'Yes, you are.'

'Lovi, I have a fever.'

'Big deal.'

'Lovino…' He heaved a sigh, but chuckled. '…ah, you don't have to believe me, my love, since it's true that I _am_ feeling better, indeed. That's good, right? I'm glad I don't feel tired all the time anymore…'

I opened my eyes and gave him a small, hesitating smile. 'Well, it's good you're getting better – I don't like it when you're a coughing and panting mess instead of a stupid, naïve nation.'

Antonio nodded. 'Ah, I think so too, my lovely Lovi.'

The hands on my waist started to wander off to my lower back and I held in my breath when he splayed his hands, slowly pushing me closer to him.

He was up to something. Oh _crap_. Oh _shit_.

I froze on the spot when I felt he was trying to tug my jacket and shirt (t-two pieces of my tux at once, d-dammit) upwards a bit, but I still somehow managed to grab the sides of his face to keep it from coming any closer to me.

It had to be because of the annoying voices in the back of my head, screaming and shouting (disturbingly _obvious_) things at me – something like: _"you wussy batty boy, just give it up already, he's soooo going to __**get**__ you!~"_ – and fuck, I'd be _damned_ if those voices weren't shockingly close to the voices of France and Prussia.

Oh _god_. Well, this certainly proved I needed to hang out with other people more often. Fucking France and German _creeps_.

I shivered and tried to shoo away the horrible images of a chanting France and Prussia inside of my brain, playing _the fucking Wheel of Fortune_ with the last shreds of manliness I had in me…

...shut the hell up, I'm sure I had to have _some_ of it, dammit!

**xXx**

'…by the way, Lovi… did you like it?~' Antonio suddenly asked me, not bothered by my trembling hands at all, and gave me an excited smile.

'Did I like what?'

I tried to give him a very pissed-off look, but failed miserably because… well, I just really didn't feel like it. I think I was too tired of acting like a total freaking _spazz_ to actively use my death-glare skills. That cost me a fucking shitload of energy.

…

…a-and besides, the bright, hopeful smile on the Spaniard's face happened to be one of my favorite Antonio-smiles. And yes, that was one of the many secrets I'd be taking with me in my grave.

Antonio chuckled and took one of his hands from my back, only to put it over one of my own hands on his face. I felt his cheeks were getting warmer again.

'Ah, I just wondered if you like the way the House looks, Lovi,' he said, simply plucking one hand off his face, '…I thought I'd be nice if I decorated the place a bit before you'd come back from Gilbert!'

I raised a brow. 'Oh, so _that's_ why this place looks like France's bedroom.'

'Well, I _did_ ask him to help me with it...' Antonio smiled, but got a little bit nervous when that same brow of me started to twitch dangerously, '…b-but really, Lovi, only the rose petals were his idea.'

'You don't fucking say.'

'It's true!'

I believed him.

So my anger – that actually hadn't been very serious to begin with anyway – faded away quickly and made room for bashful fidgeting. Something I happened to be very good at.

'So… the rest of the House… you know, the candlelights and the cheesy music and shit… that was your own doing?'

He nodded and pressed his forehead to mine, not meeting any resistance from the hand that was still holding his face. 'Ah, and don't forget to mention the romantic ambiance, my love – I did that, too!~'

'I-I didn't forget to mention that…' I softly said.

'Hm?' He blinked, '…what was that, Lovi?'

His confused face told me he had meant that remark as a joke, but I actually was... v-very serious about it.

'I didn't… _forget_ to mention the romantic ambiance…' I carefully moved my fingers up and down his cheek, avoiding his questioning eyes, '…it's just… it gets fucking boring to mention you created a nice atmosphere every single time, you see… e-especially because…'

I finally looked at him and smiled shyly. '…especially because it's _always_ nice t-to be around you, Antonio…'

Seconds later, a Spanish jaw hit the floor.

**xXx**

I knew Antonio stared at me all the time. Hell, it's not like he was trying to hide it, he even was painfully _straightforward_ about it – I mean, pretty much _everybody_ knew the bastard passionately ogled me to his heart's content. So seeing him stare at me wasn't something new or rare for me.

But the _way _he was staring at me absolutely _was_.

Because... because I rarely saw Antonio stare at me in the way he was doing right now.

His eyes were shining brighter and more blissfully than ever and he smiled a big, broad and somewhat unsure smile at me, a smile that almost made him close his beautiful green eyes completely, but just not quite yet. It was like his whole being just… just lit up, like… s-shit, I don't know, like the fucking s-summery sun after it had been blocked by some stupid clouds for a certain amount of time or something corny like that…

…i-it's needless to say that t-this particular smile actually was my most favorite Antonio-smile, because it was the rarest one, the one he seldom showed to others – but me.

It was the smile he only smiled whenever I treated him with the love and respect he deserved so much, whenever I reminded him as clearly as I could to the undeniable fact that I loved him and wanted to be with him.

And yes, I _knew_ I should say sweet things to Antonio more often, I _knew_ I shouldn't be ashamed to show him my friendlier side, b-but hey, that's that annoying thing called _personality_ for you.

'L-Lovino…' Antonio muttered with a delighted sigh and suddenly pulled me against him in one smooth, impulsive movement, his lips lightly brushing mine again, '…ah, that's so nice of you to say, so wonderful, so _sweet _of you to say, Lovi…'

'S-shut up…' I flushed, but didn't look away from him.

He smiled fondly and gave me a squeeze. 'Ah, I love you, Lovi…'

'T-that's… that's nice… I…' I gnawed my lower lip.

He knew what was coming and nodded patiently, rubbing circles on my back.

'I love you too, d-dammit.'

'I know you do, my lovely Lovi.'

I noticed my eyes already were half-lidded as I let the both of my hands intertwine with each other just behind Antonio's head, using them to softly push his face closer to mine until I felt those sweet, familiar lips press onto mine more firmly, more insistently.

Antonio made a very happy squealing noise and took this opportunity to slip his hands underneath my shirt, immediately trying to deepen the kiss.

Then I just as suddenly broke the kiss off again, breathing in and out raggedly as I gazed at Antonio.

'…y-you're way too eager, you know that?'

'Ah, I'm not sure if you should call it "eager", Lovino…' Antonio, sounding a little bit annoyed because of the interrupted kiss, grabbed my chin and turned it away from me so he could give a long, teasing lick to my uncomfortable red cheek, '…I think it's a very cautious way of describing the term "having an unreasonable desire for sex", you know?'

His eyes were practically burning when he looked at me again and I could only nod a bit, faintly wondering if I was still going to fight for the top-position.

'So…' Antonio smirked and started to unbutton my jacket, his eyes never losing contact with mine, '…is it okay if I fuck you, Lovi?'

I gasped, eyes spread open wide. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

'Y-you…' I mumbled, pulling up his nightgown with shaky, sweaty hands.

'Oh yes, I know you like to hear that…' He smiled and calmly waited until I had taken off his stupid PJ's before pushing me to the seat of the couch, '…I love you so much, Lovi… so I'll be glad to do and say whatever you want me to, my love…'

'T-then…'

Well, reality struck me once again.

I sighed and almost desperately reached out my arms to him. '…j-just get down here already, d-dammit…'

I wasn't going to top tonight.

He smiled, a light flush on his face as he lowered himself towards me, letting me wrap my arms around him.

'Ah, aren't you just the cutest lover someone like me could ever wish for…' he whispered.

Yeah. Yeah, I was.

And probably the most _pathetic_ one too. Fucking shit. Here I was, about to get topped again, just as usual…

...

…w-well... m-might as well enjoy it, r-right…


	11. Bum

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Some of you were a bit disappointed that Lovi didn't get to realize his bondage-fantasy – and truthfully, you had all rights to be disappointed. But I couldn't fit the bondage into the chapter anymore, so I decided to throw it out… ah, but I did write something bondage-ish in this chapter in order to give Lovino the pleasure of a kink-fantasy coming true – well, at least somewhat. _*frowns*_ Yay! Hopefully, this'll please you, kind readers. Oh yes, I certainly hope so. _^^

_A/n2: Next week, it's Sinterklaas in the Netherlands on December 5__th __and 6__th__. It's a very popular, traditional celebration in my country, kind of like the Dutch variant of Santa Claus, but different. Just check Wikipedia if you want to find out more about him. __**The days before and right after Sinterklaas, I'll be too busy with buying/receiving presents and celebrating with friends to be able to upload next week – so I'm afraid you'll have to wait a week longer for the next chapter. **_

_You understand, right? _^^;;;;

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XI:

_**Lonely Swedish – The Bum Bum Song  
**__**(Tom Green)**_

Call me old-fashioned, traditional or just a very stubborn, crabby, yet _smokin' hot_ Italian, but I… I really wanted to get married someday.

I didn't even exactly know why. Maybe it was because of my religious background. Maybe it was because of the atmosphere inside most churches – static, yet beautiful, modest, yet overwhelming, stern, yet accepting. Maybe it was because I was such a romantic person. Or maybe it was because of the cloths you got to wear when getting married.

You know…the groom would be looking very handsome and sexy and hot and the bride would be really breathtaking, with gorgeous dresses and flowers in her hair… romance almost pouring out of the fucking walls… being surrounded by friends and family… being together…

Yeah…

I wondered if it would be any different with same-sex marriages.

Sure, instead of one groom and one bride, there would be two grooms or two brides, and instead of hearing the priest say "you may kiss the bride now", he would probably say something like "you may kiss the other guy now", but… what else would be different about it? Would that be the only thing?

And… and… w-well, just how would_ I_ like to see it happen? A marriage between a guy and _another_ guy, I mean?

N-not that I was thinking of something unrealistic like… like my and Antonio's future wedding. Hell no. Of course not. I sure as hell wasn't worrying myself with stupid, embarrassing things like "oooh, what would I wear~" or "I'll kill the Spanish bastard if the ring has a tomato on it", or "no way that asshole is asking Prussia and France as his best men, no fucking way" …

…b-but like I said, I wasn't thinking about that kind of shit at all.

…

…o-okay.

Let's… let's say I… _sometimes_ liked to think about how the wedding of me and Antonio would look like, just in case one of us one day actually gathered enough courage to propose. But I only sometimes thought about it! Really! I hadn't thought this not-realistic wedding through like a _girl _would do, dammit, so shut the fuck up!

…alright, so the wedding would take place in a nice little chapel in Madrid, the one with the white bricks and the friendly priest Antonio and I had met last year. Also, there would be a shitload of flowers. Daisies and carnations. All of them either white or red or green or yellow. Y-you know, because I wanted the flowers to represent our flags. T-there's nothing weird about that!

And…

…and Antonio would be wearing white, since it suited him. Black also suited him, of course (hell, _everything_ suited the stylish motherfucker), but if _I_ would be stupid enough to wear white, everybody would be snickering and poking each other and saying stuff like "Ohh, looks like Roma's the bride!~" and then I'd have to kill some people/nations (coughFranceandPrussiacough) and I really didn't want to do that on my wedding day, I would be smudging my nice suit, dammit, so that's why _I _would be wearing black!

S-so… then, when I would walk down the aisle (no no, NOT because I would be the bride, dammit, b-but because I'd want to see Antonio stare at me all lovingly and "_God, you're so beautiful, I love you so much, Lovi~_" –like and that would make me feel pretty damn sexy and wanted and special and that's _good_), I'd make sure to look absolutely _perfect_. You know – I'd have the perfect suit, the perfect haircut, the perfect make-u – _accessories_, dammit, and, of course, the perfect…

…the perfect… a-and most handsome…

…h-husband, I… I guess…

S-see? See?

I hadn't thought it through at all, see? I-I told you so! Only some rough sketches in the back of my mind, that's all!

…and maybe I also had some nice drawings of our future wedding in the secret sketchbook I kept in Antonio's study. M-_maybe_, dammit, so that doesn't mean I actually _had_!

…

Yes. Me and Antonio's future wedding. That was the current subject of my inner thoughts the morning after the rope-fiasco. Pretty embarrassing, right?

Well, fuck you.

At least it was ten times better than the agonizing thought about what had happened yesterday-night.

**xXx**

So we had sex last night.

…t-two times.

The first time, we did it downstairs, on the red couch – which was _unbelievable_ uncomfortable. Antonio and I could barely move and _if _we moved, there was this _ungodly_ noise coming out of my mouth that not only made Antonio groan in lusty pleasure, but it also made him _very_ determined to keep… m-moving in and out fucking slowly like that, just to hear me gasp and whimper for more.

…y-yeah…

A-anyway, the second round was more of an incident – it wasn't really _planned _or anything, it just happened to… happen.

We were still lying on the couch, still recovering our breaths from the first… sexual activity, when I told Antonio that I was tired and that he should carry me to bed, since I was having too much ass-pains to walk or stand up at that point. Naturally, Antonio complied and was very sweet to me when he brought me to the bedroom, kissing me, caressing me, holding and hugging me... nothing wrong with all of that, actually, s-since I actually liked all of that a lot and even kept on muttering how much I kind of loved him and s-shit like that…

…but after we had reached the bedroom, Antonio suddenly (and very _unexpectedly_) asked me why I had brought so many kinky bondage-stuff with me from my visit to Prussia and why I had tied myself up so very _sexily_ while he had been busy catching some z's, _right on the friggin' couch next to me_.

And I didn't really know why – maybe it was because I was trying to act flirty again – but I _foolishly_ told him that light-bondage turned me on like there's no tomorrow.

And then he started to shake and bite his lips and pant and mutter something like "unf, oh my _god_, Lovi" before he threw me on the bed, jumped right on top of me and made me see flickering stars and moons and maybe even a couple of suns as we, once again, had _disgustingly hot_ sex.

…and once again, without ropes.

I guess that even only the _thought_ of me, restrained and flushed and extremely turned on because of some cords (nicely wrapped around my needy, sweaty, shivering body), was enough to make Antonio horny as hell.

So…

…s-so I wasn't surprised when he told me/breathed hotly in my ear that he didn't really _wanted_ to use any bondage on me if I wasn't okay with it...

B-but…

I-I _was_ okay with it…

...and I actually _told_ him I was…

…and so… and…

…w-well, let's just say that there was a _reason_ why long strips of hastily torn-apart, white, linen fabric were bound around my wrists when I woke up the morning after.

…

No! I-I won't tell the reason, dammit! I won't tell, I won't I won't I _won't_, so shut up!

…

He used the sheets to tie me to the bed halfway through sex.

…

GODDAMMIT.

**xXx**

After thinking about the sex I had last night and thinking about me and Antonio's wedding (that was probably never going to happen anyway), I finally decided to open my eyes.

_Ouch_.

Fuck. I sighed when I felt a familiar pain somewhere down my waist and scowled, digging my nails in the softness that was my thigh.

_Well, feels like __**somebody**__ got topped last night, isn't that right, Lovino_?~

Ugh.

I tried to ignore my own half-hearted disappointment in failing _yet again_ to top Antonio (and so _willingly_, I had failed _so _fucking_ willingly!_) and decided to focus my attention on the white pieces of sheet around my wrists instead, s-since that bastard never had taken the time to _fully_ untie me after the… _happenings_ from last night.

…sure, at least he had been kind enough to untie me from the headboard before falling asleep on top (where else?) of me, but still, the skin just below the palms of my hands _hurt_, dammit!

'S-stupid asshole…' I mumbled quietly, careful to not wake the sleeping nation next to me, and impatiently pulled on the tight knots of the strips around my wrists, gritting my teeth in annoyance when I figured I simply didn't have the strength this early in the morning to untie myself.

Oh, well, wasn't that just _great_. I groaned, stared at my hands and was about to wonder what I would try next, when suddenly two tanned hands grabbed one of mine.

'Ah, let me help you with that, Lovi…'

I breathed in slowly when the hands just as slowly took my hand away, pulled my hand to a dark, naked chest, and made my hand rest against it.

I hesitated, but then cautiously rolled on my side, glaring at the sleepy Spaniard next to me.

'S-so. You're already awake.' I remarked.

'So are you, aren't you?' Antonio smiled and started to untie my wrist without looking away from me.

I blushed, but didn't say anything back because I didn't really know what to say. I blamed his eyes for that, though. Damn those stupid eyes. I hated his fucking eyes. They were just… just way too pretty, dammit… I doubted there were eyes more beautiful than his, really.

'You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, you know that?' Antonio all of a sudden said, softly pulling the long strip of sheet from my wrists and giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

Oh?

**xXx**

'What?' I frowned and narrowed my eyes instinctively, '…wh-what the hell are you talking about?'

'Your eyes, Lovino.' He laughed when he saw the utterly confused look on my face and began untying my other wrist just as well, '…they're very beautiful, very pretty.'

'You've got to be fucking kidding me. There's nothing special about my eyes, you idiot. They're… hell, they're not brown, they're not green… they're just…plain _boring_.' I muttered, evading his passionate eyes.

Antonio put a warm hand on the side of my face and let his thumb touch and linger on my chin, lips and cheek for a while, before turning my head back to him again.

I huffed and deepened my frown, but couldn't help but blush a bit more intensively when I noticed he had moved closer to me, his nose almost touching mine as he stared into my eyes.

'_Your_ eyes, boring?' He chuckled and placed a hand on the back of my head, '…silly Lovi… hey, did you know I still haven't figured out just _what_ color of eyes you have? I just haven't. There are too many colors in there for me to count, my love… Ah, don't you get it? I wish you would hurry up and realize just how beautiful you and your so-called "plain" eyes are…'

I cringed a bit. '…f-fuck, Antonio. Do you really _have_ to call me _beautiful_? Shit, at least call me "handsome" or "hot" or "temperamental", but don't call me _beautiful_ like I'm some kind of girl! B-besides…'

'Besides what?' Antonio asked, before a q-quite muscular, yet smooth arm carefully wrapped itself around my frame to pull me into a tight hug as his other hand continued to stroke the back of my head.

I felt my bottom-lip started to twist a bit and growled softly, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

'…b-besides… I'm not even _that _fucking beautiful.'

The Spaniard was quiet for a moment, before he let out a soft, amused sigh. 'Ah… going on the angsty tour again, aren't you?~'

I looked up from his neck to glare at him, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 'D-don't call it that, y-you moron! Shit, I can't help it, it's not like having a… a… l-l-lover like you… makes me more confident about… myself…'

'Yep, that's definitely the angsty tour.'

'J-just… just shut the fuck up!'

'Ah, I can't, Lovi…'

Antonio smiled and suddenly made me roll over so I was lying on my back again – but now with a hot, butt-naked Spanish idiot leaning over me, his hands placed next to either side of my face as he bent over, moved closer to me, never losing that loving smile of his.

I swallowed softly when one of his hands caressed my blushing face, b-but like _hell _I was going to say something sappy like "_kiss me already d-dammit~~~_" or crap like that…

…n-no, I really wasn't, dammit!

...

...n-not right away, that is...

'Oh Lovino. Telling me to shut up while you're giving yourself a hard time again… ah, you know that's impossible for me to do…' The Spanish nation pressed a kiss on my cheek, his fingers still drawing small, heart-like (what the fuck?) patrons on my face.

'Sh-shutting up isn't impossible _at all_, d-dammit, not even for an idiot like you…' I weakly snapped at him with a faltering voice, before I closed my eyes and leaned my face up – j-just a bit, just a little bit – to press my lips against his for a second or two. Antonio was pleasantly surprised by this small gesture of affection and blushed, I felt he did, just like I felt he immediately kissed me back.

Antonio liked it, me taking initiative. He really liked it. He also liked it if I made dinner out of the blue (shut up, it happened every now and then) and he liked it even _more_ when I actually cooked Spanish food for us, since I most of the time only cooked Italian dishes and refrained myself from other kinds of dishes.

Why? Well, because the Italian kitchen kicked too much _massive ass_ to be put aside by lame dishes from Spain, France, America or other lousy countries that weren't Italian.

Hm? It's true! Just go ask my brother if you don't believe me!

**xXx**

So anyway…

After making out for another good five minutes (and nearly choking into Antonio's way too enthusiastic _smooch of love and death_), I decided it was time to breathe again and put my hands on Antonio's shoulders to push him up, away from my face.

I could actually _feel_ a long, gross string of saliva was taken out of my mouth by his tongue the second Antonio pulled away. He ignored the long trail of spit between us and didn't even bother to wipe our faces clean as he rested his weight on my body a bit more, giving me a light peck on the lips.

'…are you feeling better already, my love?~'

'M-maybe…' I stammered, flushing and furiously shoving my hands into his face to w-wipe away th-that annoying spit-string, '…b-but not thanks to you!'

'Of course not.' Antonio chuckled and somehow managed to kiss my rubbing hands, making them freeze instantly. T-that bastard, d-dammit… I quickly pulled my temporarily paralyzed hands back and pressed them on my face, partly because I wanted to prevent it from _exploding_ due to an impressive overload of… of… shit, I don't know, facial-blood or something, I suppose…

…b-but mostly because I wanted to hide th-that fucking shy _smile_ on my lips, goddammit…

…what! D-don't give me that look! S-smiling like a lovesick bastard was a token of weakness, alright! I-I couldn't let him think I was _weak_, could I?

_Yes, you could. And you know._

…

D-dammit, dammit…

**xXx**

When I finally felt brave enough to look up again, I was greeted with Antonio's bright eyes, staring at me in silent admiration as he ran a hand through my hair lazily. Then he all of a sudden opened his mouth, as if he had waited for me to look at him before saying something.

'I love these two days of the week the most of all, you know?'

His green orbs were big and beautiful, just like his smile, and I couldn't help but blush and stare at him. I almost didn't see my own hands slowly disappear behind his head. Almost.

'W-what do you mean? What two days? And what's so special about them?'

Antonio blinked and looked up to the ceiling for a moment, before his smile widened even more, maybe because I was carefully winding some of his bouncy curls around my fingers – i-it just felt really nice, okay! D-damn him and his stupid… soft hair…

'Ah, you don't know?' He laughed quietly, '…it's Saturday, Lovino! Weekend! Time to take a break from our hectic life as countries – well, not _really _take a break, but still, ahahaha – and stay in bed all day long!~'

I involuntarily frowned a bit.

Saturday, huh? Wasn't there something I had planned for today? Something important? I had, hadn't I? Crap, why couldn't I remember?

'Lovino…'

I shuddered when I heard the hoarse tone of his voice.

Oh, _that's _why.

Antonio's hot lips were suddenly all over my throat, kissing me while teeth nipped at the sensitive skin. His perverted hands were sliding downwards, over the slight curves of my trembling body. I gasped, but restrained a moan when I felt he slowly, very, _very_ slowly clamped his hands on both my ass-cheeks and _squeezed_.

…

W-well.

Thinking about what I had to do today was all of a sudden not important anymore, not at all, not when a greedy Spaniard was feeling me up like this.

'Ah, Lovi…' He began to suck on the skin right below my ear, only pausing to whisper my name and sweet nothings to me over and over again.

'Lovi… ah, Lovi, my lovely Lovi… how wonderful you feel, my love…'

Oh god oh god those lips those licks that tongue _oh fuck_.

I whimpered and cramped up a bit. I had to force myself to keep on breathing, in and out, in and out, because… because shouldn't I be used to this already, shouldn't I know already just… just _how_ that bastard made me feel, and shouldn't I do something, do something kinky and sexy to provoke some kind of reaction, a very surprised reaction out of him…

I-I could always try, right?

O-okay then.

'M-mouth…' I muttered softly, tugging on his hair a bit, '…mouth, d-dammit, mouth…'

Antonio pulled away from the side of my face to give me a curious look, smiling mildly. 'What's that, Lovi? Something wrong?'

'N-no, dammit, it's just… it's just…' I sighed shakily, trying to ignore the playful hands on my behind, '…d-don't kiss me there, d-dammit… I don't want you to kiss me there…'

'R-right…' Antonio nodded hastily, an embarrassed blush spreading across his face, '…a-ah… sorry, I thought you liked it when I kissed you somewhere close to your ears… is… is there somewhere else I can kiss you, Lovi? 'Cause I really want to kiss you, I really, really want to kiss you very badly, no matter where or what… just tell me where…'

I pressed my lips together to prevent a giddy smile from showing up and placed my unsure hands on the sides of his s-stupid face in order to cup it and bring it closer to mine, quickly and somewhat teasingly rubbing my nose against his as I did so.

'M-mouth... m-my mouth… k-kiss me on my mouth, d-dammit…'

I even managed to steal a firm kiss from him.

Antonio just stared at me after I drew back again, his blush increasing in intensity rapidly. Then he chuckled a bit – obviously heavily charmed by my rather shameless kiss – and nodded again, this time without taking his eyes away from mine.

'I… I'd be happy to kiss you there, Lovi…'

'G-good.' I mumbled, and would have folded my arms if I could, but I couldn't, so I didn't.

Antonio smiled, happily and very excitedly, before he smeared our lips together again for another kiss and hugged me tighter.

And I let him.

I _delightedly_ let him.

**xXx**

Soon, it became very clear to me that Antonio wanted to go… hum… all the way.

Wasn't _that_ difficult to figure out, really: his hands kneading my ass, his kisses becoming more and more sloppy and passionately by the minute and his very lively _churro_ impatiently pressing against my leg were a dead giveaway of his obvious arousal.

But I didn't mind it, really… I guess my mind had also gone really hazy and horny in a matter of mere seconds, s-so I think I very much appreciated Antonio's wavering hands and grinding hips, I… I very much liked it, yes, I liked it enough to forget about my still somewhat painful butt and I wasn't even resisting him in the least when Antonio sneaked his hand underneath one of my thighs and hoisted it up slightly.

…h-hell, I even helped him with that by grabbing my thigh _myself_ to jerk it up some more. It probably was quite a sight, since Antonio moaned softly when he saw me doing that, before giving me a possessive, deep kiss.

'Is it okay?' he panted right after breaking the short, yet hot kiss, breathing against my lips hopefully, '…I-I know we did it twice yesterday and I know you're probably still in pain, but god, Lovi, you're just so irresistible, you turn me on so much…'

'Okay,' I heard myself answer – a bit too quickly and too eagerly to my liking, '…o-okay, go ahead, b-but hurt me and… and I'll kill you, d-dammit…'

'I won't hurt you… ah, I promise I'll make it as pleasantly as possible for you, my love…'

'…t-then it's fine…'

Antonio smiled and slipped some of his fingers into his mouth to make them slick and smooth, smirking at me with shining eyes when he saw me looking at him (with probably the most nasty and dirty facial expression I had ever shown to him), as I also raised my other leg up in the air, giving him even more permission to do to me whatever the hell he wanted to do to me…

…when suddenly the annoying, irritating and _momentarily_ _very much unwanted and hated _ringtone of my phone shot _right_ through the sultry atmosphere.

**xXx**

Well, fuck.

Of all the times I had been called, this had to be the most inconvenient phone call of all.

Sure, I had been called during meetings, siestas and during other not really important activities multiple times already, but getting a phone call when you were _just_ about to have sex with your hot boyfriend… t-that was just cruel, very, very cruel, especially when your boyfriend was a ditzy idiot with a ridiculous short span of attention.

Like mine.

'Isn't that your phone?' Antonio said, voice indeed all normal and happy and regular again as he curiously looked around him, one of his hand still closed around my thigh while the other one was absentmindedly wiped clean to the sheets, '…ahahaha, oh Lovi, I didn't know you liked Mika!~'

And then I certainly knew the ambiance was effectively ruined.

I flushed, groaned and kicked his good-for-nothing hand away from my thigh, feeling a bit better when I heard Antonio shriek in surprise.

'Ouch! Lovino, that hurt!'

'Well, I'm sorry I didn't make it "_as pleasantly as possible_" for you, you oblivious asshole.'

He frowned, holding his hand. 'That sounds awfully familiar…'

'Ugh, never mind…'

I sighed, disappointed, but then straightened myself up, wrapping some sheets around me as I slid off the bed and looked around on the ground.

Where was it, where was that _evil sunnuvabitch telephone, _I wanted to find it ASAP so that I could _destroy it_ in all peace, dammit, dammit, just when it was about to get really good, too, fucking shit damn –

Oh, there it was.

It was lying on a pile of neatly folded clothes (_my _clothes, naturally – seems like Antonio had had the decency to take my clothes with us when he brought me upstairs yesterday) and it kept playing that embarrassing song about fucking lollipops over and over again until I snatched it from the pile and seriously considered to smash it against the wall.

But in the end my curiosity and natural hatred for smashing things that were mine won it from my rage and I growled, staring at the screen of my phone (unknown caller… hm…) for a bit, before answering it.

'Who the fuck is it, dammit!'

Antonio, who was stretching himself for some reason, turned to me to give me a disapproving glance. 'Language, Lovi.'

'I wasn't talking to you…' I narrowed my eyes as I glared at the Spaniard, '…_Spain_.'

'Ouch.' Antonio smiled weakly, '…ah, calling me Spain again... that actually hurts me more than your kick did, Lovino…'

I wanted to say something mean to him, when I suddenly heard an annoyed sigh and the clear sound of a clicking lighter on the other side of the line.

'_Shit, Romano. Were you actually busy fucking that bastard Spain? I feel sorry for you.'_

The voice inhaled deeply – was he smoking? I felt my blood run cold and automatically turned my back to Antonio, pulling up the sheets around my waist a bit more.

Oh god. Now I remembered.

I had another appointment today. With the Netherlands – one of the few countries Antonio absolutely, truly, whole-heartedly _despised_.

And I hadn't told Antonio yet about my plan of going to the Netherlands today.

…

Oh _shit_.


	12. Moon

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Hi! I'm back again! Well, Sinterklaas was just great! Ah, I've received lots and lots of wonderful presents! I had such a great time with my friends and family… but don't worry, I never forgot about my fic! How could I? It's too much fun to write! _^^ _So prepare yourself for the longest chapter I have ever written… oooh, it's so very long… I'm so sorry for putting you up with these walls of text… _OTL

_A/n2: This chapter doesn't end very fluffy… _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XII:

_**Pink Moon  
**__**(Nick Drake)**_

I wasn't afraid of Antonio. Not at all. Hell no.

I knew he had been a crazy, fucked-up creep in the past. I knew he had hurt lots and lots of countries back then and I even knew he probably had killed many people, maybe even complete _civilizations _in his younger days.

Yes, Antonio… Antonio had been a dangerous, scary country. I mean, a couple of centuries ago, you _really_ didn't want to stand in the way of the Great Spanish Empire, 'cause he would _break you down_. _**Mercilessly**_.

And I could tell, since I was the one who always observed him as a child, as a teenager and even now, as a grown-up nation. Or… half of a nation, the hell I know what I was…

However, even though I knew how cruel Antonio could be… I _never, ever _had been scared he would hurt me.

Because, as a child, I had slowly become aware of the fact that he treated me different than he treated his other colonies. Sure, he might have wanted to exchange me with Feliciano in the beginning to Austria, but after all that, he gradually started to like me more and more, treated me like a son/little brother while he was still acting like a mean asshole to… well, the Netherlands, for example, and a lot of South American countries. He seemed to like Belgium too. I think the two of us were his favorite (European) colonies.

The Netherlands wasn't a favorite colony of his, and the hate was very mutual. Yet the three of us (me, Belgium and the Netherlands) were the ones that were around Antonio most of the time – maybe because we were all European? I don't know for sure, but I think that could be a good reason…

Anyways…

When his worldwide empire collapsed and his financial status (again that fucking useless economy of his, dammit) got worse, Antonio became more mellow – it's not like he had a choice, he _had_ to become more mellow and careful since he was as weak as a fucking paper bag after all those wars and fights with other nations.

But it was a good thing, because Antonio's personality actually _improved _thanks to his hardships.

Don't get me wrong, though – it wasn't like Antonio never had been friendly before – I had always known that he also had a very nice, caring and innocent side. He just rarely showed it to nations/people other than me, Belgium and/or his perverted friends, back then. He didn't trust many people, he was too afraid of losing the respect of others to show his lighter, sweeter, kinder side.

But when he was struggling to save his country and trying to keep his head above water, Antonio – strangely enough – got more optimistic. He probably must have realized he hadn't got anything to lose _now_, so why not try to be a _nice guy_ for a change? That suited him better anyway!

And so he did.

He became a very nice, friendly, naïve and happy-go-lucky, yet sometimes surprisingly frail nation that was accepted by the rest of the world pretty damn quickly – I guess most nations were just glad he had finally stopped interfering with their lives.

In the meantime, I had grown up, decided I didn't wanted to be spoiled by Antonio anymore and gone back to Italy to live with my younger brother. Antonio and I kept in touch, of course, since he begged me to call and visit him a lot – w-which I did, probably because it was around that time that I started to f…

…f-fall in love with him or something…

A-and so, we became friends. Then we became _good_ friends. Then we became _best_ friends. Then I began to notice he was no longer treating me like a son or younger brother or even as a best friend, but as something more _precious_, more like a soulmate, like a… a l-_lover_, I suppose…

You know. Because of all the kissing and groping that happened. Yeah, that eventually got suspicious. Just a tad. Okay, maybe more than a tad. I guess his huge hand seductively rubbing my ass was more than just a tad suspicious.

…

…I had liked it, though.

Y-you can't blame me for liking stuff like that, dammit! It took us many, _many_ agonizing years – and one specific invitation of Austria – to make us realize we were in love with each other in the first place, so give me a break already!

Anyways, in the end, we finally started dating and… well, it's already been more than a year since the day we decided to become a… um… a c-couple, and… y-yeah, it's… it's going pretty well, actually…

I'm not as mean to Antonio as I used to be anymore. These days, I almost _always_ let him hug me if he wants to and I'm not _that _afraid anymore to tell Antonio that I love him very much, with every stupid, puny little cell I have inside of me…

I guess it's just… I… I really enjoy spending my time with him and I adore him so much and… and I want him to _propose to me already, dammit dammit dammit_, but…

…I don't think that'll happen any day soon, since he never fully recovered from the _first_ time he tried to ask my hand in marriage and I flat-out _rejected_ him, ironically enough without really _wanting_ to reject him.

I-I was only saying some silly conditions as a stupid joke, d-dammit, how could I have known that he'd take it so damn seriously! I mean, he had also asked Feliciano if he wanted to marry him and according to my stupid brother that was _also_ nothing more than a stupid joke (and a very bad, mean and harsh one, if you ask me, and _you bet_ I've kicked Antonio's ass for that), so why didn't that bastard realize I was perfectly fine with marrying him, even back then, d-dammit…

…

He never asked me again after that.

…

I wonder… if he'd ever ask me again.

…

B-but anyway, to cut an even longer story short…

…I suppose Antonio and I knew each other quite well, based on the aforementioned information. We knew exactly how the other person was or could be in various situations. Antonio knew how to handle me, I knew how to handle him. We were an open book for each other.

And that's why I wasn't afraid of Antonio. Not in the least.

Not even when I was having a conversation with the Netherlands in Antonio's bedroom.

**xXx**

…

Still, it would probably be better if I had this conversation with the Netherlands somewhere else than _right in front_ of Antonio.

You know. Just in case Antonio accidentally overheard my phone call. Which I really, _absolutely_ didn't want him to overhear.

I mean, come on, I heavily doubted that him hearing I was talking to the much-hated Dutch country while nonchalantly walking around with only a sheet around my waist would be very good for his well-being, right? Exactly.

So I had to go somewhere else. And fast, since the Netherlands was starting to get impatient with only hearing my somewhat ragged way of breathing.

'_Romano? You still there? You know, you can be surprisingly quiet for a noisy little runt. Unless… oh god. Don't tell me you're getting a blow-job from Spain right no—'_

'N-no, I'm not, dammit!' I hissed, clenching the receiver with both of my hands while glacing over my shoulder to keep a close eye on Antonio, who wasn't aware of my uneasiness _at all_ and even _smiled_ at me like the naïve moron he was.

Well, in this particular situation, it actually was _good _he was.

'Okay, listen,' I firmly said to the (already snickering) Dutchman, '…just… just give me a second, okay? I'll be right back.'

'_Sure, sure. Take all the time you two need. Spare me the nasty details, though.' _

I stared at my phone in disgust and disbelieve and slowly shook my head. Great. Just when I thought I had spoken to the biggest perv of all already (starts with a "F", ends with "rance the fuckface"), _this_ unreadable guy showed up. Or rather, called up. Or whatever.

'Lovi?' Antonio suddenly asked and I quickly pressed my mobile phone to my chest, twirling around to look at the Spanish nation.

'W-what!'

'Who is it, hm? Someone important? Like Feli or your boss or anything?'

His green eyes looked at me in playful curiosity. However, they also let me know that their owner was still ready to _pounce _me if I did as much as moving up my thin protection barrier (made of _solid sheet_) just a little bit, so I thought it would be better to make clear to him that he really, _really _shouldn't do that.

'It's my boss, yes!' I said, trying to sound as believable as possible and put on a frightening straight face, '…and he's… he's mad at you, Spain!'

Antonio widened his eyes. 'M-mad at me? Why? What have I done?'

'You… you've… _slept with me_!' I roared, giving him the dramatic index finger as I pointed at him.

Silence filled the room for a moment, although I could have sworn I heard a certain (but luckily enough muffled) country laugh out loud. Fucking Dutch bastard.

Finally, Antonio decided to say something and cleared his throat – what, by the way, also sounded a lot like some sort of amused snort. Fucking Spanish bastard.

'…um… well, yes, I did sleep with you!' the Spaniard then said, smiling carefully at me, '…lots and lots of times already! But… why is he mad at me about that? It's not like it's something new to him, right? He knows that you're dating me, doesn't he?'

'He… yes, he actually _does_ know that!' I hollered, still waving my index finger around like it was very scary and impressive and _not ridiculous_ at _all_, even though it absolutely felt like it was.

Antonio blinked a few times, ignoring my spastically-moving finger. 'Then why would he (still) be mad about that? We're already officially dating for over a year, Lovino.'

…well, fuck.

I didn't know what to say right away. For someone who most of the time was disturbingly oblivious and too dumb to live, he sure was sharp as a tack today! God, just my fucking luck!

'I-I don't know!' I ultimately managed to sputter, '…but he is! Mad! At you! You bastard! And so…u-um…'

I quickly looked around me, saw the half-opened door of the bathroom and made a dash to the other side of the room to reach it, before turning to look at Antonio again.

'…a-and so, because of that, I'm going to continue my very important conversation with my boss in the bathroom now!'

'What?' Antonio frowned and tilted his head to the side, '…but that makes no sense!'

'And yet it does!'

'No, it doesn't!'

'I'm _telling_ you it does!'

'But… it really _doesn't, _Lovi!'

I groaned loudly. Oh god, this could go on the whole day and I really didn't have the freaking time for it, dammit! Time to put an end to this!

'Look, I _know_ it's hard for you to keep your yap shut for longer than five fucking seconds, but _please_, just _shut the hell up_ for a while and let me talk to the guy already, Spa— Antonio!'

The Spanish nation's cheeks immediately became a bit pinkish and he gave me a weak smile, slowly settling down in the bed. '…a-ah, okay then, Lovino…'

Ah, the wonderful effects of me, unexpectedly calling Antonio by his human name, never failed to amaze me.

'G-good!' I huffed, grabbing the doorknob of the bathroom door, '…n-now, I'll be back before you know it, so just stay there and look pretty, okay?'

Antonio's jaw dropped and he gave me the weirdest, shocked and most confused look he had ever given me. It seemed like he wanted to say something to me (probably something like "what the flying fuck was _that_?") but I quickly slammed the door shut (and locked it!) before he got the chance to open his mouth.

And then, when I was standing in Antonio's blue-themed (and, I had to admit, _gorgeous-looking_) bathroom with my back against the door, I all of a sudden realized what exactly I had said to the Spaniard (stay there and look pretty? LOOK FUCKING _PRETTY?_) and I cringed, biting on the back of one of my hands to avoid a loud, annoyed groan from coming out.

Oh my fucking god!

Yeah, what the flying fuck _was_ that, dammit!

**xXx**

It took me a while to gather all of my courage to put my telephone to my ear again – I bet that Dutch bastard had the time of his life already, that cheese-sucking, tulip-munching asshole, dammit dammit dammit – but when I finally did, I knew I was ready for this conversation.

Sort of.

Kind of.

Not at all.

…

Crap.

'N-Netherlands. Are you still there?' I almost whispered to the Netherlands, moving away from the door while glaring at the rectangular object as if it was fucking _spying_ on me.

I heard a low snort. _'Fuck yeah, you bet I'm still here – I wouldn't want to miss that hilarious bickering for the world!'_

My face fell. 'You sure have strange hobbies.'

'_**I'm **__the one with weird hobbies? Ha. At least I'm not enjoying having __**some**__ guy's __**something**__ up my ass every freaking evening. Or night. Or whatever time of the day it is – it's not like you Southern Europeans care about the saying "there is a time and place for anything", anyway. You just go at it whenever you feel like doing it.'_ the Dutch nation simply stated.

'What?' I hissed, gritting my teeth.

'_You heard what I said. You do it whenever you want to do it.' _the Netherlands calmly said, _'Like bunnies.' _

My cheeks burnt in embarrassment and I felt humiliated. T-that… that mean bastard! I couldn't believe that guy thought so damn lowly of people from the South of Europe! Did everybody up in the West thought that of us? Really? It couldn't be, right?

I tried to shake the nasty thought off of me and did my best not to growl as I snapped at the Netherlands. 'What the fuck are you saying, you jerk! D-don't compare us with… with freaking _bunnies_! I mean, it's not like I'm having sex with him every day!'

'_I'm just sa—'_

'A-and another thing,' I interrupted him – just because that asshole didn't _deserve _to finish a sentence and because of the simple reason that the hidden badass in me _wanted to_, '…e-even _if_ we did it that much, s-so _what_! That's none of your business, you… pathetic, lonely, ridiculously tall… _tree_!'

Ha! I victoriously grinned at myself in the mirror on the wall of Antonio's bathroom. Showed him! And I hadn't even been _that _scared! Hell, my hand only twitched at bit!

It was quiet for a moment on the other side of the line, until I heard a deep, irritated sigh. _'God, Romano, you're annoying.'_

'No, _you_ are, Netherlands!' I snarled back, forgetting for a moment the possibility that Antonio's bathroom walls could be a bit too thin for this conversation, '…but enough of this stupid shit! Could you just cut to the case already and tell me why the fuck you called me at an hour like this?'

'_Oh, right. Sorry.' _The Dutchman sounded a bit dumbfounded, but tried to hide it by clearing his throat roughly, _'…I called you to ask you if it's alright to meet me at Dam Square. You know. The big dam. In the center of Amsterdam. You can't miss it – just follow the tourists and pigeons.'_

Dam Square? I furrowed my brows. 'I thought we had agreed to meet each other at Hotel Krasnapolsky?'

…what a weird name for a Dutch hotel, by the way. Oh well.

'_Yeah, well, that's right, we had an appointment at Krasnapolsky's – which is located at Dam Square, just in case you were wondering. But… you see, about an hour ago, I found out that the prices of the food of that restaurant are insanely high. And I'm always getting these annoying seizures whenever I spend too much money, so yeah.'_

'…so there won't be a lunch?' I grumbled. Shit. My food-loving heart wasn't pleased if that was the case, dammit.

'_Oh no, we will have a lunch. I already have something else in mind. You'll see it for yourself when you get here.' _the Netherlands reassured me.

'Oh. Okay then.'

'_That was all. I guess I'll see you later today.'_

'Yeah, see you,' I also said, but was a split-second too late – he had already hung up on me. Hmpf. That asocial bastard...

I heaved a deep, tired sigh, put down my trembling – the hell, was I still trembling? – hand and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked a bit pale and there was a frown in my forehead that actually _hurt_.

But all of that didn't matter anymore, for my work was done: I've had a conversation with the Netherlands while Antonio was sitting in the room right next to the bathroom and he didn't know _shit_ about it and that was _good_.

…

Wait a minute. That actually _was_ pretty fucking good.

Again, I allowed myself to smile sneakily at myself. Ha, who'd ever thought I could be such a… _shifty _character? Seriously, I was pretty damn _shrewd_ for succeeding to fool Antonio with such a weak, transparent lie! Sure, it was _Antonio_, but still! I should pat myself on the shoulders for pulling off a stunt like this!

…

Too bad I spoke too soon.

**xXx**

I walked out of the bathroom with a content smirk on my face, very pleased with myself and very eager to tell Antonio that if he still wanted to _get some _(and knowing him, he _would_), he had to make it snappy since I would be leaving soon – for a unknown destination (a.k.a. the Netherlands) that he was _never, ever_ going to find out about because before I would leave the House, I'd _personally_ make him feel so fucking _good_ that he would be too much in a post-orgasmic daze for the rest of the day to worry himself over unimportant matters like, oh, say, my _whereabouts_.

It was a fucking foolproof plan. At least, I _thought_ it was.

…but, well, as I already said – I spoke too soon.

Because when I was about to puff my cheeks and walk over to Antonio to tell him in a _disturbingly _genuine, grumpy/annoyed/shy/hot voice about that _dreadful_ piece of sheet around my waist that just kept sliding off my hips ("d-do something about it already, y-you bastard…~")…

…I noticed that Antonio wasn't sitting on the bed anymore.

In fact, Antonio wasn't on the bed _at all_ anymore.

No, instead, he was standing _right_ in front of the bathroom, like he had been waiting for me to get out (the bastard was lucky the door didn't hit him in the head when I came out, dammit), and he had a big, unrealistic rumple in his forehead.

Now that couldn't be a very good sign.

'Done talking with your boss?' he scoffed, his now dark, green eyes glinting angrily as they bored themselves into my own, '…or should I say: done talking with the _Netherlands_, Lovino?'

…aaaand all of the subtle white lies and stupid excuses I had quickly prepared for myself in the bathroom about this touchy subject that was called the Netherlands, went _right_ through the window, just like that, together with my self-confidence and smug smirk.

Fuck. Eavesdropping bastard. He knew about it. That meant he probably _also_ knew about my plans to go and visit the smoking Dutchman. And Antonio's face told me… well, that he wasn't exactly _happy_ with that.

…

…okay then, so what the fuck was I supposed to do _now_?

**xXx**

Well, I suppose getting dressed would be a good start.

'Clothes. I'm going to put on some clothes.' I simply said to the Spanish nation without looking at him, and mentally forced myself to walk past him as calm and relaxed as possible because _no fucking way_ I was going to show that asshole that his accusing eyes made me feel a little bit uncomfortable at the moment.

'Lovino… you can't be serious,' I finally heard Antonio say, his voice stern, yet more high-pitched than usual, '…please don't tell me you're actually going to the Netherlands today.'

'What else do you want me to tell you then?' I casually said and grabbed the handles of the giant, wooden closet in the bedroom, that contained both Antonio's and my clothes.

'You _really_ want to know what I want you to tell me, Lovino?' Antonio slowly said and I could almost _feel_ him getting more and more upset as we spoke, but tried not to think about it too much and focused on the closet instead.

'…I want you to tell me you're **not** going to that… that backstabbing, Dutch bastard, Lovino…' Antonio continued in a low voice, '…no, even better – I want you to tell me _why_ in the _world_ you would want to visit him, while _knowing very well _I can't stand the jerk. Why, Lovino?'

'Y-yeah, well… _tough_!' I snarled back at Antonio – still not looking at him – and attempted to open the old closet, '…I _am_ going to the Netherlands! Nothing you can do about it!'

For the sake of my brilliant, yet slightly _risky_ plan, I decided to pretend like I hadn't heard the second part of Antonio's sentence – hell, if I actually _did_ tell the Spaniard why I was going to the Netherlands, his eyes would probably pop out from sheer _agony_.

…

Oh god. That was fucking _disgusting_.

Just when I was trying to get rid of the disturbing mental images of an eyeless Antonio chasing his own _eyeballs_ that were spontaneously bubbling up in my head…

…I suddenly noticed I couldn't open the doors of the closet, no matter how furiously I was tugging on the door-handles. Shit, what the hell? I cursed under my breath and finally looked at the wooden doors.

The small, copper-colored key of the closet was gone.

Oh.

Antonio made a triumphant, teasing click with his tongue. 'Looking for something, Lovi?'

I grumbled and turned around, only to see the (totally naked except for stupid red boxers) Spaniard, twirling a thin string with the key of the closet on it around his middle finger cunningly.

A… a rather obscene gesture, if you asked me. Especially when he looked at me with that provoking, slightly twisted smile around his lips, as if he had just decided to toy with me for a bit longer…

T-toy with me, huh…. I-interesting.

Not that I thought it was hot to get played with by Antonio. Of course not. I wasn't perverted like that. Nope, I was very normal and I sure as hell didn't have some kind of a hard-on right now. I just liked to keep my penholder at very strange, yet original places. So shut up.

I slowly breathed in and out again, before I stiffly shuffled closer to Antonio, holding out my hand.

'Give me the key.'

'No!' Antonio scowled (the hell, he actually _scowled_?) and closed his hand around the key, bringing it to his chest like a disobedient, unruly little boy. It seemed like he was _this_ close to yelling "my key, you poophead, my key!".

I growled and moved even closer towards him. 'Give me the fucking key, dammit! I can't go to the Netherlands like _this_!_'_

'Oh, _really_? Gee, I hadn't thought of that yet.' Antonio smiled, but his eyes and face didn't light up from it like they usually did.

My bottom lip started to tremble – not because I was about to cry, but because I was getting _pissed off_ like you wouldn't believe. God, I wanted to smack him in the face and/or kick his half-naked ass for being such a mean jerk, but then I realized Antonio was even _**more**__ pissed off _(and also a lot _stronger_)than me, so I decided to go for plan B, which was… putting on the same clothes I had worn yesterday.

…

…what? Of course I could do that. That wasn't a big deal for me at all. I mean, I _certainly_ didn't think that wearing clothes longer than one day was messy or anything. If I used a fuckton of deodorant, hell, I'd be perfectly fine.

…ugh...

I pursed my lips and hastily walked over to the pile of clothes on the red carpet of Antonio's room, knowing Antonio was still watching my every move as I did so.

'What are you doing _now_?' he asked with a sigh.

I sniffed and put on my boxers and pants, not-quivering of the grossness of it at all. 'W-what does it look like, you ass? I'm getting dressed!'

'Really?' I looked up and saw Antonio stared at me in disbelieve, '…you're putting on the same clothes as yesterday? For _real_?'

I didn't like that stupid look on his face – what was he getting all surprised about, dammit! – and turned my back on him again before I grabbed my white-but-not-as-white-as-I-wanted-it-to-be shirt.

'Y-yes! That's right! I'm wearing my clothes twice! So? What's wrong with that? You and the lock of your stupid closet leave me no other choice!' I nagged, fumbling with the sleeves.

All of a sudden, his hands were on my bare shoulders and his hot breath right next to my ear. Oh god.

'Ah… but isn't that _nasty_, Lovi? Isn't that very, very _dirty_?'

He replaced one of his hands with his mouth and nipped… no, downright _bit_ my shoulder, way more forceful than the gentle lovebites I was used to and I winced, holding back a moan – I mean, _manly grunt_, dammit.

'N-no, i-it…ah… i-isn't! It's not dirty at all, d-dammit...' I protested – feebly – and tried to struggle myself free, but with no success.

'Oh, but it _is_. Especially for a stylish Italian guy like you, Lovino,' he muttered, thankfully enough changing his bites into apologizing kisses when he saw it was actually _hurting_ me, '…ah, sorry. Anyway, why don't you just… get out of those _filthy_ clothes, forget about that whole stupid appointment with the Netherlands and take a nap with me instead, hm? Doesn't that sound nice?'

That did it.

That fake, happy voice of his, while he was _assaulting_ me at the same time like it wasn't a big deal, was the _last fucking __**straw**_.

'Like _hell_ it does!'

I harshly pushed him away from me and gave him an infuriated glare, rubbing my sore shoulder. '…y-you fucking bastard, do you _really _think I want to nap with you after you _plunged_ your teeth into me like that? No way! What is the next thing you're going to do to me if I still don't want to obey to you? Hit me? _Torture_ me? All because you don't want me to go to the fucking Netherlands? _Really_?'

Antonio hadn't expected this turn of events and instinctively took a few steps back, his eyes softening. 'L-Lovi, don't say that, you know I'd never hurt you! Okay, maybe I went a bit too far with the biting, but I thought you liked tha… oh, please don't look at me like that, I just—'

'By the way, do you have _another_ reason why you don't want me to visit the Netherlands? Some dark, deep secret? A secret I must never know of? Are you afraid he'll tell me about the shady things you might have done to him, Spain?' I suddenly blurted out before I could stop myself.

He just stared at me in shock.

**xXx**

The words kept coming out, I couldn't help it. I guess I was just being very frustrated over my shoulder or something like that, 'cause I was on freaking _fire_.

And not in a good way.

'Look, I-I know you were an asshole back then, Spain!' I heard myself shriek (oh god, why, _why_ did I have to shriek), '…I…I might have been young, sure, but hell, even then I knew you were a mean, evil bastard! And you probably treated a lot of countries and colonies like goddamn _crap_, too, aside from me and Belgium!'

Antonio licked his lips. 'Lovino, t-that's—'

'So, hey, if you really want to know, Spain: _yes_, I know you find it hard to accept that I'm going to visit the Netherlands and _yes, _I also know the Netherlands is a bastard and a jerk and shit like that, but please, do me a fucking favor and don't act like you're the good guy here, 'cause you're a shitty bastard yourself too, oh _mighty_ Kingdom of Spain. _Tsssk_. You're probably just as "mighty" as you fucking _wallet _is now.'

After that last line, I finally managed to slap my hands in front of my face to stop my mouth from spouting horrible things I really, _really_ didn't want say, really didn't want to say, even though…

…even though I honestly believed at least _some_ of it was stone cold _reality_.

Meanwhile, Antonio had been quiet. Oh shit. Oh crap. Like hell I was going to look at Antonio now. His face probably looked like I had just slapped him across the face or something…

I could hear how the Spanish nation breathed in and out, in and out, slowly, almost _calmly_, like I hadn't offended him and his nation like a suicidal idiot, and then I just… just couldn't take the monstrous pressure anymore and looked up at him.

I wish I hadn't done that.

Antonio looked… well. It was like his face had frozen into this… this cold, disapproving expression, and it… it _hurt_ to look him in the eyes – they fucking _pierced _my own eyes like murderous icicles. His lips were a thin, tight line and didn't tilt up- or downwards, they just… stayed still in the motionless position they were now.

I would be lying if I said Antonio didn't scare me right then. Hell, I had _never _seen the bastard have an expression other than those that were close to his warm, passionate nature, so this was… surreal. Very surreal. Not to mention creepy and nerve-wracking. Also, the silence was fucking killing me.

I had to say something. Something nice, something like "I pulled your leg there, didn't I!", so I swallowed hard and wanted to open my mouth, when Antonio beat me to it.

'Fine.'

…

Holy shit, his voice gave me the freaking _chills_, but I managed to keep up a straight face and gave him a cautious, yet confused look.

'W-what's fine, Spa—'

'You can go to the Netherlands. Or to England. Or to other countries I hate, for all I care.' Antonio narrowed his eyes, glaring at me with a scornful snort, '…go ahead, do what you want, ask them all you want, _Romano_, if you think you know me so well.'

Even though I should have seen this coming, I paled quicker than I had thought I would. _Romano_. He actually called me Romano. He knew I hated it to be called Romano by him.

Now, this probably would have been a very good moment for me to apologize to him and tell him I was just shouting all those things because I was really angry and annoyed and having a reddened shoulder when all of that happened, right? I could still set things right… right?

Yeah, I could.

But I didn't.

'In that case, I guess I'll be going then.' I said instead, dusting off my shirt with shaking hands, '…a-and I _will _ask the Netherlands all of those questions. J-just so you know.'

He looked like I bore him to death.

'That's nice, Romano.'

'I know, Spain.'

I cleared my throat and fidgeted on some of the buttons of my shirt, again too wussy to look at him when I carefully carried on: '…s-so, I suppose I'll see you tonight.'

'Oh, I don't think so, Romano.' A flash of pain shot through my body when I heard the bitter, yet slightly amused tone of his words and for some reason, I squeezed my eyes shut, especially when I realized he wasn't finished yet.

'Ah, don't take this personally, Romano – I just don't think my humble, poor man's House is good enough for such a "wonderful" country as yourself. So why don't you get going, hm?'

I raised my head, hesitatingly. 'S-Spai-'

'Because I _**will **_kick you out if you have the fucking _guts_ to stay at this place after that beautiful little speech of yours.'

I immediately cringed and shut up again. If those eyes wouldn't freeze hell over, his words certainly would.

**xXx**

I didn't think there was anything left to save anymore, but…

I still wanted to say sorry, say something nice, say something useful, but I only frowned and then frowned a bit more, my own stupid, paralyzing proud standing in the way of telling the person I loved that I really didn't meant to hurt him.

What was worse: Antonio _saw _I was struggling with it, he _saw _I wanted to say sorry and he even was kind enough to give me the fucking _chance_ to say it by pausing expectantly, by giving me a last, hopeful look…

..but really, it was no use – I wasn't going to say it. So when he realized it wasn't going to happen, he heaved a deep, annoyed sigh, walked over to the door and pushed it open, rubbing his suddenly slightly reddening face in silent frustration as he stood next to the entrance.

'…just... just get out, Romano.'


	13. Cheeks

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I… I can't believe how many reviews you wonderful people gave me last week. Seriously. I could've never thought I'd ever get more reviews than I got while writing "This Dance", but… Y-you already gave me over 240 reviews! That's… ah, I don't know, I just feel so very, very flattered!~ You really make this fic worth writing for, so let me say it once again: thank you very much for all of your support! _^^

_A/n2: I've been to Amsterdam at least twice – and that's a lot for a girl living in a town far away from the capital city. I can't say I liked the city very much._

_A/n3: Looks like I'm keeping the angst up in this chapter. Hmmmrr. I hope it's not too much. I want it to be gone by the end of the next chapter, since I want to write something disgustingly fluffy already…_

_A/n4: I seem to have something with Lovi and Mika – the singer. Hm. I'm actually not a very big fan of Mika, but I have to admit that listening to some of his songs is a secret guilty pleasure of mine... So I decided, just for the hell of it, to make it a guilty pleasure of Lovi, too – but only when he's absolutely sure no-one is around, since he hates Mika's ass for some reason. Well, probably because it's not Toni's ass. _*hit with a random broomstick*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XIII:

_**Chubby Cheeks  
**__**(Nursery Rhyme)**_

Sometimes, I really, _really_ hated my very lively imagination with a burning passion.

Because…

…because when I was driving to the Netherlands, my frustrated thoughts just kept rewinding the scene that had happened at Antonio's place over and over again, making me feel awful and lonely and oh my _god_, it even caused me to _forget_ _to flip off France's House when I had the chance to_.

Now that's just_ unsettling_.

B-but anyway, just to let you know, I _wasn't_ crying almost all the way from Spain to the Netherlands. Nope. Not at all.

…

N-no, I _wasn't_, dammit! That weren't tracks of tears on my cheeks, hell no! That were… tracks of… my moistening day crème. Yes, I used that. And yes, there was some serious shiny shit going on on my face. It went down from right below my eyes to my chin. I-in two small… tracks.

B-but like I said, that was the crème. T-that was normal.

A-and those red and puffy eyes? Also the day crème, dammit. Must be an allergic reaction or something – shut up, I have tons of allergies, alright? N-never going to buy that stuff again. Ever.

…

S-so, like I said, I wasn't I crying. I was way too manly and cool to be crying over that Spanish bastard that had practically chucked me out of his place, so no, I _wasn't_ whimpering like a fucking dumped teenager and I hadn't turned on some depressing songs in the car while I was at it either, because I _wasn't_ sad, I _wasn't_ upset and I _wasn't _wailing along and/or hitting the claxon in time with the horrible song "Happy Ending" at all, since Mika's a huge fag.

…well, okay, I happened to be quite faggy myself, too, but still. Even homosexuality had a limit, you know.

…

I… fuck…

I… wondered what Antonio was doing right now.

N-not that I cared _that much _about whatever the hell he was doing and/or thinking, of course, but, yeah… I… just wanted to know. I mean, he was still sick – I think – and maybe he needed help with… o-oh, I don't know, I just don't know, dammit…

_Okay, calm down already, Lovino, you huge drama-queen. Or king. Or whatever you are._

Hell, he'd probably be sleeping. Or calling Prussia and France to think of a way to take revenge on me. Or changing his locks, just to be sure that I would never take another step in his House again. Yeah, I was sure he was doing something like that right now…

Shit. Fuck. I bit on the inside of my cheeks and squeezed into the wheel, hard enough to make my knuckles turn white.

I shouldn't have left things like that, dammit.

I should have gone back into the House and I should have told Antonio that I didn't meant to yell at him like that, that I was just a scared, weak half of a nation and that I just wanted to let him know that I still loved him very much…

…but instead, I went and took his car. Just like that. Bam.

Way to go, Lovino! Using the car of Antonio to drive to the Netherlands, the man he absolutely _hated_, _surely _will make him forget you stomped on his heart and insulted his entire being! Man, are you a romantic son of a bitch or _what_!

…ugh. I wasn't making things any easier for me, either…

Still, I _had_ to take Antonio's car. I didn't own a car – well, I once did, but then Feliciano came along and wrecked it like the stupid idiot he is – so I _had_ to borrow the Spanish car for a little while. Sure, I could have called my brother to ask him to lend me his car, but that moron was still in Germany and I didn't want to stay at Antonio's place any longer and… and…

…c-crap, I was going to sleep completely alone tonight, w-wasn't I?

…t-that didn't matter. I was a big country. I could easily sleep by myself. And I wasn't totally alone – I would sleep with my people, AKA the people of Italy. Metaphorically spoken, of course.

…

…w-why didn't that sound nice at all, dammit… w-why did I still want to have somebody lying next to me, holding me, smiling at me… l-loving me…

…I-I…

Fuck, I all of a sudden choked up f-for some reason, dammit. Oh, and my vision got blurry, too.

D-damn that moistening crème… stupid… Spanish… moistening crème…

**xXx**

Okay. Enough of this already, dammit. Let's focus for a moment and forget about that Spanish bastard.

…or at least attempt to.

**xXx**

Amsterdam. Let me tell you something about Amsterdam.

Just like Paris and Berlin, Amsterdam was a pretty big, busy, lively city with people walking/running/shuffling all over the place without paying much attention to wherever the hell they were walking.

…the fuck is wrong with big cities, dammit!

Also, the astounding flatness of the city overwhelmed me. No, seriously. The streets were so very… _flat_. Even flatter than those in Berlin. The buildings in Amsterdam were all kind of… squished together into this long, endless street full of (shady) shops and (shady) restaurants and (even shadier) cafés, that didn't seem to have an end to it. The stoop most people were walking on was a broad one, with a busy road full of trams, cars and _fucking bicycles _right next to it.

…and yes, _every living human being_ on that specific road next to the stoop was driving like a mentally disturbed _maniac_. Even the cyclists – no, _especially_ the cyclists. They were _madmen. _On _bicycles_. With _bicycle __**bells**_. Fucking _shit_.

So considering the fact that this city would have a big, negative impact on my fucking _lifespan_ if I didn't watch my steps, it actually wasn't _that_ strange to be freaking _scared to death_ to walk all the way from the train station to Dam Square. Hell, I'd probably get brutally killed by kids on murderous _**tricycles!**_ before even leaving the station!

…God. I was such a wuss.

W-well! That didn't matter, 'cause next time I came to visit the Netherlands (you know, if I actually _survived_ all of this shit today), I would soooooo bring my Vespa with me. And I'd bring Antoni—

No, I wouldn't.

…u-unless he still would be my boyfriend and _wanted_ to come with me.

T-that would be nice… m-maybe I'd even allow him to ride.

He'd definitely like that…

…

B-but anyway…

Just in case it wasn't obvious enough: I arrived in Amsterdam by _train_, not by car. Yes, that was some advice the Netherlands had given to me a couple of weeks ago.

**xXx**

'_Yo, Romano. The Netherlands here. I was wondering… how are you planning to come to Amsterdam?'_

'How? By car, I gue—'

'_**Don't**__.'_

'What?'

'_Don't… come to Amsterdam by car. Just don't. You don't want to do that to yourself.'_

'W-what the fuck do you mean! What's wrong with going by car!'

'_Well, if you're thinking it **isn't** hellishly difficult to park your (or __**any**__) car in Amsterdam, you are officially insane.'_

'…and why is that?'

'_Why? Hm… to put it very bluntly, Amsterdam's too fucking filled to the brim to have even more cars park inside the city. Sure, there are some small opportunities scattered around the city, I guess, but if I were you, I'd ditch the car in Rotterdam and come to Amsterdam by train.'_

'Oh. Okay, thanks for the tip.'

'_Sure. That'll be 10 euro's.'_

'The hell? Screw you, I'm not giving you money!'

'_Then I won't tell you the advice.'_

'You just did!'

'_Then I'll take back what I said. You should totally come by car.'_

…

I hang up.

**xXx**

So I walked from the train station to Dam Square.

It wasn't that big of a deal, really. I was just following the path and glaring at those loud people around me, that's all. The stoop guided the many tourists – very conveniently – to the direction of Dam Square, somewhere in the heart of the city, so I could take it easy ( if I hadn't been scared to die) and walk like I hadn't had a care in the world.

Even though I did have some cares in the world. But not very big ones. Hell no. Shut up.

To distract myself, I tried to focus on the people around me. I mean, there were lots of them around me, so hey, why not look at them, huh?

Dutch people… were kind of weird. And most of them didn't look Dutch at all. Hell, most of them didn't even _talk_ Dutch, either. So very strange… especially since I _did_ I hear lots and lots of - for Dutch people - foreign languages, like English, German _which I didn't understand at all, shut up about it already dammit,_ French, Italian – yes, Italian – and even Spa—

…

Never mind…

**xXx**

S…

…so eventually, I arrived at Dam Square.

Well. It certainly was… busy at Dam Square. There were people everywhere I looked and the old buildings were big and heavy-looking, almost suffocating-huge and broad. There were a couple of monuments, mime-guys (creepy sons of bitches), a Michael Jackson-impersonator that everybody was ignoring because he sucked ass and a shitload of tourists with backpacks and weird-smelling cigarettes, but what caught my eye the _most_ were…

…the _pigeons._

Oh my god, the _pigeons!_ They were everywhere! They were attacking a Japanese man that tried to feed them some waffle-crumbs, they were stalking two little girls and they were shitting all over the place and _oh my god, where did the Japanese dude go to? _I couldn't see him anymore! Holy fucking _fuck_, the pigeons had fucking _eaten_ him! **Alive**! Oh crap!

…oh no, wait, there he was.

…

God. I heaved a deep sigh and sat down on a long, hard bench, close to the Royal Palace of Amsterdam. Oh, and the pigeon-man.

I felt awful. Really, really awful. I wish hadn't made this appointment with the Netherlands, to be honest. I just didn't _feel_ like asking him how he managed to top Antonio, especially since that would be so… awkward to ask. You know. Because I had a fight with him this morning and stuff. Fuck, asking the Dutchman about all the sex he had with Antonio in the past even sounded kind of _sick _right now! What the fucking hell was _wrong_ with me, dammit!

Ugh… I guess my life _really_ didn't like me right now.

…

Speaking of things that didn't really like me, why hadn't the Netherlands showed up yet? Damn! I mean, sure, France and Prussia were two horrible motherfuckers and I'd kill them with fire – from a safe distance, with Germany as my shield – if they ever tried to put their dicks into _my _property again (u-unless Antonio didn't want me anymore, 'cause in that case, I'd… hell, I wouldn't care about that at all… seriously…), but at least those two had the decency to be on time!

What the fuck took him so long, dammit!

I was getting more irritated by the second, of course, but just when I was about to grab my mobile phone and text a very angry message to the Dutch freak, I heard a familiar voice call out my name, just behind me.

'Yo, Romano.'

Accompanied with a bright little _ring_ from the bell of the…

…_pink monstrosity that he brought with him that was supposed to be a bicycle._

Oh my GOD!

**xXx**

I shot up from the bench and stared at the Netherlands and the girly little bike he had with him.

I… I couldn't even _speak_ right away. It was just… it was so _pink_. The frame was _pink_, the bell was _pink_, the handles were _pink_ and even the frilly things dangling from that same handles were _pink_.

The flowers sprayed on the pink frame were purple, though.

Meanwhile, the Netherlands had casually put a cigarette in his mouth and watched me freak out in silence without ever losing his straight, composed face. He seemed to find it all very interesting, that evil cheese-chewer. He just waited until I turned my head away from his bike in disgust before he finally decided to say something.

'Hey, you can ride my bicycle if you like it that much, Romano. It's cool with me.'

WHAT THE…? I immediately twirled back, hissing. 'I can do _what_?'

'Ride my bike.' The Netherlands patted on the saddle of the pink nightmare, '…don't be embarrassed, you're not the only gay person here that wants to ride my bike. There are tons of people that like to ride my bike. Since my bike is so very temping and _big_. You should definitely sit on it. It'll make you feel nice.'

...

And that, sweet children, is called a _metaphor_.

GOOD GOD! I almost shrieked in horror and backed off. 'Stay away from me, you perverted loser! I don't want to ride your… your _whatever_ it is!'

The Dutchman shrugged. 'Fine by me. And maybe that's the best, yes. Femke would only yell at me again if I would let you have the possibility to break her bike.'

'It's Belgium's bike?' I said, confused, '…but you said it was yours!'

'Yeah. Well. I lied. It happens.'

I rolled my eyes and flopped back onto the bench again, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Fucking bastard, scaring me like that, dammit…

The Netherlands sat next to me as well and I made a face when the fifthly smoke of his cigarette filled my nose. Well, at least it wasn't weed or something, but it still smelled bad. I wasn't used to smoking people around me. I mean, I didn't smoke, Feliciano didn't smoke… Antonio didn't smoke, either…

…

A-anyway, why was the Netherlands still holding on to that fucking pink thing, dammit! Why didn't he toss it away between some other bicycles already!

He saw me shooting hateful glances to his – I mean, _Belgium's_ bike, and blinked. 'Oh, you're probably wondering why I'm not putting away the bike, right?'

'That, and why the hell you came on that monster in the _first_ place! Don't you have a bike or car for yourself?' I snapped at him, crossing my arms.

'Yeah, I used to have a bicycle for myself. But it got stolen.' the Dutchman said.

I frowned. 'Then buy another one!'

'That one got stolen, too.'

'…then—'

'And the next one also got stolen. And the one after that. And the one after that.'

'…'

'…so now I'm taking Femke's bike every time I walk out the door and I'm not leaving it alone anymore, since Dutch people tend to steal bikes. Just like…' He narrowed his eyes dangerously, '…the _Germans._'

I just watched him with a growing feeling of mortification inside of me.

He didn't notice the expression on my face and simply put out his cigarette before he gave me an impatient look.

'Anyway, why did you want to talk to me, Romano?'

Oh. I felt my face getting a little bit redder.

R-right. Almost forgot about that…

**xXx**

So…

After I had explained to the Dutchman why I had wanted to talk to him (while stuttering and blushing and making a complete fucking fool of myself since I was so very, _very_ good at that, dammit), the usually pretty outspoken, open country got quiet. Quiet in a way that told me the Netherlands was thinking very carefully about what he was going to say.

And something told me that wasn't a good signal, that it even was a very _bad _signal, that I should run back to the train station like a hysterical spazz and take the train back to wherever my— no, _Antonio's_ fucking car was and get the _hell_ out of here, before the Dutch guy would tell me something really didn't want to hear.

But I didn't run away.

I just stayed put and studied the Netherlands face, that was changing between different expressions pretty fucking quickly – almost like he was already trying to figure out how he could get me to pay for lunch 'cause you _bet _that asshole would try to get me to pay everything, that stingy bastard, dammit.

…wait, what?

Geez. Just _focus_ on the guy already, Lovino, for fuck's sake. Damn.

The Netherlands folded his hands together, leant his chin on top of them and stared a bit in the distance without blinking – at least for a minute or five. He still hadn't said a word, he just… well, breathed, I suppose. But that's about it. Apart from the breathing, he wasn't doing very much. It totally freaked me out, goddammit. Because…

What… what did he want to say about him and Antonio? And what could it be that he _didn't_ want to tell me? W-was it actually _true _what I had screamed at Antonio, about him being a molesting, abusing bastard to the Netherlands? I mean… he hadn't denied it or anything…

…well, not that I had given him the fucking _chance_ to deny it, but still… s-something wasn't right…

'Romano.' the Netherlands suddenly started.

I jumped at the sudden sound of his gruff voice. 'Y-yes?'

The Netherlands had turned his face my way and looked at me in doubt.

'Listen… are you sure you want to hear this? It's not a very nice story, you know. And since Spain's your (_must resist urge to gag_) boyfriend, I don't think you would want to know this about… well… the time we spend together. I can reassure you it's all in the past now – because I fucking _hate_ that tomato-sucking, don't-kick-my-people-into-their-chest-during-the-final-whining freak, but…'

'I want to know.' I automatically said while pretending that my heart wasn't pounding mercilessly hard against my ribs at all, and let out a shaky sigh.

'I… I want to know it all. Not only if it can help me to top Anto- I mean, Spain for once, b-but also because… because I think it's something that I just… need to know in general. K-know what I mean?'

He finally blinked and cocked his head. 'Not really. You are a very complicated and difficult person for me to understand.'

'Oh.'

Well. I wasn't exactly _surprised_ to hear that. He wasn't the first one who had told me, so yeah. Not really pleasant to hear, but hey – what can I do about it?

'Just tell me already, okay? Just… just tell me.' I muttered, too confused and anxious to act like a mean brat, '…y-you don't need to understand me. I-I already _have _a person who understands me, so…'

He smiled faintly. 'Aha. Now _that's_ something that I understand as well, Romano. Alright then. I'll tell you. Don't say that I didn't warn you afterwards, though.'

I nodded slowly and swallowed heavily. 'T-thanks.'

Oh god. Oh dear _god_.

Who knows what I was about to hear.

**xXx**

The Netherlands took a deep breath and leant back onto the bench, glancing at me with yet another weak smile on his lips.

'You know, when we were still living together in that House – you, me, Spain and Femke – I always kind of liked you.'

'Is that so.'

Naturally, I tried to increase the distance between us right away.

The Netherlands noticed and smirked amusedly. 'Hà, I _knew_ you would take that the wrong way, I just _knew_ it. Well, don't worry – and don't think so highly of yourself either, you little runt: I only meant that I thought you were a cool kid to hang out with, that's all.'

'So… y-you thought I was _cool_? Really?' I was sure my mouth was open wide when I stared at the tall guy next to me, '…me? Cool? W-why the hell did you think that!'

He shrugged nonchalantly. 'To be honest, you were the only one living in Spain's House who made his life even _more_ miserable than I already had made it, and you could even _get away with it_, since that Spanish jackass liked you for some reason. Like a father would like his son.'

'…oh.' My stomach felt weird.

The Dutchman continued: 'So yeah, I always thought it was fucking hilarious to make a mess of the House together with you – I guess you don't remember that anymore, but it's true: you and I were allies, back then. _You_ hated Spain, _I _hated Spain, and so, together, we would combine our forces to pester and annoy the ever-loving crap out of Spain until the poor bastard would get a breakdown and shit.'

'…and… did that work?' I asked quietly, wondering if I could somehow prevent my cheeks from getting too red when the distant, shameful memories of my youth in Antonio's house slowly came back into my mind again.

The grin on the Dutchman's face disappeared – completely.

'No. He _snapped_ one day. Completely flipped out. He wasn't mad at you, though – of _course_ he wasn't mad at you, you were his little _Romanito~_, still a child, innocent and pure and blablabla – but _damn_, he sure as _hell_ didn't go easy on _me_. Beat the hell out of me for being a rebellious punk. Almost half-blinded me when he did so, too.'

He pointed to the thin scar on his forehead, close to his left eye, and snorted.

'Heh. Yeah, I guess I really was a rebellious punk.'

I sucked on my lower lip – yes, _sucked_. So that's when he got that scar of his. God. I… I honestly didn't know that Antonio was the one who did that… but maybe that was very naive of me. Yeah. It probably was, yes…

'Anyway,' the Netherlands carried on, 'I sort-of calmed down after that little lesson of discipline by Spain. He had scared me pretty badly and my fear of him had been just a little bit more intense than my hate for him, so I behaved like a good, yet scheming colony of his for a while. Until…'

I gulped. 'U-until…?'

He glared at me. 'Until I found out that Spain was having sex with my sister on a regular basis, dammit!'

I only widened my eyes. So… Belgium had sex with Antonio, too, huh?

…

…yeah, well… I actually kind of knew that already.

Antonio had told me all about that a long time ago, before we started dating – and when I say "all about that", I _mean_ "all about that".

Whenever Antonio began to talk (again) about this strange relation he used to have with Belgium back in the old days, he always said things like "wanting to love her" and "couldn't give her what she wanted" and "always jumped me while only wearing an apron from whipped cream and a chocolate bra" and so on until I would smack his head and tell him to shut up about it, since I never liked to hear him talk about his former relationships, not even when we were still "just" friends.

'Hey, Romano?' The Dutchman eyed me strangely.

'W-what?'

'You don't look as surprised as I thought you would be.' He sounded somewhat disappointed. '…so I guess you also knew they were doing it?'

'Something like that, yes…' I answered vaguely.

'He just used her for his own satisfaction.' He growled and squeezed into the handles of the steer of the bike, his eyes hard and bitter.

'W-what do you mean?' I asked.

The Netherlands rolled his eyes and groaned, as if he had never been asked such a stupid question before. 'God. I don't know if you've _noticed_ it already, Romano, but Spain's _gay_.'

I pouted in protest. '…I happened to notice that, yes.'

'Well, I think he hadn't quite noticed that _himself _yet during those days. I guess he thought he was just like a "regular" guy, and hey, why would a "regular" guy turn down a sweet and caring girl like my sister when she confessed to him she loved him? At least he could have sex as much as he wanted now, especially since my sister so very kindly _threw_ herself into his arms like that!'

I didn't say anything.

Antonio never told me he had actually _used_ Belgium.

'And I _knew_ he was using her, dammit!' The Netherlands' hands, still firmly closed around the steer, started to tremble with anger. '…I _knew _he was only using her to find out if he was into girls or not, because he also slept around with his strange friends every now and then. But for some reason, he never told tell Femke that he wouldn't see her as something _more_ than a very good (sex)friend, _ever_… and my sister was too blinded by her stupid love for the fucking bastard to realize this sick lovelife of hers wasn't doing her any good, so I did something that I should have done way earlier.'

'You kicked his ass?' I managed to say, still too immobilized by his unforgiving words to say or do anything more than that.

The huge Dutch man shook his head slowly and let go of the steer. 'No – I offered _myself_ to Spain. That way, he wouldn't only leave my sister alone, but he also could have the opportunity to dominate me – and that bastard _loved_ to dominate the still evil, unruly young man that I was.'

Dear _god_. I half-heartedly tried to picture that unholy imagine in my mind, but it just… it was too fucking weird. I couldn't do it.

'Y-you _offered_ yourself to him?' I heard myself repeat him.

He nodded. 'Yes. And by doing that, I effectively broke Femke's heart and gave her a good reason to hate me for at least a two, three centuries. Hell, maybe she _still_ kind of hates me for sleeping with her beloved Spaniard, but I don't care anymore – if was for her own good. And she _knows_ it was.'

'Yeah… probably…' I stared down at my hands. Apparently, I was fumbling with the seam-thingy of my shirt. I wondered when I had started doing that.

Then I suddenly looked up to the larger man beside me and frowned deeply. 'I-I'm a bit confused. You say that had sex with Spain. But... but you didn't actually top him, did you? You were the one on the bottom... right?'

The Netherlands observed me for a little while.

Then a wicked smile appeared on his face.

'…like I said: he had the _opportunity_ to dominate me. But did I ever say I **_let _**him dominate me, Romano?'

I didn't know what to say, so I just let his words sink in for a bit. O-oh.

_Oh_.

...

Interesting. I suddenly was aware of the fact that I could probably learn a thing or two from the bastard.


	14. Backside

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Merry Christmas, y'all!~ _^^ _I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas this year! Please eat lots of delicious stuff and enjoy this chapter of mine which isn't Christmassy whatsoever!~ _*kicked by reindeer, WHAT*

_A/n2: Next week, it's already the 1__st__ of January! Gosh, time flies when you're having fun (and stress because of school)! Anyway, don't expect me to update early in the morning next week: I usually update at 8.20 AM, because I have to go to work a bit later on. But I don't have to work next week, which means I can sleep late for once!~ Don't worry though – I WILL be updating next week, but it will be at least __**four hours later**__ than what you're used of me. But since you all will be late up just as well, I don't think that's going to be a problem! _^^

_A/n3: The fluff! It's BACK!~ Ah, but it's somewhere near the end of the chapter, I'm afraid..._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XIV:

_**Backside Rules the Navy  
**__**(Pyrates!)**_

Hated to say it, but maybe, just maybe, the tall, blunt Dutchman was my fucking _hero. _And not just some kind of hero, no, he was my "Dominates Your Sorry Ass In Bed, Bitch!" –hero.

…what? It's true!

I mean, if _somebody_ should be able to give me advice on how to top Antonio, it had to be the Netherlands. He had been beaten up, kicked, hit, scolded and even _scarred for life _by the once very gruesome Empire of Spain, and yet he had still managed to be the one _topping_ when he and Antonio had sex in the past.

…seriously, I didn't like the Netherlands at all, but how _totally awesome_ was that? To _completely_ _overpower_ the evil and super-strong conqueror of your country during _sexy-times_? That's fucking amazing! How the hell did he do that? Just… just _how_? Sure, I knew the Netherlands was the tallest nation of all and I also knew he could be very strong – hell, he even beat Antonio up a couple of times – but still, it was strange…

Want to know why? Well, when Antonio and I had just begun dating (for real, I mean), I also tried to be the one dominating.

Sometimes.

Every now and then.

…

O-okay, almost never, okay? Happy now? F-fuck…

So anyway, whenever I wanted to take over control of a heated, sexy situation, I would try to… I don't know, push him down on to the mattress and grab his ass and grind my hips to his own, and most of the times all of that actually went pretty well…

…until Antonio began to "fight" back.

You see, Antonio was the one more… _experienced_ of the two of us – female, male, he had seen it all, that man-whore – so he always knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he simply took a hold of my waist and flipped me over. While my (not even _that _impressive) "dominating" touches had all been careful and a bit shy, _his _touches had been more firm, confident. Antonio wasn't scared to plunge his hand into my pants to grab whatever he found in there and he wasn't scared to suck on my neck, my chest and my shoulders until I started to pant hysterically, either. Hell no. You _bet_ he wasn't.

Because h-he _knew_ that I liked it. I liked everything he did to me. And he also knew the way I liked it: during the… l-lovemaking, he always took his sweet, sweet time to explore the rest of my body during sex, just to discover even more sensitive places to touch, just to make me breath a bit heavier and to make me shiver and sigh just a _tad_ more erotically…

But I… I _wasn't_ that experienced. I hadn't had as much sexual escapades as he had. I didn't know what I could do to make him whimper and beg for more while having sex with him…

…

…now don't get me wrong, I certainly had made him gasp more than once already, but that only happened when I was on my knees in front of him. Antonio said I was exceptionally good at… _that_.

…

God. I did not say that. I _sooo_ did not just say that.

…

Okay, fine, I _did _say that! I'm just a very nasty and perverted man, alright? S-so what!

…

Maybe I should already reserve a good spot for myself in the burning pits of _**hell**_.

…

Or France's House.

I preferred hell, though.

I clenched my hands into fists. G-goddammit, just look what merely being in _company_ of the Dutchman caused me to think! I became fucking horny as a sexual frustrated guy like me could possibly be, even though I knew the situation still hadn't changed whatsoever – Antonio was still mad, I was still in Amsterdam and the Netherlands was still a creepy bastard with weird, spiky hair and a gay bicycle.

…maybe he used the bicycle to pick up girls with. Or guys. Or toddlers.

But enough of all of this! I demanded an explanation of the Netherlands already!

I hesitated a bit, but then I finally grabbed one of the Netherlands' sleeves and yanked it forcefully. And I didn't even blink when the intimidating nation looked me in the eyes.

'S-so tell me…' I mumbled, quietly but also so very _courageously, _'…how did you do it?'

**xXx**

The Netherlands frowned, tapped his chin and looked up into the sky for a moment, again looking like he was about to tell me something he'd rather not tell me at all. Then he finally gave a small nod and hum, as if he and himself had agreed on something.

'Okay. Romano.' he started and put down a large hand on top of my head, '…I'm really flattered that you came to me to ask me about how I used to _do_ that Spanish bastard of yours until he couldn't see straight anymore, but as glorious as that fact may be, I don't think I should tell you.'

'What? Why not!' I shrieked (with the well-known _manly_ voice of _shrillness_) and pushed his hand off my head.

He shrugged – he sure shrugged a lot, that asshole – and sighed. 'Well, because whenever Spain and I had sex, it was _far, so very FAR _away from "making love" that it even amazes _me _that I used to do it like that. I think you wouldn't like to hear it.'

'I-I don't care! I can handle it, dammit! I want to know how you did it with Spain so that I can do it with him just like that! Hadn't I told you that already? That's the whole purpose of this visit from me to you: _you_ giving _me_ advice on how to dominate Spain! Remember?'

He gave me a confused look. 'Of course. But… well, I thought you (_god, getting nauseous again_) _loved_ Spain.'

'W-what does that have to do with any of this!' I said, quickly covering my blushing cheeks.

'Everything.' The Netherlands stared at me. '…Romano, _you_ have sex with Spain because you (_oh, my poor, poor stomach_) love him and want to be with him. _I _had sex with him because I wanted to _destroy_ the fucking bastard. Now, I don't think _you _want to destroy him, do you?'

'N-no!'

'That's what I thought.' The Dutchman matter-of-factly said and grabbed a new cigarette from a small box of cigarettes, sticking out of his jacket, '…so I'm _**not **_going to give you advice on how to top Spain – I'd only tell you how to _**kill and humiliate and torture **_that Spanish lunatic during sex. And you won't do that, anyway. So yeah. I'm sorry.'

I glared at him and I know the disappointment must have been _beaming_ right off of my face, since I was feeling pretty fucking _upset_. What? Was _that_ why I came all the way to the Netherlands for? To get a lame "yeah-sorry-but-you-must-be-this-tall/hateful-towards-Spain-to-get-some-advice-of-me" -response from some sarcastic Dutch guy?

What the fuck was up with that! No way I was satisfied with that!

The Netherlands saw the angered and frustrated look on my face and I suddenly heard him growl dangerously, in irritated compliance.

'Jesus. I always had thought you were a pain in the ass, but now I know for _sure _you are. Okay, you stubborn brat, so you still want to know how I fucked your precious Spaniard? Fine! I'll tell you!'

He inhaled deeply and looked like some kind of scary _demon from the depths of the fucking underworld _when he breathed out a few long, grey plumes of cigarette-smoke. After that, he twisted his lips into a wicked little smile, a smile that made me shiver and tense up immediately. I gulped. H-holy crap.

I never changed my facial expression, though. I had no time to show that jerk I was scared to death of him - and of the words that could come out of his mouth.

'What do you _think_, Romano?' he snarled darkly, almost crushing his cigarette between his fingers, '…do you think Spain and I used to sit around the table to gently discuss the matter of who was going to top who before dragging ourselves to the bedroom? Hell no! We hated each other's guts too much for that kind of crap! Sure, we _wanted_ to have sex with the other because we both knew we were _freakishly_ good fucks, but we also wanted to be the one topping! And so, we used a lot of violence to decide who would be the one topping – we _always _did_._'

I breathed in slowly, but much to my dismay, it still sounded like a gasp. 'So… d-do you mean that you and Spain actually… _raped _each other, every… every single time?'

'Oh no. I wouldn't call it "rape".' He shook his head and I was bewildered to notice how _calm _the Dutch guy all of a sudden seemed to be, '…I'm only saying that we most of the time just had very brutal, tiresome fights during the sex. It was rough and awful and hateful and my _god_, did I _hate_ it whenever that bastard managed to win every now and then… but really, the sex was mutually wanted.'

'Oh. O-okay.' I muttered, feeling strangely relieved to hear that.

The Netherlands snorted. 'Hey, maybe that's some sort of consolation to you, Romano: at least we both _wanted_ it, either one way or the other.'

I nodded a bit. '…yeah. I-I guess…'

'So there you have it.' The Dutchman said, '…I told you all you have to know about me and Spain. Maybe it's also nice to tell you that I almost always won these sex-fights, especially when he started to get weaker over time and I only got stronger.'

'How's that supposed to be _nice _to tell! That's not _nice _at all!' I grumbled, looking up at him.

'Who said anything about you and your opinion? I meant nice for _me_, runt. I just love reminding myself that I topped Spain.' he grinned, gnawing on the already small stump of cigarette between his lips, '…hm, I don't know why, but I sure hope he has learned a thing or two from me – _sexually_.'

'Tssk.' I rolled my eyes mockingly and thoughtlessly rubbed the – still somewhat sore – spot on my shoulders, '…Spain's the most passionate country in the world! What could he have _possibly_ learned from you?'

'Well. That biting into your lover's shoulders _really hard_ can give the both of you a _huge_ kick, for example.' the Netherlands explained, and blinked confusedly with his eyes when I all of a sudden spread my eyes wide open in shock and grabbed my shoulder a bit tighter.

Holy fucking _shit_!

**xXx**

It was way past lunchtime when the Netherlands and I finally sat down somewhere to have our lunch

…but not at a restaurant or a lunchroom or something. Nooo. Of course not – that would be too expensive for the stingy, penny-pinching Dutchman. So instead, he and I bought some _poffertjes _from a nearby stand. _Poffertjes_ were very small, hot baby-pancakes, covered with powdered sugar and a lump of butter. A cute girl gave me and the Netherlands each a carton plate with at least ten shares of the sweet things on it, and to be very honest… they didn't smell or looked outspokenly _bad_.

Hell, when we sat down at the same bench we had been sitting all afternoon, I discovered that the _poffertjes_ were actually even kind of _tasty_. They tasted just like… well, _pancakes_, just like I had expected, only a bit more greasy and oily.

But I still hated to eat them, of course.

Since it was _evil,_ _**Dutch**_ food.

_And_ since the Netherlands had proven himself to be/have been a huge jackass, who apparently not only had fought a lot of fights with Antonio and broke his sister's heart by _banging_ that same Spanish bastard, but even rode** a fucking **_**pink **_**bicycle **these days that probably was possessed by the horrible spirits of fallen gay people that once died during a "Spice up Your Bike!~"-fest.

Sponsored by Poland, France and the Northern part of Italy.

Because _you bet _Feliciano would love the idea of painting his car pink, that fucking fag with his stupid faggy, wurst-slaughtering boyfriend who wasn't angry at him.

…

U-ugh…

I exhaled gloomy, probably sounding just as low-spirited as I felt I was. I poked a _poffertje_ with the end of my plastic fork carelessly, staring at the plate on my lap in silence. My forehead winkled a bit when one of the small, sweet treats fell on the ground, thanks to my meddlesome poking. Great. Just fucking great. Crap. I just couldn't get a fucking break.

The Netherlands (who quickly kicked the thing lying on the ground to the already glaring, murderous _pigeons of smothering poopdeaths_), furrowed his brows when he saw me acting this unthinkingly and jabbed my upper-arm with his – ew! – butter-covered fork.

'Yo, Romano. What's wrong with you? You look like crap.'

I shot an angry look at the Dutchman, moving away from him simultaneously. 'As if you're so fucking nice to look at, you jerk! And stop touching me with that nasty thing already, dammit!'

'Oh. Sorry.'

He put the fork back into his mouth, ignored my outraged reaction to that ('EW! GROSS! YOU SICK FREAK!') and put on a straight face.

'Romano. Not that it is any of my business or that I care or something, but how's Spain doing these days?'

I shrunk, I just know I did. But I tried to keep it cool, sat up a little bit more and casually put another _poffertje_ into my mouth.

'T-the bastard is doing good, I guess.'

At least good enough to chuck me out of the house, dammit.

The Netherlands tilted his head. 'Yeah? You _sure_ he's doing fine? Even after all that has been said today at the European Parliament?'

'European Parliament?' I now actually turned to look at him, a worried feeling creeping up on me instantly, '…w-what do you mean? What did the European Parliament do?'

The Netherlands seemed to be surprised. 'What, didn't you hear it from your boss yet? It has been confirmed by the big bosses of Europe that the financial crisis was even worse for a couple of countries than they had expected it to be and most of these nations are in pretty deep shit right now, since today the European Parliament has _demanded _these nations to pay up their debts to Europe as fast as possible, regardless of their economical health.'

I stared at him, my heart throbbing panicky as if somebody had kicked it really, _really_ hard.

'Has got something to do with the euro, I suppose.' the Netherlands concluded easily and gave a content look to his empty plate. 'Man, I fucking love _poffertjes_.'

'What countries… what countries are in that pretty deep shit you spoke of?' I said, my voice trembling unsteadily.

Of course, the Dutchman was _just_ busy sucking the powered sugar off his fingers and didn't say anything before he had finished licking them off. He probably knew that this information meant a lot to me, so the damn bastard took his fucking time cleaning up those stupid fingers of his, before smiling smugly at me.

'Well. For starters, Greece's still having problems, of course. And Ireland – boy, did _he_ get himself into trouble. Portugal isn't doing fantastic either…

…

…

…oh, and Spain is a mess, too.'

F-fucking mean pausing bastard, dammit!

'B-but how's that possible!' I cried out agitated, even though I already had this distressing suspicion _somewhere_ in my mind, '…he… he was doing just fine the last couple of weeks!'

The Dutch nation wasn't impressed and took my plate from me to throw it away.

'And _today_, Romano?' he asked me when he came back from his (annoyingly _long_) walk to the street-litterbin and stood still in front of me, '…haven't you noticed anything strange about that tomato-bastard when you left him this morning? Come on, you have to have seen _something_ that wasn't quite right.'

After hearing this, I got a bit upset at first: I feared that the evil Dutchman had – apparently – been very much aware of the huge fight I had with Antonio this morning _all this fucking time_, which would be painfully embarrassing for me. I also thought the jerk was trying hard to make things even _worse_ by making stupid, hurtful remarks about it…

…until I suddenly remembered what Antonio's face looked like, before he kicked me out of the bedroom.

It had looked tired. Weary. Flustered – no, _very_ flustered. Now that I think about it, his face had suddenly started to get mortifying, deep red, just when I went away.

O-oh god. Did that mean that his fever had kicked in again? Right after I had left the room? Right after I had left the House? Right after I had left things between us like they were _now_?

Then…

Then why hadn't that idiot called me yet! Why hadn't he told me already! Was he really _this_ prideful? That was nothing like Antonio… I mean, sure, he certainly must had _some_ sense of honor and no, he didn't like it at all to hear something mean about himself/his country (and _good god, _I could tell), but he normally wasn't very clear about things like that…

Wait a minute.

Maybe…maybe Antonio really _was_ trough with me. Maybe he didn't call me because he didn't want me to be near him anymore. Maybe he'd rather suffer all by himself than with somebody like _me_ to his side.

A depressing thought, but that, combined with some other stuff that was roaming free in my head, actually made me kind of _angry_ for some reason.

'Romano? You okay?' The Netherlands' heavy gaze landed on me again. '…shit, you sure are acting strange today. Even stranger than usual.'

'I had a fight with Spain this morning.' I all of a sudden blurted out, avoiding his gaze as I tightened my grip around my knee.

'Oh. Really?'

He sounded surprised in a very _bored_ kind of way, but at least he was_ trying_ to act like he was interested. Fair enough to me.

'Yeah.' I cleared my throat. '…I told Spain I was going to visit you. He didn't like it and forbade me to go. I got pissed off and offended his stupid country. Then _he_ got mad as well and told me to get the fuck out of his House.'

'Troublesome.'

'…and now… now I'm wondering why the _hell_ I've been feeling this fucking _guilty_ about all that has happened all day long, since I figured everything I yelled at him this morning actually had been _true_, _right on the spot, _even.'

The Netherlands smiled a bit. 'Is that so? What did you tell him then?'

'That he used to be a manipulative bastard. That he always preferred me and Belgium over the other countries – like you or, let's say, Chile – and that he's as poor as a fucking Spanish church mouse right now.' I raised my face to look at the Netherlands with a huge scowl, '…it's all _true_, isn't it?'

'Absolutely.' The Dutchman nodded decisively.

'So…' I licked my lips fanatically, '…if it's all (at least very likely) to be true, then why did he react like a total jerk on it, dammit!'

'Probably because of the _way_ you said it.' the Netherlands prompted – a bit too quickly to my liking, '…I mean, you sure are one annoying, bulldozing _bitch_ whenever you open that damn mouth of yours. I sure hope it can also say something _other _than the usual hateful things it's normally spouting out.'

I sputtered. 'Y-yeah, well, t-that's _still_ no reason to kick me out!'

'Hell, I'd have kicked you out for _less_ than that.'

'Shut _up_, dammit!'

I made a irritated, grunting noise and resolutely got up from the bench, wiping my sticky hands (damn those friggin' _poffertjes_) off on a small piece of serviette.

The Dutchman watched me, frowning a bit. 'You look like you're up to something.'

_Oh well. __**You**__ look like an asshole_. I wanted to say, but decided not to when I saw the Netherlands' facial expression was already _far_ from happy or content (I bet he hadn't planned this meeting to end like this, he had probably still wanted to visit some coffee shops and whorehouses and shit like that with me).

'I-I'm going home.' I said instead.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Back to Spain, huh?'

'No.' I took a deep breath and shook my head, '…I'm going _home_, Netherlands. To Italy.'

He stared at me with an unreadable and uncomfortable glint in his hazel-colored eyes. I thought he would say something to me before I would take off, something like "suit yourself" or "whatever – do I look like I care?" or even "you and I both know Italy's not _home_ to you"…

…but he didn't say a word anymore.

He just nodded and abruptly jumped on his sister's bike, giving me a final, hasty wave of his hand, his scarf fluttering in the wind and his arrogant, mighty figure seemingly _owning_ the complete Dam Square and all of it's visitors as he rode away, into the far, sunny distance…

…

…and it all would have been really cool and impressive if he just hadn't been on that fucking girlish, testosterone-killing bike.

Oh, and if there wasn't some teenage girl (that seemed to come out of _nowhere_) running after him, screaming something in Dutch.

Wait.

So it hadn't been Belgium's bike.

…

Time to leave.

**xXx**

There were a lot of weird feelings spinning around in my head when I left the Netherlands and drove back to Italy, to my home country.

Like…

Confusion, because of the unusual day I had spend with the Netherlands (damn bastard apparently stole bikes in his free time, what the hell).

Disappointment, because the day hadn't been like I thought it would be: I didn't get something like an advice, but I _did_ get a very unsettling, disturbing image of the way Antonio's sexlife used to be with the Dutchman.

I also experienced a lot of fear, because… well, the Netherlands was a scary man. And country. And there had been _**pigeons**_. Holy shit. I think I got myself a new, feathery trauma.

Still, there was one thing I felt the most of all the crappy feelings I was feeling, and that was a wild, complicated mix between despair, anger, unwillingness and a fucking _truckload_ of stress.

Why hadn't Antonio called me yet?

Just why, _why_ hadn't that Spanish bastard called me yet?

It was a thought that had popped up out of the blue when I was still in Amsterdam, but it didn't leave me alone anymore now.

It's just… normally, whenever Antonio and I had a fight, he would always call me sooner or later, bawling and begging on the phone to me to please, please forgive him, please come back to him, please don't smash anything valuable up again and to please explain to him again what he had done wrong because that bastard was just so fucking oblivious about everything, dammit.

But now…

Now he still hadn't called me.

He hadn't even _texted_ me yet.

Why not?

I know I had said things that could have been painful (but true) to him, but… but is it really _that _necessary to… not-call me at all anymore because of that? Sure, I could call him, but, well, I didn't have any call-credit. So I actually couldn't.

…

…wh-what! It's not like I had that many persons to call, anyway. Feliciano sometimes called me and all of the other times Antonio was the one that called me, so I didn't _have_ to have call-credit, dammit!

…except for situations like these, of course. Then even a little bit of call-credit could be incredibly handy.

…

…o-oh well. It's not like I could change very much to the current circumstances right now, so I guess I'd just go home, to Italy, and get a good night's sleep.

If I'd even _got_ any sleep at all.

Ugh…

**xXx**

There it was.

Big and stylish and huge and intimidating and white and with an absolutely superb architecture: me and Feliciano's House.

I stared at it for a little while when I had gotten out of the car and shivered involuntary. R-right. I was back home again.

God. It had been months, if not a whole year since the last time I had been here. I had always been at Antonio's place, since his House was just… w-warmer, more comfortable and… and less intimidating than my own House. It also wasn't as lonely at Antonio's place as it was at mine, since Feliciano was pretty much living with Germany and Prussia nowadays – he was seldom in Italy. Just like me.

…now that I think about it, I wonder when our boss would scold us for that. Maybe never. I don't think he really cares.

I frowned and put my hands into my pockets, slowly walking closer to the entrance of the House as I searched for my phone.

And then I suddenly stopped walking when I realized something horrible.

My mobile phone. Where was my mobile phone? Why the hell couldn't I find my…

Oh god.

Oh my fucking _god_.

It was still at Antonio's place.

I had forgotten to bring it with me.

During all of the commotion of this morning, I must have left it in the bathroom.

…

SHIT! Shit shit shit _shit!_

Fuck, no wonder I hadn't got a call of him – I had to have a _fucking phone _for that! GODDAMMIT!

I started to panic and felt like running a couple of rounds around the House or pulling out all of my hair to relieve some of the immense frustration that had been built-up inside of me, because _who knows _how many times Antonio had called me already! Who knows just how miserable, angry and ignored he had be feeling right now…

A-and on top of that, he also had become very sick again, if I had to believe the Netherlands! Crap, I almost forget about that…

That's it! I-I had to go back! I had to go to Spain! I don't care that Antonio told me not to come, I knew him well enough to be sure that he would be glad to see me, he just had to cool off a bit, that's all, he'd definitely want to see me, and hug me, and tell me he was sorry and hear me tell him I was sorry just as well and then we would make things up again and _I had to go now!_

I wanted to twirl around and get back into Antonio's car with a speed that all Italians could be very proud of…

…when I suddenly noticed a figure sitting in front of the door of my and Feliciano's House.

I…

I recognized him right away.

**xXx**

He… he looked awful. Really, really awful.

His chin was resting on his arms, his arms were wrapped around his knees protectively and his brown, curly hair seemed to be the only part of his body that wasn't looking completely, absolutely _devastated_. He shivered and sniveled and even though he must have seen me dashing towards him (and making a complete fool out of myself as always, dammit), I didn't see anything of… of recognition back in his dull, lifeless eyes.

I heard I was panting a little when I practically dropped myself on my knees, on the tiles in front of him, and I put my hands on his arms, carefully shaking him in an attempt to get him out of the disturbing stupor he was currently residing in.

'Spain… Spain, i-it really is you! Spain… hey, Spain, can you hear me?'

He stared at me with empty eyes, didn't even move. My heart jumped when I felt the heat emitting from his face and I shuddered when I saw the tiny sweat drops pearling on his forehead. O-oh crap, _crap_...

I cursed under my breath and shook him more violently, holding back some stinging tears I didn't even know I was holding back.

'G-goddammit, A-Antonio, snap out of it already! C-come on, wake up! W-why are you here, why aren't you in bed, why didn't you call Belgium or France to take c-care of you, y-you stupid, stupid asshole, w-why didn't you give yourself a fucking break, a-aren't you suffering enough already, y-you and your stupid, fucked-up economy… you… you…!'

I screwed my eyes shut and squeezed his arms desperately, hoping to hear something, _anything_ of that… that annoying, cheerful voice of his, that could tell me he was going to be okay, or… or that could tell me that I shouldn't cry – n-not that I was crying or something, o-of course not…

Then I all of a sudden felt two cold hands, that were carefully placed upon my wet face. They were slow and shaky in their movements, but the familiar fingers gave tender, caressing touches to my cheeks, touches I… I really _needed_ at the moment.

I widened my eyes and made a choking kind of sound when the hands took my chin and gently forced me to look up, right into the tired, but finally at least somewhat brightened eyes of Antonio, who gave me a very small, very unsure smile.

'…ah, hello there…'

He brushed some strands of hair out of my face and pulled it closer to place a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, his smile getting a bit broader.

'…Lovino.~'

A warm, soothing feeling was sent through my body the minute he uttered my human name and I hiccupped, letting my tears run free now.

'A-Antonio…' I stammered hoarsely, barely able to see anything clear now that those stupid, fucking tears kept getting in my way, and grabbed the front of his cold shirt, hesitating for a split-second before pressing my forehead against his own. He felt fucking burning _hot_, but I couldn't care less and refused to pull away.

'Lovino…' Antonio sighed, locking eyes with me, '…ah, did you know you left your phone at my place?'

I nodded a bit, but wasn't able to say anything.

'You… you shouldn't do that anymore, Lovi… It's very difficult to call you up to say sorry if you don't have your phone with you…'

I nodded again and moved closer to him, my lower-lip quivering.

Antonio automatically sat up a bit more to let me get closer to him and lowered his legs, pulling me in between them in one swift, smooth movement. Then he nuzzled my face without letting go of it, pressing quick, soft kisses on the red skin of my cheeks and used his thumb to wipe away a tear.

'M-me, too… I-I'm… I'm so s-sorry, I–' I stuttered quickly (because _this_ time, I _wouldn't_ let my horrible, good-for-nothing pride stop me from saying it, dammit), only to be cut off with a kiss that accidentally landed on my lips.

O-oh.

Call me weird or a prude or a fucking hopeless romantic, but the sudden kiss surprised me, made me look up at Antonio with softened eyes and an even _more_ intense blush that colored my face bright-red.

Antonio looked back at me - also a bit surprised, also blushing madly - but he didn't pull back. He just smiled against my mouth, closed his eyes and politely asked me if it was okay to deepen the kiss by running his tongue lazily over my lips, still stroking my face with one hand while wrapping his free arm around my waist, slowly pulling me fully against him.

I made a soft, whimpering noise, I think, but I complied right away. I relaxed in his careful embrace and moved my arms up around his neck, sighing longingly when I pressed myself firmer against the older nation and opened my mouth a bit.

For a moment, I was sure I was going to fucking _faint_ when he entered my mouth lovingly, sharing a _oh so very_ long, passionate, lingering kiss with me that made me grasp the fabric of the back of his shirt eagerly, in silent excitement.

Then he broke the kiss off – by giving me another quick kiss on the cheek and by hugging me tightly right after that.

'It's… it's okay… I-I've already forgiven you, my love...' he whispered, breathing a bit strangely, '…besides… you were actually… pretty much right about most things you said, anyway… the reason I got angry was just… ah, how should I put it…'

'T-the way I said it, right?' I muttered timidly.

He smiled mildly and gave a small nod, but then his smile disappeared, as soon as it had showed up. It made room for that same scary stupor from earlier and… and I almost panicked, hastily pressing a hand against his forehead to check just how severe his fever was at the moment.

Oh _god. _I swallowed and got out of the romantic daze when his hot skin burnt against the palm of my hand. H-holy fucking shit, his temperature was abnormal! I-it almost _hurt_ me!

'Y-you stupid bastard, y-you shouldn't kiss like there's nothing wrong with you when you're _this_ fucking hot, dammit!' I hissed, getting up from the ground with shaky legs and pulled the now drastically weakening Spaniard up with me.

'A-ah, you're probably right, ahahahaha…' he agreed, totally drained, yet cheerful, '…but you looked like you needed it, my lovely Lovi…'

I flushed and wanted to deny that at the top of my voice, of course…

…but then Antonio decided to lose consciousness and get limp for a second, making me gasp for breath when the somewhat bigger nation almost _crushed_ me against the door.

'S-shit…' I grumbled, tightening my grip around Antonio's sweaty upper body as I started to fumble with my keys and front door.

…

I suddenly sensed that this would become a very weird, nerve-wrecking evening for both me and Antonio.

Oh _god_.


	15. Hiney

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Happy 2011, everyone! _^^ _I hope your year will be as fabulous as I hope my year will be, maybe even more fabulous, since you all __**are **__fabulous for spending so much time reading my doorstopper-fic (I mean, I must have written a total book already – LOOK AT THEM PAGES, OH GOD)!_

_A/n2: I actually got a __**funny**__ and unusual __**~funky~**__ butt-song for a change, yay!~ But seriously, why are most songs about butts and asses so… goddamn __**creepy**__? Is it that hard for artists to make cute butt-songs? _*pouts*

_A/n3: …I have over 300 reviews. O-oh my god. You guys are amazing!~ Thank you so, so much! I-I don't know what to say… So I'll just smile like a moron and poke the screen of my laptop. _^^ *pokes the ever-living crap out of her laptop-screen*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XV:

_**Hold on to Your Hiney  
**__**(Wilson Pickett)**_

So.

As soon as Antonio and I got into my House (which wasn't an easy thing to do, since I couldn't find my stupid keys and the door didn't give in and Antonio was constantly falling in and out of consciousness and I actually wanted to kiss and cuddle the idiotic man with everything I had inside of me until the both of us were out of breath and why the fuck did I want to do such sappy things dammit), I took a deep breath and looked at the weakened, feverish Spaniard dangling on my shoulder, my hand enclosing itself a bit firmer around his lower arm.

'…A-Antonio.'

He stared back at me with a feeble smile, nodding encouraging while almost tripping over his own feet.

'Ah… w-what is it, Lovi? And w-why are you looking so worried? You… you don't have to be, my sweet love… ah, come here for a second…'

I gulped when his free hand effortlessly maneuvered my face closer to his and even shuddered a bit when his moist lips found mine again, kissing me affectionately.

I didn't stop him, though. Hell, I even let him push me gently against one of my walls, my eyes half-closed as I shyly kissed him back.

Dammit. It still amazed me how Antonio succeeded in taking the lead in these kind of situations, always, even now, when he was feeling as shitty as could be. I didn't know how he did it. I mean, I obviously was the stronger one of the two of us right now, mentally and physically and even financially – no, _especially_ financially. I had to take care of him. I had to make sure he was going to be fine.

And yet, who was the one that still initiated the kisses, the touches, the sweet whispers? The one who wasn't afraid to tell me he cared for me? The one that always was the first to apologize, even _now _and even though he actually didn't have that much to apologize for (well, at least not as much as I _myself_ had)?

Antonio. St-stupid, fucking, caring, k-kind Antonio. _F-fuck_.

This only proved that I had so much yet to learn. This also made me wonder if I was _ever_ going to be able to top the Spanish nation – it seemed like an impossible thing to do – although all of those other nations didn't have had a lot of trouble with it…

…b-but! They didn't… um… _see_ him the way I see him… A-and I bet Antonio didn't see them the way he sees me. W-whatever that way might be. T-the hell should I know, dammit, I-I didn't even know what the fuck I was doing anymore.

Which wasn't very handy in this particular situation.

…

Anyway…

When I actually _did_ start to wonder what the fucking _hell_ I was doing (making out with a very wiggly, sick Spaniard, who was – apparently – still fit enough to let his freakishly experienced tongue do the talking, just _didn't_ seem to be such a very wise thing to do right now), Antonio broke off the kiss with a smile and a last peck on my lips, placing his trembling hands on the (stylishly wallpapered) wall, right next to the sides of my face, for a bit more support.

'F-feeling better, Lovi?~'

W-what the hell? I stared at him in disbelieve and gritted my teeth, giving him a soft push against his chest.

'A-are you seriously asking _me_ if I feel better when _you're_ the one who's fucking _swaying_ back and forth here? R-really, Antonio?'

He smiled sheepishly, softly rubbing his nose against a burning cheek of mine.

'Y-you are my precious lover, Lovino… of course I'll ask you things like that. That's what lovers do, right?'

'S-s-shit, do you even care about how you're feeling _yourself_?' I asked him (with a ridiculously flushed face).

'How I'm feeling myself…' Antonio repeated and frowned, looking confused. '…ah, w-what do you mean, my love…'

Good _god_!

I groaned and grabbed his face with unsteady hands, catching his full attention. 'W-what I'm trying to ask you is…how are_ you_ feeling, Antonio? Are you feeling good right now?'

He blinked, thought about it for a while and finally beamed a semi-bright smile at me. 'Why, I'm feeling f-fantastic, Lov-'

'_Don't_ you fucking lie to me, you idiot, 'cause I _will _kick your ass if you do!' I interrupted him and aggressively flicked his nose. That's right, I fucking flicked him into_ damnation_, dammit! Ha!

He saw that I meant it and his smile froze somewhat, becoming a bit more nervous. 'O-oh. Okay… I – could you please stop the flicking? – I actually feel… pretty bad, Lovino. Everything's spinning around me, spinning like a merry-go-round, isn't that… special? Ahahaha… ha… ooh, horses!~'

His fake laughter slowly died away somewhere in his throat and he made a soft, grunting noise as he let his head fall on my shoulder all of a sudden.

'N-no! Antonio, seeing everything spin around you like a freaking merry-go-round _isn't_ special, you weirdo! I-it's _scary_! It's downright _creepy_ to see fucked-up hallucinations like… like those _horses _you're talking about, dammit!' I snapped at him, my voice a big higher pinched than I wanted it to be, and thought about it for a second before I gave him a hesitant hug while trying to ignore the amused little chuckle that came out of the bastard when he noticed.

'A-are you… _hugging_ me, Lovi?'

'No! It's an assault! I'm… I'm assaulting you! By… holding you! It's fucking _deadly_!'

He simply ignored what I said and gave a kiss to the side of my face. 'Y-you _are_ hugging me… A-ah, aren't you cute, Lovino… such a caring cutie…'

'S-shut up, dammit…' I muttered, but returned the gesture by (_superultrafastlikeohmygod_) kissing his own cheek nevertheless. H-he kind of deserved it, dammit…

…and right now, I didn't really feel like acting too much like the temperamental asshole I usually was, anyway: Antonio was in pain, seeing carousels and yet he was _still_ complimenting and kissing me, so I'd better show him I genuinely cared about him, about his everything, about his total person, no matter how weird, chaotic and scary that same person could be.

Because… that's what lovers _do_, d-dammit… they take care of the one they l-l-love, in spite of everything… or… or something like that… I-I mean, I… I hated to see him like this, all drained-out and exhausted because of the stupid things that were going on in his damn country…

'Stupid… stupid bastard… I… I…'

I sighed and gave him another hug, this time a longer one, a hug in which I actually pressed our bodies together and stroke his hair and felt his heartbeat speed up against my own chest. The surprised, but also blissful look on his flustered face, told me…w-well, it told me enough, let's… let's keep it at that...

And that loving look of his gave me the final push to say… the words I had always secretly wanted to say first.

'I…y-you… love you… s-so much…c-can't stand it, dammit… to s-see you in…p-pain…'

I tightened my hug just as resolutely as the way I squeezed my eyes shut, not caring at all about the embarrassing things I had said and the even more embarrassing things Antonio started to stammer because of my words, all while cuddling me back enthusiastically.

'L-Lovi… I love you too, Lovi! Ah… I love you very, very much… and… and it's so _nice_, Lovi, it just feels so very nice…' He looked down at me with a very happy, delighted smile, touching my face ever so slightly with feather-like touches, '…to be the one who puts the "too" at the end of the "I love you"-sentence, for a change… ahahaha…'

I…

I just didn't react on that.

…

Okay, m-maybe I nodded and smiled a little bit, but that's all! I swear!

**xXx**

'Okay…'

I cleared my throat and softly pushed Antonio away from me (and then I pushed a little more aggressively since that bastard was perfectly fine with the closeness of our bodies, that fucking pervert, dammit) and gave him a stern glare (while shoving his eager hands off me because _goddammit_, enough is enough already!).

'A-Antonio. You… you're probably cold, right? And you're sweaty and tired and you can use some comfort as well, right? Right?'

I stared at him with the most serious look I could muster.

Antonio's eyes were a little hazy, but they still looked back at me. That was good. He frowned a bit and seemed to be pretty stupefied by my questions, though.

'Um… well, yes, I do feel… rather run-down, yes…'

I nodded and started to fidget. 'S-so do I. I… I'm also tired and sweaty and cold.'

Antonio's interest was piqued – and how. He chuckled, seductively winking at me (and despite himself not even _failing_ at it, d-dammit). 'A-ah, Lovino… you naughty boy, you know that saying suggestive things like that make me want to do dirty _activities_ with you!~'

'S-shut it!' I snarled, fidgeting even more, '…I-I just want to point out that the both of us need to get a shower or bath already, dammit!'

'That would be nice, yes…' Antonio mused absentmindedly, grabbing a curl from his own hair and pulling it down until he could look at it, '…ah, washing my hair doesn't sound like a bad idea… don't you think so too, my love?'

'I-I don't know, I'm… I'm not… bothered by the way it looks now or something…' I muttered – because it was true, his hair was great and bouncy and that was unfair since the idiot _never_ put something special in his curls, his hair just always looked like he had stand in front of the mirror for at least four hours, dammit, when all he did when he had woken up (and actually _was_ standing in front of a mirror) was run a hand through his hair and say something like "Boo-yeah, hot stuff!~", like the self-confident moron he was.

And then I would smack him.

But I digress…

'So…'

Antonio thought about all of my stammering for a while before giving me a cautious smile, leaning a bit forward.

'…are you saying that we should take a bath, Lovino?'

'…pretty much.' I still mumbled unclearly, looking at the tiles of my floor like a fucking _fair maiden_, what the_ fuck_.

'Taking a bath…' Antonio purred, poking my face. 'As in… _together_, Lovi?~'

I blushed, right on cue. 'Yes. I mean, no! I-I mean, yes. I mean… I-I don't know, dammit, I-I'm just saying that we both have to wash ourselves! In a bathtub! Or a shower! O-one thing or the other!'

'As in… _together_, Lovi?~' Antonio cooed again.

I puffed my reddened cheeks. 'Fuck you.'

'As in… _togeth_—'

'Oh _god_, SHUT UP ALREADY!'

**xXx**

…but yes, I _did_ mean it as in "_together_".

…

S-shut it, I had my fucking reasons, dammit! I could explain, alright?

You see, t-taking a bath together wasn't exactly something extremely _rare_ for me and Antonio to do. I'm not saying we _always_ shared the bathroom like this – hell no, that grown baby annoyed the crap out of me with his playing around with the foam whenever we did take a bath together – but… well, it happened, every once in a while.

Most of the time because the idiot had whined about it for about three fucking days because he wanted to wash me, or because he wanted to do… o-other… i-interesing things with me in the bathtub/shower cabin… but most of the time, he wanted me to join him in the bathroom because he wanted me to reflect on things with him.

Yes. Antonio reflected on his life and fears and dreams… _during his freaking bathing-session. _

He said it was calming; I just found it weird. But I joined him nevertheless, since I was his lover.

…

It wasn't like I secretly hoped that he tried to get into my pants after the reflecting-part. Hell no. Fuck you for thinking that.

…

I didn't stop him whenever it _did_ happen, though.

A-anyway, what I'm trying to say is…

Those were all very good, valid reasons why I sometimes took baths with Antonio, but now I had an even better excus— I mean, reason:

He wasn't able to properly wash himself in the state he was now. So I kindly decided to offer him my help – and he greedily accepted that offer right away, just as I thought he would do, that… that _churlish _bastard, dammit.

And that was _good_. Very good.

Because…

…because maybe, just maybe, he would tell me a bit more about that whole dark, disturbing, creepy past _and_ personality of his, while reflection on himself.

Maybe… maybe he'd tell me _his _side of the story. That's what I wanted to hear. That's all, really.

So I tried it out.

**xXx**

Antonio was already sitting in the tub, that was now filled with hot, sweet-scenting water and a shitload of bath-foam, when I just started to unbutton my shirt with wavering, shaky hands.

It…

I-it was the only piece of cloth I was still wearing. My pants and other clothes were already lying in a corner of the bathroom, next to his own stupid clothes, completely dismissed.

So… it was up to me to lose this last piece of… shirt, I guess, and I would be butt-naked.

…

It was weird.

Even though I wasn't facing him right now, and even though the stupid bastard had seen me naked very often (very, very, _very _often, maybe even more often than I would like to admit), I still was _extremely_ aware of those curious eyes of his, watching me undress like he had never seen something so beautiful, so interesting before in his whole life.

I-I just knew he was observing me. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything either, but… but I _felt_ it. I felt his awaiting gaze, felt his _full-fucking-attention _on me, as I let out a throaty, embarrassed cough and quickly dropped my shirt on the tiles of the bathroom-floor.

…

Oh my _god_, I was so damn _naked_ now. It wasn't even funny just how totally _naked _I was. I felt so utterly exposed that I'd rather hide myself underneath the toilet-seat than do anything else. But that would be very weird, not to mention difficult to do, so I didn't.

The moment I had fully undressed myself, I heard Antonio make a content humming kind of sound. He also audibly stirred a bit restlessly in the water, which was noisy and reason enough for me to glare at him over my shoulder.

Just in time to see him tear his eyes away from my ass, up to my own eyes, giving me a fond little smile at the same time.

'Don't you just have the cutest butt of all, Lovi!~'

My face became very hot and for a moment, I considered covering my butt with my hands – but then I realized that would be very unpractical and maybe even a bit unflattering, so instead, I just ignored him, turned around – holy_ crap, _I even_ turned around, what the fuck_ – and shuffled closer to the bathtub, doing my very best to avoid looking at him right now for he would probably be too busy _gawking_ at something _else_, that goddamned pervert…

But I was wrong, because when I did look his way, Antonio hastily stood up from the water, made more room for me and gallantly offered me his hand, his other hand put away on his back.

'Ah, please allow me to help you into the tub, my love.'

God. His eyes smiled even more than his mouth did, d-dammit…

…

..t-they were pretty.

'T-the hell are you doing, moron…' I pouted, without turning away from the inviting hand in front of me, '…I-I can get into the tub by myself too, you know!'

He nodded, but spread his hand more nevertheless, giving me a hopeful look.

'I-idiot…' I muttered while blushing madly and carefully placing my hand into his, '…s-stupid idiot with your stupid gestures and stupid manipulative grin, dammit…'

Antonio only chuckled, gently closing his hand around mine as I stepped in.

**xXx**

The minute I had sat down into the tub, the eager Spaniard had smiled, twirled around in the bath and all of a sudden shoved his back against my chest. Just like that.

It… it really surprised me, dammit. Normally, _I _was the one who would be twirled around, who's body would be pulled against somebody's (Antonio's) broad chest, who would have two arms wrapped around him from behind, so… so this was a bit… n-new to me…

Of course, Antonio never lost the control over the situation as he immediately had grabbed my hands to fold them across his torso while blabbering about… tomato-shampoo or something ridiculous like that…

Usually, I'd have kicked or slapped him for saying or doing something so stupid and useless right away, but I found myself at a loss of words, especially when the vulnerable Spanish nation relaxed more and more into my arms, sometimes pressing an appreciating kiss on an upper arm of mine.

I… at… at first, I had been too scared to move or even _breathe_, so I just sat there, all tensed up, desperately trying to get a hold of the weird atmosphere…

…and then Antonio asked me if I could wash his hair for him, since my hands were "so soft and nice and lovely to feel!~" and since he was too weak to do it himself.

…I wasn't sure if it was just an excuse for him to make me do something for him, but he sure breathed heavier compared to an hour ago.

So I had agreed in doing so and grabbed a half-full bottle of shampoo from the small bath-basket – don't look at me, it was Feliciano's "fabulous" idea to get us such a freaking gayish bath-basket, dammit.

The blue bottle was my shampoo (blueberry-scented or shit like that) and the green one (mint-scented or whatever) was Feliciano's, so naturally, I picked Feliciano's – that ought to teach that little bastard a lesson for screwing around with Germany while I was at our place and probably would have been all alone if Antonio hadn't showed up in all of his feverish glory.

…

…of… of course, Feliciano would have been lonely just as well if he hadn't decided to practically move in with Germany and Prussia. He… he also would have been very alone in this huge House, if he had been here over the past I-don't-know-how-many months… all by himself… while I was with Antonio…

…

Well, I still used his shampoo, dammit. His bottle was fuller.

**xXx**

'Can… can I ask you something?'

I was a bit surprised to hear how soft and cautious my voice sounded when I uttered the sentence and swallowed, squirting some of Feliciano's shampoo into my hands before I looked somewhat down, at the curly mess that was Antonio's hair.

'Hm-hm…' Antonio nodded with a sigh, probably closing his eyes – he tended to do that whenever I washed his hair – when my hands slowly started to rub the shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp.

I gulped again, but forced myself to stay calm and to ask him the damn question already, dammit.

'Oh god, Lovino…' Antonio moaned, chuckling at the same time, '…ah, you are so very good with your hands, you kn—'

'S-so I went to the Netherlands today.' I blurted out.

Antonio got quiet.

'And… and he told me all kinds of things that had happened in the past.' I continued, letting my hands slip back into the water to let the shampoo soak into his hair for a bit longer. '…he… he told me about you and Belgium and you and him.'

'…ah, he did?' Antonio muttered, folding his hands together on his chest as he stared up to the ceiling.

'Y-yes.' I froze up for a second when his incomprehensible eyes met mine.

'Why did he tell you all of that?'

I sucked in my dry, somewhat clapped lower lip and ran my tongue over it before answering. 'Because I asked him to tell me.'

'Really?' A frown appeared on his face. It wasn't a confused, angry or surprised frown, but it still was a frown and I didn't like to see it on Antonio's face.

'Really.' I nodded.

'So…' Antonio never looked away from me, not even a second, '…so this question you want to ask me… it's about me and Femke and the Netherlands?'

'….k-kind of. Or… not really… U-ugh. It's… it's actually just about you. About how you used to be.' I couldn't stand the eye-contact any longer and focused my gaze on the showerhead, lying next to me in the water.

'Aha.'

His voice sounded thoughtful – which was just plain _freaky_. This was _Antonio_. He _never _sounded thoughtful. Hell, I always thought he _couldn't _sound (or _be_, for all that matters) thoughtful.

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and carried on. 'Because you… never really tell me something about… that side of you. That… that dark, creepy side of you. And… and I think that's weird, since you _do _act like a fucking scary bastard every now and then.'

He chuckled, but it didn't sound heart-felt. 'Ah, well… sorry for that, but I'm afraid that's just who I am, Lovino…'

'I-I know that's who you are!' I immediately replied, '…and I'm fine with it! I-I'm perfectly fine… with who you are!'

'Y-you are?'

'Yes, I am! I-I am, dammit… if I wasn't, I wouldn't have started dating you in the first place, you idiot…'

Another chuckle, but this time it sounded more open, more relieved. 'Ah, yes, of course, Lovi… of course…'

'Close your eyes.'

'…what?'

'Close your eyes, dammit!' I snapped, pointing to the showerhead in my hand, '…unless you like to get shampoo in your eyes, 'cause in that case, feel free to keep them open.'

Antonio stared at the showerhead. Then at me. Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes, that strange, but resigned smile still present as I lowered the showerhead.

**xXx**

A few minutes later, the tables had turned.

…or, should I say, the positions had.

After I was done washing Antonio's hair, he had sat up, made a swirly gesture with his finger at me that could mean either "please turn around so I can hold you like you held me just now" or "look at this, I'm stirring into an imaginary cup of coffee/tea/bucket of ice-cream and I'm loving every second of it!~".

…

I _assumed_ it was the first, so I had blushed, scowled and sputtered a bit, but in the end I had still turned around relatively easily.

S-shut up. He was sick. I shouldn't make things more difficult for him, dammit.

Anyway, when I was busy washing my hair – yes, I did it myself, Antonio was too fucking weak to even lift the freaking bottle of shampoo – I felt the Spaniard behind me rested his head on my shoulder, yawning.

I furrowed my brows a bit more. 'If you don't watch out, you'll have a mouthful of blueberry-shit within fucking seconds, moron.'

'Oh, that sounds delicious!~'

I rolled my eyes. 'Yeah, well, it _isn't_. So back off a bit, will you?'

'Alright, alright…' I felt the warmth of his body, pressed against my own, was taken away as he leaned back a bit more.

A couple of minutes passed in which I quickly got rid of the shampoo in my hair (I-I just wanted to feel him against me again, because… because n-now I was cold, dammit!) and in which Antonio didn't say anything. Anything at all.

But as soon as I had let go of the showerhead, I felt he pulled me against him again, his arms wrapping themselves around my frame, pressing my arms against the sides of my body. I let out a surprised gasp and wanted to snarl at him for squeezing me like some kind of fluffy… shit, I don't know, stress-ball or something, when he started to talk.

Softly. Barely audible.

So I instantly shut up.

'Lovino.' He sighed and nuzzled the side of my face, probably noticing how hot that part of me suddenly got, '…I know I should have told you about all that I am. I know that. And I also know that you're man enough to hear all of it.'

I bit the inside of my cheek, nodding.

'And I will tell you. I will tell you everything, Lovi, because that's what you want to know and that's what you deserve to know, as my lover.'

Still nodding.

'But… but not right now…' Antonio almost whispered now. '…please don't get me wrong, I really think we should have a conversation about this subject, but I'm not feeling good enough to tell you all about it right now.'

'So… when _will _you tell me?' I asked quietly.

'After I get better. And have thought about it some more. Okay?' He gave me a gentle, maybe even hopeful little squeeze, '…it's a difficult subject. It really is. I was such a powerful, dangerous nation… You know yourself how crazy I used to be. You know… how bloody my history is. So please, Lovino… bear with me for a while.'

'O-okay…' I awkwardly moved my hands until I was able to close my hands around his lower arms, '…okay. I'll wait.'

He kissed the back of my head. 'Thank you.'

'Yeah.'

'Ah, that shampoo really does taste like blueberry.'

'Told you.'

**xXx**

When we finally came out of the bath, it was already late. Usually, Antonio and I would already be sound asleep around this time, tangled up in the sheets and apparently drooling like motherfucking _dogs_, since I had discovered a couple of weeks ago that, _yes_, we both tended to drool during our sleep.

Well, it did explain the weird stains on the pillows.

…I think.

Oh god, now I've grossed myself out, dammit.

**xXx**

'S-so…' I said, when I left the bathroom with Antonio, '…we should go to bed.'

'We should, yes.' Antonio agreed, luckily enough a lot less wobbly than when I had found him on my doorstep earlier this evening.

I wanted to say something to him, but changed my mind and quickly walked over to my bedroom that was really just _my _bedroom and that wasn't Antonio's or even Feliciano's whatsoever, since I used to sleep totally alone in here – unless Feliciano whined about feeling lonely or something, dammit. Then I didn't sleep alone.

Or…

Or unless there was a handsome Spaniard who happened to be your boyfriend in the House. Like now.

But the Spanish boyfriend was very sick. I mean, I hadn't seen him this fucked-up in ages and today, I was even worried that sleeping together with me could cause bothersome things to him, like… like his fever going even farther up, for example…

So when he and I stood in front of the door of my bedroom, I all of a sudden spun around to look him straight in the eye (I probably scared him a bit while doing so, too) and took a deep breath.

'This… this is my bedroom.'

Antonio cocked his head when he saw the definite look on my face. 'Ah. And… um, is there a reason to be so serious about your bedroom, Lovino? Do you want me to give you feedback on the way you've decorated in there?'

I blinked. 'What? No, no!'

'Ah, I'm glad – you know how bad my sense of fashion is, ahahahaha…'

'Antonio.'

I pursed my lips together tightly and almost laughed when I saw the shocked look on the Spaniard's face when he realized I hadn't snarled at him for making such a stupid comment and had called him by his human name instead.

'Are you going to keep calling me "Antonio" from now on?' he asked, his face slowly changing into an incredibly happy expression, his eyes spontaneously getting more brightly in the process, '…'cause I'd like that, Lovi, I'd like that very much!'

'….yeah. Let's get back on that later, alright?' I said evasively, mentally kicking and slapping myself because _damn_, I certainly had been calling him Antonio pretty determinedly the last couple of hours, '…for now, I… want to discuss something else with you.'

Antonio's smile didn't fade. 'Ah, Lovi, you know you can have either side of the bed. I'm fine with whatever side is left, as long I can hold you close, my love.'

I blushed, but kept the stern look. 'Y-yeah, that's nice and all, but… are you sure you don't want a bed for your own tonight?'

'A bed for my own…' His smile slowly disappeared, '…why? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry with me?'

'No, but… well, you're looking extremely exhausted… and your fever has been going up, so…' I rubbed over my arm, '…maybe you should sleep alone tonight. I think that's probably better for your well-being.'

'B-but I…' Antonio looked away from me and fiddled with the oversized PJ's/shirt he was wearing, '…I really wanted to have sex with you tonight! I was looking foward to it!'

'…you want to have _**what**_?' I growled and narrowed my eyes as Antonio winced, '…are you out of your fucking _mind_? You want to have sex even though you're in _this _condition?'

'I-it's your fault!' Antonio stammered and pointed a sleeve-covered finger at me, '…you're turning me on with… with your…'

'M-my what?'

'…s-smell… you… god, you smell really nice... blueberries smell (and _taste_) wonderful, ahahaha…' Antonio took a step forward to me, '…s-so please, Lovi, please let me sleep with you…'

I felt my face getting redder, especially when he got even closer and smelt my hair, making _ungodly_ noises of appreciation.  
Oh great, just… just great.

…

D-dammit…


	16. Fanny

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: For some reason, I've written a whole chapter that's just about Lovi and Toni's smutty horniness for each other. Dang, am I perverted or what? Ah… maybe I should get myself a nice boyfriend already. _^^

_A/n2: __**Yuri n' Chuka,**__ you were the one that (unintentionally) inspired me to write about Lovi, having a sleeping disorder. I got the idea from one of our message-conversations and I thought I should write that down, so here you go. _^^_Thank you very much for inspiring me!~ _

_A/n3: Pffft… the end of this chapter is __**heavily**__ leaning to M again, I think… _

_**Edit A/n4:** Fanfiction dot net is acting really strange - again. Does anyone else has problems watching the chapter? Hmm... _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XVI:

_**Big Fanny  
**__**(Neil Ray)**_

I think I was having one of those nasty things called a "_dilemma_" when I stood there, in front of my bedroom-door, with a freakishly oversexed, hot Spaniard in nothing more than a way too big shirt or mutated dress or _fucking_ _circus tent the hell I care dammit _next to me.

R-right.

So… so Antonio wanted to have sex with me.

…

W-well. One side of me was… pretty much rooting and cheering _aloud_ for Antonio, wanting _very badly_ that he'd get me out of those boring PJ's I was wearing myself as fast as humanly possible. This _traitorous, oh so very traitorous _side of me was probably also hoping _wholeheartedly_ that Antonio would drag me to my bed and jump on me and kiss me and have hot, Latino-flavored sex with me until I wasn't able to walk or sit or _do anything at all_ anymore for at least a whole fucking _month_.

That was the horny and shockingly submissive side of me.

But… but there was also this other side.

The side of me that pointed out that I'd never forgive myself if anything happened with Antonio because of _something_ (read: having sex) I could have prevented from happening. The side of me that was very much aware of the dazed status of Antonio right now. The side of me that _still_ remembered that one night a couple of months ago – you know the one, the one in which the bastard had actually _passed out _during sex. I mean, come on, that hadn't only been _insulting_, it had also been weird and scary as _shit_!

…I-in a good, sensual and kinky way, sure, b-but still!

And… and there also was this kind of unknown, _superfuckingspecialsecret_ side of me, that (kind of) refused to let Antonio have his way with me and (sort of) wanted to be the dominant one for a change.

…

…even though I _did _have the friggin' _hots_ for a dominant, yet still gentle Antonio like you wouldn't believe. God, whenever he grips me with those firm, strong hands, forcing me to stay in one place as he makes love to me very, very carefully, saying sweet things to me, caressing my skin with his hot breath and sweaty fingers and greedy tongue, I swear to God that I pretty much lose my mind, every fucking single time…

…

…yeah, going to stop talking about that now before I started to blush like the huge mega-fag I was - oh, and before I gave indirect signs to Antonio that it was actually a-okay for him to fuck and have his way with me.

I mean, I-I really had to watch out now. He already was looking very persistently at me, those big, green orbs of his concentrating on my own weird-colored ones as the want and sheer _need _for me practically _slammed_ themselves into my face. Like, _wham!_

S-sure, I didn't really dislike the fact that he had such feelings for me – hell, I knew I wanted and needed him just as much if I had to say it in all honesty - but still… this wasn't right. At least, it didn't _seem_ right. Not in my eyes. He was sick. I _wasn't_ sick. Having sex with each other now would feel like breaking an unknown sex-rule.

…as far as sex _had_ rules.

…

…_did_ sex have rules?

Dammit, now I was seriously getting curious about it, too! What the fucking hell?

'Lovino.'

A very small jolt of lightning shot through me when I felt Antonio carefully took my hands in his, slowly and very _deliberately_ letting the absurdly long sleeves of his PJ's – or whatever the fucking hell the bastard was wearing – slide over the both of our joined hands. I-it was a soft, warm feeling that should have been familiar to me already, but I… I couldn't get used to the touches of his fingers, or to the welcome warmth inside of his sleeves…

I just… just couldn't. N-not when the warmth… was coming from Antonio.

'Lovino…' Antonio said again and I shivered, pretending I didn't see the slightest bit of movement underneath one of his sleeves when I felt the Spaniard's thumb slowly stroke the three, four fingers he was holding on to.

'W-what is it, dammit!' I sniped and refused to let his own fingers (of _both_ fucking hands, w-what the hell) wiggle themselves between mine, even though he sure was trying hard to and even though I really, _really_ wanted him to push his fingers between mine, because… um, because...

…

Crap. I have no idea. Shit, I have _no fucking clue_ why I was resisting.

B-but! Since I was refusing to let Antonio's (n-nice, friendly, c-caressing) fingers do what they wanted to do, I surely must have had a pretty darn good reason for it, right? Right?

…right?

Antonio noticed my resistance and let out a quiet groan – either because of my weird behavior, or because he just felt like crap. However, when I shot a concerned look at him (followed by a huge scowl of Toughness and Massive Asskicking, of course, even though the scowling _really_ wasn't necessary), he managed to give me a reassuring smile and moved his face a bit closer to mine. He still held on to my hands very tightly as he did.

'Y-you…' I mumbled, unable to move or look away from his handsome, yet feverish, red-hot face, '…you… you s-sure smell… minty.'

'I do, right?'

Antonio smiled a bit more and tugged my hands upwards, very slowly, purposely letting them brush _slightly_ against his sides and his chest until he cautiously placed – no, downright _wrapped – _my arms around his neck. I watched him doing so, my face burning up again, my eyes growing a bit wider.

It… it was a rather… awkward position for me, standing like this, my arms kind of… _hanging_ on the Spaniard's shoulders as I was having an internal struggle on what to do next. I mean… of… of course, I should give him a fucking head-butt for making me stand like this – it was embarrassing, dammit! But on the other side, there was no-one else beside the two of us here anyway and it… um…

…w-well, I guess it was nice… to-to get to hold on to him like this… f-for a change… I just hoped my toes didn't cramp up all of a sudden (fucking not-_that_-tall-but-at-least-tall-enough-to-be-almost-a-head-taller-than-me bastard) or something inelegant like that and _oh my god, _what in the blue fuck is the word_ "inelegant" _doing in my shitty vocabulary, dammit!

Suddenly, my trembling, but still _very_ inquisitive fingers spontaneously started to entwine some of the dripping-wet, curly strands of his hair around themselves, as if they had waited like _forever_ for this opportunity to come.

His hair… It…it felt wet. And cold. And there were water-drops falling onto my arms, sluggishly gliding down my skin, into my sleeves, but… but it was a cool, enjoyable feeling. Just as enjoyable as the faint mint-scent surrounding Antonio.

I frowned a bit, feeling brave enough to give the Spanish nation a weird look.

'…t-that's strange.'

'Hmm? What is?' Antonio had moved his own arms around me in the meantime and he gave me a light squeeze, tangling his fingers together behind my back. The smile on his face only seemed to get bigger – f-fucking bastard was probably experiencing a blissful moment of joy and relief because I still hadn't pushed him away.

'You've… I mean, _I've_ washed your hair with that mint-shampoo, and I expected to smell the mint-scent…'

'Ah, but you just said you smelt it.'

'Y-yes. But it's not that… intense.' I licked my lips and seriously wondered where the _hell_ I was going with this. 'I'm just saying I… I had expected it to smell really, really… um. Well… o-overwhelming. Y-you know what I mean, dammit…'

He stared at me lovingly and blushed. 'M-maybe… ah, maybe you should pull me a bit closer to you, then.'

'I-I could just do that, yes…' I muttered, still playing with the hair on the back of his head.

'Then… you'd definitely smell more mint, Lovi…' Antonio's hands lingered for a bit, but then let go of the other and went father up my back, enclosing them around both my shoulders as he let out a quiet chuckle, '…and then I'd smell more blueberry as well…'

'P-probably…' I murmured vaguely, but I felt I already was pulling his face softly, but insistently closer to mine.

'And then…' Antonio's nose was touching mine and his darkened eyes were so fucking close to mine now that it almost scared me.

'…a-and then what, dammit…'

'…and then… you should demand me to kiss you.'

I tried to turn my head away. 'W-why the hell should I…'

Antonio placed his fingers against my face and turned it back. 'Because you want me to, my love… right?'

'M-maybe.' I wanted to scowl, but failed miserably.

'Ask me, Lovino.'

'Hm-mm…'

I hesitated. In a short moment of brightness (yes, even a total wimp like me could have one of those once in a blue moon so _shut the fuck up_), I realized that the Spanish asshole knew me too well. He knew what to say to make me shiver and sigh. He knew how to get a kiss from me. He knew that I was like mush in his hands whenever he talked flirty or fondled me with gentle stokes and caressing touches…

…and he knew _exactly _what to do to get what he wanted - not just from me, but from _everybody_ around him, if he put some effort in it. Yeah, he was manipulative like that.

'Well?~' Antonio pressed his hips against mine and chuckled when he saw the unsure, "I-know-you're-up-to-something-you-bastard" –expression on my face. But it quickly changed into a more nervous, bashful one when I nodded a bit, mumbling the words he wanted to hear.

'F-fine, dammit... k-kiss me.'

His cheeks became redder, now because of the timid words that had come out of my mouth, and he obeyed, placing a warm, but fucking _short_ kiss on my lips. My eyes hadn't even closed yet before his lips were already leaving mine. H-hey!

'T-the hell?' I looked at him, wishing I wasn't so freakishly good at pouting like a little boy, '…you call _that_ a fucking kiss?'

He smiled slyly. 'You want more, yes?'

'More? Hell, I want a fucking _refund_ if you can't do it better than that!' I mildly slapped the back of his head, '...d-dammit, getting me all riled up with your smooth talking and then giving me such a… s-stupid peck on the mouth when I wanted to get… a-a…'

'You want me to take your breath away, right?' he said huskily, pushing me closer, '…ah, my love… of course I also want to kiss you the passionate, _dirty_ way you love so much…'

I swallowed heavily. 'F-fucker.'

'…but…' he pressed another small kiss on my lips, '…only if you agree with certain conditions.'

'What conditions?' I asked, getting suspicious, and raised one of my eyebrows.

'Nothing much… I only want you to sleep with me, Lovino. In the same bed. If you know what I mean…' His hand slid down my back again and patted my ass promisingly, '…ah, and I know you know what I mean, right Lovi?~'

I gritted my teeth – not because of Antonio's mean little scheme (although it really _was_ pretty fucking slick of him, first getting me horny for him and now all of a sudden threatening not to do anything about it, dammit), oh no, nothing like that, I was just grinding my molars together because I _finally_ realized that I apparently had been fucking _brainless_ enough to fall for this (now actually very obvious and transparent) trap of his.

…

Alright. Note to myself:

_Let this be a motherfucking __**lesson **__for you, Lovino: __**never **__**ever **__trust a lusty, whispering Spaniard wearing an oversized shirt that looks like something that's either a very comfy straightjacket or an __**evil **__sailcloth from __**hell**_**, **_because… hell, because it's just plain fucking __**stupid**_**, **_you sad __**nitwit**__!  
__You have your own freaking brain and your own principles, Lovino! Gotta fight for them, dammit! Don't let you smoldering hot boyfriend get in the way of that!_

…

…_n-now that's all settled and done, go ask him why that fucking kiss is taking so long!_

'W-why is that fucking kiss taking so long!' I heard myself blab automatically.

I got a very excited look from Antonio in return as the red color on his cheeks became a bit darker, his mouth getting very close to my own lips without ever touching them.

'So… does this mean that you agree, Lovi? You'll sleep with me?'

I averted my eyes from him, but nodded. A very short, hasty nod, but still a nod.

Antonio let out a triumphant, feeble chuckle. 'Ah, that's wonderful, Lovi!~ Really wonderful, ahahaha…'

'Just… just kiss me already, jerk…'

He smirked a bit and didn't say anything back – he just attacked my neck instead, lazily tilting up my face a bit to get better access to my now all of a sudden hypersensitive skin. The hand on my butt moved down, over the curves of my ass (where he gave me a quick, teasing pinch, that asshole), over my hips and finally disappearing between my legs from behind, which caused me to let out a surprised moan.

It… it was fucking embarrassing, so while Antonio showered my defenseless throat with wet, hot kisses and forced my legs apart by slowly wrapping one of them around his waist (holy fucking shit, who knew I was so good at balancing on one leg?), I hastily covered my mouth with my hands, feeling how warm and flustered my face had become in the meantime. I-I didn't want to make these shameful sounds, I didn't, I didn't…

'Ah, Lovi. I can't kiss you like this, my love.'

Antonio stopped appreciating my neck for a moment and smiled, his face probably just as red as my own as he carefully removed my hands from my mouth. He tapped and curled a finger against my lips and uttered a soft sigh.

No. It wasn't a soft sigh. It was…

A… a _tired _sigh. A fucking _exhausted, worn-out _sigh. Maybe it wasn't even a sigh, but a choking gasp for fucking _air_.

My facial expression most likely changed from terribly turned-on to extremely fucking worried and Antonio looked alarmed when he saw me scowling as I examined his face a bit better.

He tried to laugh his way out of it. 'W-what are you doing, Lovin—'

But he never get farther than that, since he suddenly broke down in the heaviest, most suffocating kind of coughing fit I had ever seen or heard, quickly letting go of me and turning his back on me in a weak attempt to moderate the… the _rasping_, the… the _hacking_ and all of those other horrible, gasping sounds he was making.

I stood there, watching his back wincing with every bark that escaped from his lips, and I felt cold. And anxious. And guilty, so very, very guilty. Because… t-this wouldn't have happened if I had refused to sleep with him.

…

G-goddammit…

**XxX**

As soon as the fit of coughing had started, it ended again. Just like that, uncomplicatedly.

On the other hand, Antonio looked like he had broken every single bone in his body, no matter how hurriedly he tried to convince me he wasn't feeling _that_ bad anymore now that the wheezing and coughing had stopped.

But I noticed how much he panted.

I noticed the feverish red spots in his neck.

I even noticed that his eyes had gone back from shiny and green to dull and grey again.

I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all.

'H-hey, Lovino…' Antonio cleared his throat in a way that sounded like he had great difficulties with doing that, and smiled nervously, '…ah, please don't… think I'm too weak or something… to make love to you, because… I'm not…'

Fucking idiot.

'Antonio, your goddamn _knees_ are _trembling_.' I pointed out.

He looked down. 'Ah, that's just… one of the – very short! – aftereffects, ahahaha… it's nothing much… you shouldn't worry about that…'

'Very short aftereffects, my ass!' I growled and bit down hard on my lower lip, not caring to feel I accidentally had gnawed a bit _too_ hard, what was probably the reason why I was tasting a coppery sensation in my mouth seconds later.

'Lovino…' Antonio moved a bit closer to me (a bit too quickly, I had to fucking _catch _him because he pretty much _fell down _on me), '…oh, sorry… a-anyway, I almost don't want to ask this, but… but… you're still willing to sleep with me, r-right, m-my love?'

I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut and wanted to punch and hug the bastard at the same time very much for talking like the lovable, but also very stupid _moron_ he was. However, instead of doing all of that, I just kept my mouth shut for a while, thinking about what to do.

For the moment, it was definitely most important to get him in bed as fast as possible, before he accidentally hurt himself in this shitty condition.

'L-Lovi? You… you still want to, right?' Antonio repeated quietly, his tired eyes looking up at me as he awkwardly dangled in my arms.

I frowned, but made a decision and nodded sternly. 'Alright. I'll sleep with you.'

Then I took him with me, into my bedroom.

**XxX**

A little while later, Antonio was lying in my bed, covered with the thickest blanket I had found in my closet.

I was also lying in said bed, but _completely_ on the other side.

A huge pile of decorative cushions (so fucking stylish, it even amazed _me_ how absolutely _fantastic_ they looked, I should become an interior-designer) was strategically placed in-between us – by yours truly – and I pretended not to hear the frustrated whine coming from the other side of the cushion-heap when I turned out the lights.

'Lovi…'

'Shut up.' I growled instinctively – _good job, Lovino, so much for pretending not to hear him, dammit _– and pulled up the sheets around me a bit more.

'Lovi!' Antonio sounded like a little angry little kid and I wouldn't have been surprised if the full-grown man was huffing right now.

'I said shut up!' I snarled back, sounding a lot _angrier _than him simply because my personality made it so much _easier_ to.

'B-but…' He coughed again and paused. For a while, I involuntarily listened to his hoarse breathing, in and out, in and out, before he carried on.

'…but this… was not what I had in mind when I asked you to sleep with me…'

I clenched my hands around the sheets, trying to keep myself from yelling at him. 'I-I fucking _know _this was not what you had in mind, bastard, but what _**is it**_ then that I'm supposed to do now? Have sex with you until you slip into a fucking _coma_? Is that what you want?'

'…no…'

'Then shut up already! Go to sleep! You… you need it, dammit!'

Antonio murmured something.

'What did you say?' I snapped immediately.

'I… I said that I only need _you_, Lovino…'

'U-ugh…' I hissed and rubbed my cheeks, feeling the need to kick the crap out of myself for blushing _once again_ because of something the Spaniard had said.

D-damn. During situations like these, I sometimes wished he didn't pronounce every single sweet word about me so fucking _sincerely_, because… it still made my thoughts light and fuzzy, no matter how many times I had heard him say shit like that to me already, dammit…

…

I was such a wuss…

**XxX**

A few minutes passed by in almost complete silence, the occasional puffs and hacks from Antonio's side of the bed being the only – sometimes muffled – sounds audible.

I breathed out quietly when even those noises slowly subsided, little by little. At one point, he wasn't coughing at all anymore, he was only stirring around in bed, probably trying to get some sleep.

_Whew_. Okay.

Good. Very good.

I finally allowed myself to yawn softly – not too loud, it could catch his attention – and turned on my back, staring at the black nothingness above me, thoughtlessly waiting for the moment I would drift away.

That shouldn't be too long.

**XxX**

Or so I thought.

But, well, half an hour later, I was still wide-awake.

_Whooptee_-fucking-_doo_.

Ugh. I guess it was one of _those_ nights again, the kind of nights in which I had to deal with my light, yet very _persistent_ insomnia.

That's right. I suffered from insomnia. Sleeplessness. Yup. Staring at the ceiling all night long and counting fucking sheep until you wanted to blast the wooly, freaky fantasies to _**fucking pieces**_ with an awesomely big bazooka – _that's _insomnia for you. And yes, if you want to know it that badly, I indeed was waaaay past the mental sheep-shooting point. In fact, I had destroyed them already. They were all happily burning in hell now. So at this very moment, I hadn't even got anymore imaginary sheep left to blow up with my imaginary weapon. Fucking annoying, dammit.

…

It's weird, though. I thought I didn't have to worry about that sleeplessness-shit anymore since it hadn't bothered me in months, maybe not even in a whole year. So why the fuck was I still awake, dammit? Why _now_?

I glanced at the pile of cushions (not that I could really _see_ them – well, maybe a bit, because of the darker shades – but I knew the cushions were there) beside me and frowned, faintly wondering if Antonio's not-holding-me had got something to do with it. I mean, I couldn't remember I ever had difficulties with falling asleep when Antonio's body was pressed to mine…

Wait. Did this mean that I had to hold the bastard before I could go to sleep? Really? _Really? _

…

…good god. The corniness of my gayness knew no bounds. It just… knew… _no bounds. At all._

So, now what? Was I supposed to glare at… absolutely _nothing_ for the rest of the night, just because that Spanish idiot wasn't fucking _spooning _with me?

Oh great. I grumbled in annoyance. Yeah, that was… that was just fucking _great_. I was in the same bed as my boyfriend, the only fucker in the world who was _apparently_ able to make me fall asleep, but he couldn't do anything to help me because of the giant wall made of pure pillow and cushion-power, proudly positioned in the middle of the bed in order to _keep the bastard on the other side away from me_.

Now _that's _what I call fucking _ironic_. Suck on_ that, _Alanis_._

Anyway, just when I decided to give up and think about other things to blast away with my awesomely big imaginary-bazooka (like, oh, I don't know, France the Fuckface, Prussia the Albino-Freak and Netherlands the Pothead, to name a few), I suddenly heard a delighted, soft whisper from Antonio's side of the bed.

'Are… are you also still awake, Lovino?'

Fuck. He somehow had heard me. Sneaky bastard had been awake the whole fucking time, _shit_!

'T-the hell?' I hissed, mentally thanking God for not-letting me say "boom pow pow pow BANG!" and other silly gun-shooting noises out loud up to this point, '…wh-what is wrong with you, you bastard! Go to sleep already!'

'A-ah, I'm so sorry…' Antonio chuckled weakly, '…but I can't seem to fall asleep, Lovi…'

Can't fall asleep, huh? Just like me, huh? What a coincidence. _Not_. I growled. This was starting to get ridiculous.

I shot a dangerously glare to the heap of cushions, as if my stare of _death_ could burn a hole _right_ through it. '_Don't_ you fucking tell me you also suffer from insomnia, you unoriginal creep, 'cause I swear to God I'll smack you!'

'What? N-no, I'm not, I'm not suffering from anything like that!' Antonio quickly reassured me. '…I'm only saying I'm probably not tired enough yet to fall asleep!'

'Not tired enough? Are you fucking _serious_? You could barely keep your eyes open an hour ago!'

'Well… life is full of surprises, isn't it?'

'…shit, did you just use _sarcasm_?'

'Ah, who knows?~' Antonio laughed a bit, but his voice became more concerned when he spoke up again.

'…so… you have a sleeping disorder, Lovino?'

Damn him and his selective hearing. I deepened the wrinkle in my forehead and fiddled with the thin sheets. 'I… guess you can call it a sleeping disorder, yes.'

'Aha…' Antonio muttered. '…and when were you planning on telling me about that?'

'N-never.' I shook my head, no matter how silly it was to do that when he couldn't see me anyway.

I could almost _hear _his face fall. 'Why… why not? Is it's too private to tell me?'

'No, no…' I mumbled, breathing in deeply because I couldn't fucking _believe_ I was going to actually say this, '…I-I didn't want to tell you because… I'm perfectly able to sleep… w-whenever I'm sleeping together with _you_.'

Silence.

'So… you're able to sleep well whenever I'm with you? Always?' Antonio concluded.

'Bingo.'

I bit my tongue and raised my hands to feel the heat on my cheeks. God, my _face_. It was fucking _glowing_. Seriously, if I was a hooker and my face a red light, there would be an army of perverted, fat, wealthy people from countries all over the world standing around the bed now, ready to _hump_ me into oblivion. Gross.

On the brighter side, I'd be rich in _seconds_.

But I digressed, once again.

I continued my stuttering, wanting to give Antonio an explanation: '…y-you know, because I always… slept pretty good every single night that followed after our… f-first night together, so I just… didn't think it was _that_ important anymore to tell you. I… I even thought I was "cured" of it.'

Antonio hummed. 'Ah, but you're not, are you now?'

I frowned. 'S-shit, isn't it fucking obvious I'm not, you bastard?'

'Yes, but… you're with me now, right? So why—'

'B-because you're not… h-h-holding me now, dammit…' I murmured, before suppressing an embarrassing, shrilly kind of cry and hiding my face underneath the sheets, decidedly rolling on my side to turn my back on the decorative pile since I couldn't even face the fucking _cushions _with this frustrated, shamefaced expression, dammit…

It was dreadfully quiet on the other side of the bed for a minute or two.

But then I suddenly heard some subtle, rapid movements. I heard soft things being shoved off the bed, I heard sheets being pushed away and I heard somebody getting closer and closer to me, until two long-sleeved arms wrapped themselves around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against a very warm, very comfortable body.

And then I all of a sudden could only hear the soothing words that Antonio whispered, maybe even _sighed_ into my ear, every breath followed by a firm kiss in the nape of my neck.

O-oh god, it all felt too n-nice, way too nice…

N-no, no… I shuddered and swallowed, trying to jab him in the chest. 'T-the hell do you think you're doin—'

A tight, loving hug cut me off.

'Don't… don't think I'm _ever_ going to let you sleep alone again now that I know this, Lovino…' he said in low voice, nuzzling the back of my head and inhaling the scent of my hair deeply.

God.

I couldn't speak, I felt too hot. Hot and bothered and _freakishly_ turned on.

F-fuck. I knew it was so very _wrong_ to get excited now – hell, I could feel his fever practically _burning_ through my hair – b-but… but why did he have to hold me like this, squeeze me like this, _smell_ me like this…

I tried to hide it by pressing my legs together and attempting to control the gasping pants rolling off my lips, but it was no use – I knew _he_ knew when the Spaniard suddenly stopped sniffing my hair and instead _observed _me. Very, _very _carefully.

Then he laughed quietly, ignoring my incomprehensible whines as he let one of his hands slide down from my stomach to… to something _lower _than that, _groping… _s-stuff_. _Meanwhile, his _other_ hand slowly disappeared into the _back_ of my pants, touching and caressing every bit of flesh he could reach.

'Impressive, Lovi…'

He snuggled into the crook of my neck and smiled, I felt he did, when he simultaneously started to speed up his hand-movements…

…of _both _of his hands.

I…

G-god, I did my best to… to just keep on breathing, because… _holy fucking shit shit shit—_

'And here I was, thinking you didn't want to do it tonight…' Antonio mumbled, his voice a bit strained, and pressed our bodies even closer together, '…ah, sorry for making you wait so long, my love… it's just… that weird icequeen-act of yours can be kind of confusing…'

I-icequeen-act? He actually had a (painfully girlish) _name _for my sometimes awkward behavior? Damn bastard!

I wanted to give him an angry glare over my shoulder, but my vision was already too blurry to focus, s-so I guess I… kind of… gave him a needy look instead.

And I shouldn't have given him that, I shouldn't, I shouldn't shouldn't _shouldn't_.

Antonio locked his eyes with mine for a moment, still smiling tenderly at me even though he was clearly at his wits end, and gave me a peck on the lips before his shaky hands quickly tugged down my pants, making me gasp for breath from the shock and sudden exposure to the searing hotness of all of him.

…

I…

I don't know why, but right before I let myself get claimed (so _easily_, so very _easily_) by the ill Spaniard, I remembered wondering who'd feel the most _devastated_ of the two of us, tomorrow…


	17. Gluteus Maximus

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: First of all, thank you very much, __**Kita Kitsune**__, for allowing me to use the strange butt-song-suggestion you made. _^^ _I appreciate it very much. Yay for gluteus maximus!~_

_A/n2: In this chapter, I'd like to introduce Dr. Delgado to you – a very unpleasant, crabby man from Spain who hates Lovino very much. Delgado is Toni's personal doctor. He's not likable, though. _

_A/n3: Belgium was supposed to show up in this chapter, but – big surprise! – I got carried away. She'll be in the next chapter instead. _^^

_A/n4: Don't expect a lot of smut… but __**do**__ expect **fluff**!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XVII:

_**Gluteus Maximus  
**__**(I Compani)**_

Things… went kind of downhill after Antonio and I were done having slow, awkward but still surprisingly good(what the_ hell, _why was it always so freakishly _good_, dammit) sex.

A-as… as soon as the both of our sexual needs had been… hum… _satisfied_, I almost immediately noticed that something wasn't right.

Antonio's warm, sweaty arms around my torso had lost their grip around me. The arms were now only… well, _present_, but nothing more than that. Furthermore, the bastard wasn't cuddling me like he always did and he wasn't gently whispering to me how beautiful I looked either.

Y-you see, after every time Antonio and I had sex, h-he… he always told me I was beautiful. Always. And… and… hell, to be perfectly honest, he frequently called me beautiful during _other_ situations as well, like when I was mad at him again for comparing me with a certain red vegetable, or when he was watching me making us dinner, or… or even when the two of us were only standing boorishly in the same room together.

The reason why he said that? He… just really wanted to let me know that he admired and loved me, he once explained.

…

N-no, that wasn't charming and sweet at all, d-dammit, it wasn't…

But…

I-I _was_ wondering when he'd call me beautiful again this very night…

I was also wondering why he hadn't told me yet that it was okay for me to stammer how much I loved him.

Yeah, I… happened to say that a lot, very firmly, very decisively, after making love with him. Almost on a daily basis. That was because I most of the time became very affectionate to him after sex and then I wanted to cuddle and hug and kiss him and say embarrassing things to him (that I'd _never_ say in broad daylight) so very badly, so very, _very_ badly…

I…I… knew he loved those moments. He loved it when I became huggable and accepting and he loved it when I returned his kisses just as eagerly as he hoped me to. He… cherished _every single second_ of those tender moments and he did his very best to shower me with love and a bit _more_ love whenever I was in a romantic mood. I mean… we _actually_ _looked like a couple_ then.

…it… it was nice to look like a couple sometimes…

But.

None of this happened this night.

Because Antonio had passed out right after he had made love to me.  
And he wouldn't wake up anymore.

**xXx**

So, what did I do when I found out that Antonio had collapsed and stayed unconscious?

I panicked.

I panicked and cried and shrieked and shook him back and forth, back and forth, until I realized that _that_ really wasn't going to wake him up, after which I panicked a bit more and also _bawled_ a whole lot more before I finally came to my senses again and called his personal doctor, Delgado, who came as fast as possible.

…what? Yes, of course Antonio had his own personal doctor! Feliciano and I had one ourselves, too! Every nation had one!

See, as nation-personifications, we were different than normal human-beings – for example, we couldn't die and we could live on for centuries (well, unless a situation in our home country got very rotten, like when we were having a war or having big financial problems, in which cases we had to watch out not to succumb from stress and misery). Because nation-personifications were so different from humans, we all had our own personal doctor, a human man or woman that, just as our bosses, knew about our very existence and were supposed to help us whenever something happened to us/the country, whether it was good or bad.

Now, about Antonio's personal doctor…

Dr. Delgado was a cranky, old and homo-loathing man that for some reason hated my guts. He blamed me for "making Antonio gay" – and I sometimes really wanted snarl to that disgusted, wrinkled face of his that Antonio had already been gay _centuries_ before Delgado even was _born_, but I was too scared of hi – I-I mean, too fucking _forgiving _and _reasonable_ to tell him.

Delgado had been Antonio's doctor for 45 years now – he was 70 years old right now – and he would probably (_hopefully_) kick the bucket within a few years, so there eventually would be a new doctor. I just hoped that he/she would be a lot more understanding about the relationship Antonio and I had than that bastard Delgado had been.

But anyway, when Dr. Delgado had arrived at my place, I showed him the way to the bedroom and asked him in a worried voice if there was anything I could do for Antonio, _anything_ at all.

He had just glanced at me once before going into my bedroom, slamming the door shut, _completely_ ignoring me like I was just some kind of annoying, fat fly.

…

Fucking mean old coot! I _hated_ him! Hated hated hated him! I hoped he would drown in his Spanish gruel one day! And when that day had come, I would _laugh! _And say offensive things! And trample the flowers in his garden! _¡__Ole!_

…

But until that happened, I could better stay clear of the bedroom and hope that Antonio would be fine.

**xXx**

When Dr. Delgado finally came out of the bedroom again, I almost _pounced_ on him in anticipation, shaking all over my aching body (d-dammit Antonio), the trembling the result from a whole hour worrying my fucking head off _and_ a heavy session of nail-biting.

'H-how is he?' I asked, quickly backing off when the little snake-eyes of the man glared at me dangerously.

'Tsk. What a stupid question to ask. How do you _think_ mister Spain is, mister South Italy?'

I resisted the urge to kick him in the face and grumbled. 'S-shit, how should I know how he is, dammit, _you're_ the fucking doctor here…'

'He's completely, utterly _exhausted_, mister South Italy.' Delgado narrowed his eyes so much that they almost disappeared underneath his thick, grey-white eyebrows. '…I don't know _what_ you did with mister Spain – and I _certainly_ don't want to know it – but I can tell you one thing: doing those kind of activities with him while the country is in a severe financial position isn't very _good_.'

I sheepishly rubbed the back of my head. '…I-I know that.'

'I heavily doubt you do.'

'I _do _know, dammit!' I huffed, '…b-but sometimes… things just _happen_, okay!'

Delgado clacked his tongue dismissively. 'Mister South Italy. If mister Spain himself hadn't insisted on spending his days with you during his illness, I would have taken him to a good private hospital a long time ago already. You are very lucky that he wants to have you around. However, I'm seriously reconsidering my brilliant idea, especially now that I've seen that his condition hasn't exactly been improving the last couple of weeks, while he was being with you.'

Oh _god_.

'Are… are you going to lock him up in a hospital?' I stammered breathily, '…y-you can't do that!'

'That's right, I can't do that.' The old doctor frowned. 'Because the king wouldn't let me do it when I asked for permission to do so. He instead told me to **shut up**.'

Ah, the current king of Spain. I had always liked that man.

'But I'm not pleased with this situation, not at all,' Delgado carried on, packing his belongings, '…so expect me to visit the two of you more often from now on.'

'What?' I frowned, watching him in confusion, '…what do you mean? Are you going to _spy_ on us? That's fucking disturbing!'

He adjusted his glasses with a huff. 'No, the way you are _walking_ is disturbing, mister South Italy. I suggest you use more lubricant the next time you and mister Spain engage in _sinful_ _activities_ – it'll prevent that silly duckwalk you have now.'

'D-duckwalk?' An intense blush flared up on my cheeks and I unwillingly stood upright a bit more, trying to look… you know. Like I _haven't _had a certain kind of sex last night and that I _wasn't_ experiencing some annoying, stinging aftereffects somewhere below the waist right now.

…

S-sure, h-he had been really sweet and it had been _good_, so i-it had been worth the pain, but still – that Spanish fucker had to learn to _restrain _himself, dammit…

'Are you done now? With Anto—Spain?' I asked the doctor nonchalantly, bravely deciding to ignore his former comment no matter _how_ tempting it was to take that broomstick out of the cleaning closet to make _him_ walk like a duck as well.

And! Without lubricant! Just saliva!

Delgado smirked haughtily. 'Yes, I'm done with mister Anto-Spain.'

…the _fuc—_

That's it, now that asshole wouldn't be allowed to use spit, either!

'Then I'll let you out.' I mumbled through gritted teeth, _miraculously_ enough preventing myself to broomrape (and/or throttle the fucking bastard with his own mustache) by counting to ten a _gazillion_ times, over and over again, until I felt myself getting calmer.

Hell, it actually _helped_! Thank you, Anger Management-trainer Luca – wherever that mental institution you live in now may be.

But damn, the sooner _this_ evil creep was gone, the better.

**xXx**

'Did you know, mister South Italy…' Dr. Delgado continued as he followed me through the House, back to the entrance, '…that the kind of sex you and mister Spain perform is worldwide considered as one of the most _dangerous_, _riskiest_ and most _disease_-_causing_ sexual-activities there are on this planet?'

'Just _one_? Holy shit, so there are _more_?' I growled under my breath, rubbing my temples to ease off a slowly-upcoming headache. Ugh. Dr. Delgado's endless speeches about the many, many, _oh so fucking many_ disadvantages of… well, butt-sex, I guess, didn't scare me anymore. It sure did scare me in the beginning, when I had just begun officially dating Antonio and Delgado (completely out of the blue and _very_ coincidentally) had decided to tell me all about the wonders of gays and sex.

Naturally, after hearing all of _those _nice bedtime-stories, I wanted Antonio to stay the fuck _away_ from me, with that… that evil-spreading _sex-tool_ of his! The poor bastard had to have patience for at least a month before I was finally convinced by his constant whining that Delgado was exaggerating things and… well, I eventually allowed myself to get swept away by him again.

But! Did that ever discourage the Spanish doctor of hell? Did he ever quit telling me nasty homohorror-tales? Of course not – hadn't you heard him? Good fucking gracious, if I had to believe him, I would be lucky if I even was _alive_ next week!

Or still able to go to the toilet for a number two whenever I wanted to go.

...ewwwwwww.

Fucking old maniac…

Still, old maniac or not, I had to ask him something very urgent – and I really didn't give a rat's ass if he was opposed to the question or not, since I was going to ask him either way.

'Before you leave…' I started hastily (because I saw Delgado was already reaching out to the doorknob, ready to rush off like a fucking _lightning bolt_ that had got to pee), '…could you tell me what I can do for him?'

'I can tell you what you _can't _do for him.' he immediately remarked.

I scowled. 'I'm serious.'

'So am I.'

That did it.

'Look, just tell me what I can do to help that bastard Spain out, okay! Fuck, I know you hate it and I know you hate me, but I… I love your fucking country!' I snapped back at him, trembling with frustration, '…shouldn't _you_ love him, too?'

Dr. Delgado eyed me warily. 'I _do _love him. Not like _you _claim to do, obviously. But as a proud Spaniard, I certainly love my nation.'

I dug the nails of my hands into my palms and sighed desperately. 'Then… then give me some advice, dammit! W-what should I do for him? W-what will make him feel better?'

He looked at me. Then he looked away from me, zipped up his jacket and walked out of my House.

But not before giving me a quickly muttered piece of advice.

'Just be there for him, mister South Italy.'

And he was gone.

**xXx**

After Dr. Delgado had left (good fucking riddance, dammit), I decided to make Antonio some tea.

Because tea's good for you when you're sick, I once heard Japan tell my stupid brother, when the two of them where hanging around the place some years ago, playing videogames and getting on my nerves like the pesky parasites they were, dammit.

Giving Antonio a refreshing cup of tea was a good tip, though. I could try it out with Antonio. I mean, it wasn't like there was anything lethal about some ordinary herbal tea, right? No, there wasn't.

So.

Here I was, slowly walking back to my bedroom again, now armed with a very hot cup of tea. I had put five spoonfuls of sugar in the (greenish – ew, was it supposed to look green?) liquid, just the way Antonio liked it, and I even had thought about bringing a cookie or tomato with me for him as well, just because it's nice to serve tea with something extra.

But then I thought that Antonio would probably barf all over me if I'd make him eat something, _anything_ right now, so I abandoned the idea and went upstairs with just the herbal tea instead.

I…um.

W-when I walked back to the bedroom, I… kind of wondered how he was doing. Was he feeling any better since this morning? Was he able to drink tea? Was he even _conscious_? I didn't know all of that, but I _did_ know that Dr. Delgado knew _way_ _too fucking much _about our sexlife and maybe I should chop his head off with Antonio's axe for that.

Too bad Antonio's axe scared the _shit_ out of me. Freakishly sharp, demonic thing, d-dammit…  
Besides, I didn't know where it was.

Anyway, at least that bastard Delgado had given me some advice before he took off: according to him, I should stay with Antonio during this stupid sickness he had. So I would. 'Cause like I said earlier: that's what husban— I-I mean, _lovers_, do.

...I-I was so silly, calling me and Antonio a husbands of each other. Come on, I-I had to get a marriage proposal of him first before I could say embarrassing stuff like that... n-never mind this, never mind...

I suddenly stopped walking for some kind of reason, looked up… and was a bit surprised to see I was already standing in front of the door of my bedroom. Where Antonio was.

Oh.

…

F-fuck… I-I really hoped that jerk was feeling better, dammit…

**xXx**

I slowly shuffled through the opened door (and it had been fucking hard to open that damn thing, with both of my hands full with a little plate-thingy and a little cup-thingy, but never mind that, I had succeeded, so screw you all) and wanted to greet him (while huffing, of course), but I hesitated and stood still right after I had entered the room – and right _before_ I had even caught a glimpse of the Spaniard.

Hm...

…s-should I call him Antonio? Or should I go back to calling him Spain? Yeah, maybe I _should_ call him Spain again, because first of all, this wasn't a romantic situation anymore (not at all) and second, calling Antonio "Antonio" too often made him grin way too broadly to my liking.

…

…b-but maybe I didn't mind seeing that broad grin of his right now…

Okay, decision made. I closed my eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath, then walked up to the bed in the middle of the room.

'…h-hey, Antonio.'

No reaction. I approached the bed a bit more, just a little bit, and another little bit, until I could see Antonio's still figure.

God. His face was so… pale.

Yes, it was pale: no longer red from the fever, but _pale _from the fever – and I vaguely asked myself if that was a good or a bad sign. In any case, it wasn't a very _natural _sign.

Antonio was tucked away safely (and pretty damn _tightly_) underneath the covers of the bed, except for his arms: they rested on top of his stomach and chest. I saw he had gotten into his weird PJ's again – probably Delgado's work, bastard must have been afraid that I'd _rape_ Antonio or something otherwise, dammit…

His forehead and cheeks were glimmering from his own sweat in the sunlight that was coming through the openings of my (soft-orange) curtains and his eyebrows were furrowed. He breathed in and out in hoarse, little puffs and his eyes were closed – no, _squeezed shut_, as if he was in pain or something. I could also hear him mumble incomprehensible words… h-he sometimes even _groaned_, dammit…

S-shit.

I noticed my lips began to quiver when I saw him like that and the tea in my unsteady hands did so as well, the little spoon tinkering against the inside of the cup as I quietly, automatically, said his name once again.

'…A-Antonio?'

The deep frown in his forehead became less within hundredths of seconds and his eyes quickly snapped open, looking at me bewilderedly. But then he recognized my (s-slightly) tear-stained face and the fierce green orbs softened in color.

He raised his one of his hands from his stomach and waved at me a bit, smiling tiredly.

_Hi Lovi!~_

I could see he was mouthing the words (hell, he even _drew_ the small swirly thingamajig at the end in the air with his finger, what the _fuck_), but he didn't really _say_ anything. There were no words actually coming _out_ of his mouth.

Huh. Despite my current emotional mood (wh-where did all those fucking tears come from, dammit!), I couldn't help but frown at this.

'So… now you can't talk?'

He shook his head.

'_Really_? You all of a sudden can't _talk_ anymore?'

He nodded and smiled a small, nervous smile.

'Explain.'

He stared at me for a while, looking _totally_ blown away, probably wondering how the hell he was going to tell me his explanation without actually _saying_ something. That would be hard, yes.

Luckily enough, I helped him on his way.

'Did Delgado tell you not to talk?'

Antonio sighed in relief and closed his eyes again, nodding. I impatiently/anxiously waited until he opened his eyes again and turned himself towards me. He pointed to his neck with one hand and made almost hilarious scratch-gestures with his other hand.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I didn't. 'Your throat hurts, huh? Like a cat… clawing its nails… against the insides of it?'

God – what a fucking _weird_ description_. _As if the bastard was mocking me.

But Antonio nodded and looked very serious, _too _serious.

I… I guess it really _did _hurt _that_ much, then.

I was quiet for a moment and grabbed a chair, shoving it closer to the bed before I flopped down on it, the tea still in my hands.

He noticed the hot drink and blinked his eyes. Then he looked up at me again.

_Tea?_

'Yes. Tea. Herbal tea.' I blushed and averted my eyes, '…a-apparently, it's good for you when you're sick and shit, so… yeah, it's tea.'

I wanted to keep on avoiding those asking, drained eyes of his, but then I realized I couldn't "properly" communicate with the Spaniard unless I'd look at him… so after a few quiet curses and some mental preparation, I raised my head up again.

As soon as I met his gaze, Antonio beamed a surprisingly _killer _smile at me, assumingly the happiest (and only) broad smile he could share with the rest of the world – with _me_ – at this moment. It wasn't the brightest smile I had ever seen him smile, but it sure was a genuine Antonio-smile, alright…

He mouthed something again.

_For me, Lovi?_

'I didn't say that!' I sputtered, but nodded nevertheless, 'cause I'm made of a fuckton of contradictions.

'…y-yes, bastard, it's for you, dammit… o-of course it is…'

I reached out stiffly, holding up the tea.

Antonio looked very pleased and made himself sit up a bit. I tried not to stare at him too much when he winced in pain as he did, but I couldn't help it – I just couldn't take my eyes off of him. When he finally had made himself a bit more comfortable, he took the saucer with the cup out of my hands – and gently touched my hands for a moment with his ice-cold hands.

He glanced at me.

_Thank you._

'Y-you're welcome.' I muttered. I wondered why his hands had felt so cold. Was he cold?

'Are you cold?' I asked at exactly the same time and then twisted my lips together in a stubborn pout. Dammit, I should learn to think about certain things a bit longer before fucking _spouting_ them out like this…

Antonio had just taken a careful sip of the tea and gave me a sideways look.

_No…_

I snorted, crossing one of my legs over the other. 'Fucking liar.'

A giddy, amused smile appeared on his lips, but he didn't try to "say" anything to me anymore and just enjoyed his cup of tea for a minute or two in a nice, warm silence.

All thanks to my curtains. They certainly improved the atmosphere in here. God, I loved those curtains. They made everything in the room look so damn pretty and soft and safe and handsome. Even Antoni– the lampshade of the lamp on the side table. Fucking gorgeous.

…

…A-Antonio didn't look too shabby either, of course… but he still was pale and white-faced and exhausted. So…

…so I hoped that herbal tea did him any good.

**xXx**

Already a couple of minutes later, Antonio had finished his drink.

Apparently, he had been craving for a drink since the minute he had regained his consciousness again (bastard Delgado had managed to wake him up by holding some sharp-smelling shit under his nose), but after he had finally opened his eyes, he had seen the nasty mug of the doctor instead of mine – and Antonio had been too drowsy and too unwilling to ask the doctor to get him some drink.

So he had been very happy that I had dropped in to give him some tea.

Or so Antonio explained to me with very weird, uncoordinated arm-gestures, mime-playing and soundless articulations.

Took me a fucking _hour_ to understand what the fuck he was trying to inform me of, dammit.

**xXx**

'Have you finished your tea?' I (kind of stupidly) asked Antonio, the minute he put away the saucer and cup.

He smiled weakly. _Yes!~_

'Was it good?'

_Yes!~_

'Okay, wriggle your fucking finger like that _one more time_ and I'll break it.'

_Aw. That's not cute at all, Lovi…_

I glared at him, anger building up inside of me rapidly. _'That's_ what you worry about? Shit, Antonio. Is this all a fucking _game_ for you or something? Are you having a fucking good time being sick? Is that it?'

His misty eyes grew big in protest. _No, of course not!_

'Then why the hell are you acting like you are, dammit! Still trying to flirt with me, still trying _and fucking succeeding as well_ in having sex with me…' I gripped my pants and clenched my hands into the indigo fabric, '…that's not good for you, not when you're in _this_ condition. Y-you should be more careful, dammit…'

Antonio just looked at me in silence.

I sighed. 'It's just… y-you are supposed to be the _wisest_ of the two of us. So you should know better than that.'

Now he frowned. _I __**do**__ know better than that._

'T-then fucking _show _it, you ass!'

_I don't want to. _Antonio mouthed this slowly, as if he was hesitant to say it.

'Why not, dammit!'

_I don't… want to worry you._

'Oh, so you sex me up instead?'

He pouted. _Well, it works, doesn't it?_

I pouted even more, thinking of what to say. Yeah, that tactic _certainly_ worked – temporary. But like _hell _I was going to tell him that, dammit. I had more pride than that.

'You should go to sleep.' I said instead, changing the subject altogether, and stretched myself a bit.

Antonio nodded obediently, probably glad I had stopped whining about his idiotic behavior, but tilted his head to the side a bit when he noticed that I wasn't leaving the room.

_Lovino? _he asked me wordlessly again.

'What?' I grumbled and folded my hands behind my head.

_Are you staying with me?_

'W-well, yes, that's what Dr. Delgado told me to.'

_Really?_

'Yes.' Sort-of, at least.

A hopeful glistering in his eyes appeared. _Should I make room for you in bed?_

'No.' I gave him a stern, annoyed look. 'I'm not going to sleep, I'm going to sit here and guard over—I-I mean, glare at you.'

Antonio smiled fondly. _Ah, how sweet of you, Lovino._

'Fuck you. Just go to sleep.'

_Only if you kiss me._

'W-what?' I slipped a bit from the chair and had to grasp the sides of it for more support.

Antonio looked at me innocently, _triumphantly_, and positioned himself until he was lying on his back again. He said something.

_You heard me._

'No, I actually _didn't_ hear you, since you're not _talking_, remember!' I snarled, face all flustered.

_You still know what I mean, Lovi. Don't you?_

I did.

…a-and I secretly _liked_ what he meant, too.

So before I knew it, I was sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking down on a very content Spaniard with the slightest hints of a blush on his pale face as he softly cupped my own beet-red face.

'J-just a kiss. Get it? Nothing more.' I muttered, resisting the weak, but insisted pressure of his hands that tried to pull me down.

Antonio nodded eagerly.

'A-and no tongues.'

His face fell. _But Lovi—_

'No. Freaking. _Tongues_. I'll bite off yours if you try something, I swear I will.'

He sighed. _Okay._

'And… and keep your fucking hands where I can see them, dammit.'

_I get it, Lovi._

'W-well… well, good. Then I'll…um. I'll…'

I awkwardly swallowed a weird lump in my throat and slowly moved my upper body lower to him, too shy and too embarrassed to even look him in the eyes when I carefully pressed my lips against his and kissed him.

First I had expected him to grab this opportunity to push me down on him completely and kiss the living daylights out of me anyway, but then I felt the way his hands moved around my neck, caressing the back of it, barely using any pressure as he politely answered my chaste kiss.

…

…the bastard _really _hadn't got any energy left, had he? Damn.

When the kiss had ended, I tried to sit up again… but Antonio's arms stayed put around my arms, forcing me with very little power to stay in this weird position. So now I was hovering over Antonio in an unusual, shaky way that could have been considered a very _dominant _move of me… if _Antonio_ hadn't been the one that was trying to get me _closer_ and if _I _hadn't been the one that tried to get more _distance_ between the two of us.

...athough I _did_ feel my resistance was getting weaker when the Spaniard smiled lovingly at me and stroke the side of my face, making me look at him - _straight_ in the eyes.

_You're so very beautiful, my love._

Those… those _words_. I stared at him.

Then I blushed, leant down and happily kissed him some more, closing my eyes instinctively as I gripped his shoulders. However, Antonio _really_ was _disturbingly_ weak, so the kisses didn't become any more intense than this.

But I liked it. I liked the soft, gentle lip-to-lip touches very much and I knew and I felt and I even _heard_ that Antonio liked it too, so that's all that mattered to me now...

And then the doorbell rang.


	18. Curves

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: After this chapter, I'll probably have written over 100.000 words for this fic – that's just as much as a book with +/- 250 pages. THAT'S A LOT OF WORDS. _0~0;; _Pffft, and to think: I'm not even totally halfway yet, hahaha… _

_A/n2: Pfffft. Episode 40 of the Hetalia-anime came out last Monday. It had Spain and Romano – INTERACTING WITH EACH OTHER. As ADULTS. When I almost began to squee when Spain patted Roma on the back, I knew for sure that I was a sad, sad little person for getting excited about something small like that… hahaha… _^^;;;

_A/n3: I want to grab this opportunity to thank the wonderful __**macaroni-massacre**__ again for the amazing Spamano-sketch she made of the herbal tea –scene of chapter 17. _^/^ _I feel so honored!~_ _You should totally check her out on DeviantArt. She's great!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XVIII:

_**Dangerous Curves  
**__**(Jeff Golub)**_

That… was my doorbell, wasn't it?

…

The _fuck?_

I winced and hid my face in Antonio's chest when I heard the annoying and _oh so very unwelcome_ sound of the doorbell echoing through the hall and the corridors of my House, making me feel like _murdering the person in front of my door with_…_ with…_

Um.

Hey, didn't Feliciano and I had some toothpicks lying around in the bathroom?

…

…_with __**toothpicks**__ of fucking __**death**__! OH HELL __**YES**__!_

…

Unless it was France the fuckface at the door. In that case, I'd dive underneath the bed and pretend I was dead. Oh fuck, as if that would work: he'd molest me anyway. I hadn't nicknamed the French asshole "the fuckface" for nothing: he _fuck_ed pretty much everything that had as much as a _face_. Hence the name. Snicker.

Anyway…

I eventually shot a glare at the door with every bit of annoyance I had inside of me (and trust me, that was a _lot_), but in the end, I had to admit defeat ('cause amazingly enough, staring at the door _didn't_ help in this situation – ooh, one can only imagine my surprise – and in fact, it actually didn't help in _whatever_ situation for all that mattered).

So I attempted to get up, softly pushing Antonio's hands away.

'…h-hey, let go of me already, Anton—Spain. I have a visitor.'

But the bastard was persistent and instead of letting me go, he pulled me closer, leading my mouth towards his own with a gentle, but firm hand. I frowned a bit when he kissed me again, but let him have his way with me (what's new, d-dammit) and didn't stop him when he wrapped his free arm around my waist, slowly pulling me down, back on top of him.

I sighed delightfully (j-just a bit!), trying to be as quiet as possible when I positioned myself back on my spot, on Antonio's warm body. I-it felt nice… the kissing, the hands… very n-nice… very nice_ nice nice nice so very nice and sweet and nice and nice and maybe I should lick his lower lip and touch his face and rub myself against him and—_

…and…

…aaaaaand here I was again, on the very verge of violating my newest golden rule:  
_Thou shall not engage in hot smuttiness with thy equally hot yet sick Spanish boyfriend, no matter how much thy would like to submit to him like the pussy that thy art._

So.

After the doorbell had rung for a second time (and after I had mentally smashed my face into my golden rule a couple of times), I began to groan and struggle against Antonio's arms – and _amazingly _enough, I even _succeeded_ fairly easy to win this small "fight" from the Spanish nation… by abruptly moving my face away from those breathtaking lips of his and deepening my already huge frown a little bit more.

'S-shit… c-cut it out already, A-Antonio!' I hissed, ignoring the huffed face he pulled, '…I-I've got company, dammit!'

_Yes – I am._ Antonio mouthed, pointing at himself.

I raised a brow. 'Yeah, well, apparently, you're not the only one who wants to be in my company today.'

Wow. There was a sentence I thought I'd never say.

Antonio loosened his grip around my waist and hesitantly lowered the hand on my face, nodding slowly – _mournfully_ – when he saw that I actually _wasn't_ going to change my mind this time.

Not because I didn't want to fool around with him (o-of course I… sort of… wanted to do that, dammit…), but because… hell, I just _never_ got any visitors here (except from Antonio and Feliciano – and Feliciano didn't even count!). So yeah, you could bet your damn ass that I would welcome them if guests all of a sudden _did_ show up!

…

I… I also _really_ wanted to c-c-cuddle and… and kiss Antonio some more, though...

…

…since I kind of loved him and wanted to be there for him and make him feel loved and all.

...

Shit. I looked down and suddenly realized Antonio's sleeved hands were leaving my waist and face way too fucking quickly to my liking, dammit. Bastard was probably upset about my current imperviousness to his hotness and sweetness and soft kisses that could melt the sun.

I-I had to reassure him.

'W-wait,' I hastily stammered, clumsily grabbing one of his hands with both of mine and holding on to him tightly, '…before I go, I… I just want to let you know one thing.'

Antonio, whose foul mood _instantly_ changed back into a more gleeful one again once he noticed my obvious need to prolong the subtle contact between us, gave a small squeeze in my hands and nodded again, questioning.

_What is it, my love?_

I swallowed and squeezed back. 'T-the minute I realize that the company isn't interesting enough, I'll… I'll kick them out and come back to you, so we can…'

Antonio smiled blissfully. _Yes?_

'C-continue… with… w-whatever the hell we were doing, dammit…' I blushed heavily and stared at our connected hands for a short moment, before looking back to Antonio.

Antonio answered with his eyes.

_Okay._

And… and he just kept on _smiling_ t-that damned, loving smile of his, dammit…

It made it very hard to think rationally. His smile, I mean. No, not just his smile: the current lazy, wonderful atmosphere (god, I fucking _loved_ my stylish interior) wasn't helping my clouded mental state either.

I… I probably wasn't thinking clearly, to cut a long story short.

'Maybe I should ignore the bell…' I heard myself breathing out quietly, almost whispering, '…m-maybe… no-one is interesting enough in comparison with _you_, d-dammit…'

…

Scratch that, I _definitely_ wasn't thinking clearly. Had to fucking _do_ something about that!

Meanwhile, Antonio blushed and gaped at me with an overjoyed look on his tired face, _visibly_ having an _incredible_ hard time with choosing between options A (=downright _attacking me_) and/or B (=in silent excitement waiting for more sweet compliments to leave my lips)…

But. He was too weak to go for A.

And I was already too busy cussing and slapping my own face to get me out of my romantic daze and out of the freaking _room_ already to wait up for option B.

So... I didn't know if I thought the face Antonio made when I gave him one last glance before hastily leaving the room was either a confused or a disappointed one.

…but…

But I _did _know that I had to make it up with him.

**xXx**

I couldn't help but notice that my feet were stomping down really hard on the wooden stairs when I made my way to the front door. My steps were fucking _reverberating_ through my modest (but nonetheless impressive) main hall, dammit. Very annoying to hear.

However, I knew exactly _why_ I was torturing my poor stairs: ever since I had left Antonio (and ever since my stupid visitor had rung _two more times_, dammit), my mood had been decreasing so fucking quickly that I'd probably piss vinegar by the time I had finally reached the door.

_Ding-dong!~_

_Fuck_ dammit _shit_ crap. I grunted and speeded up my tempo a bit – hell, I'd do everything to prevent that goddamn bell to do one more fucking "_Ding-dong!~_".

Ugh, I didn't get it. I had seriously thought I would be really happy to have a whole guest for my own – _without_ the guest being a certain Spanish or certain Italian nation – but now that I was actually going to open the door… _naaah_, not so much anymore. I'd rather go back to Antonio and get huggable again, but it was too late now, since I already had reached the door.

I frowned when I saw a blurry, pinkish silhouette through the window in the door, but shrugged and opened the door nevertheless, putting up my default "GTFO"-face – that most of the time kept others away from me, so hey – maybe it also worked this time?

Sadly enough, I forgot that there was a small amount of living beings that were unaffected by my many ugly faces.

One of them was upstairs, covered in sweat, sheets and... a-and my dried-up kisses.

The other one was in Germany, getting his flea-sized brain fucked out of his head by an evil muscleman, while annoying him.

And the third one was standing in front of the door with a small cane basket, smiling an unsettling, catlike smile at me.

'Hello, Roma!~'

**xXx**

It was Belgium.

I frowned when I saw her. Huh.

I hadn't seen her in quite some time. I thought her people were too deep in _shit_ right now to let her wander around Europe like nothing was wrong with her (I had heard she was still without a government, for example), but here she was, standing on my doorstep in a pinkish, checkered summerdress with a blush on her face and a little straw hat on her head.

…oh, and an impatient, slightly annoyed pout on her face.

'Belgium?' I finally said, pointing to her like a retard.

'How rude, Roma!' Belgium put her hands on her sides and furrowed her brows – but only a bit, as if she was just teasing me, '…tssk tssk! It's not very polite to point at a lady, you know?'

I quickly pulled back my hand, but I didn't move away yet to give her the opportunity to pass. I was still asking myself if Belgium was interesting enough to be my guest.

Hm.

_Hmm_.

Well, probably not interesting enough, but still… she was some kind of a sister to me. I didn't _dislike_ her, despite her past bed-adventures with Antonio. Besides, she was a woman – a _female_. I couldn't be mean or rude to females, that wouldn't be _Italian_. And I was _very_ Italian. Just _look_ at my fantastic sense for the latest fashion on men's wear. I fucking _nailed _it.

So in other words… I had to be nice to her and let her in. I think.

…ugh, I hated it when I was acting all political-correctly.

**xXx**

Belgium rushed past me the freaking _second _I made way for her, in the meantime taking off her hat and tossing it on the hallstand in the main hall in one swift movement, not even bothering to take her eyes off me.

Ugh. I shook my head. Women and their bizarre need to multitask through life…

'Really, Romano, what took you so long!' Belgium said, while adjusting her green headband. Then she suddenly _galloped _out of the hall, _without_ pausing her weird attempt to have a conversation with me.

…

Which meant I had to _follow_ her. Oh, _great_.

'I was _this_ close to giving up, you know!' her voice echoed through the House as I hastily ran after her, '…I mean, I'd probably have gone away if I had to wait just one more minute!'

I would have rolled my eyes and groaned if I hadn't been running. Yeah, sure, those three minutes in front of my door must have been _devastating _for her.

'Where the heck are you going to!' I called out to her when I caught up with her.

'To your kitchen.' Belgium stated without looking my way and simply raised her arm with the basket on it, like showing me that stupid twiggy thing would explain everything.

But it didn't, it only confused me even more.

'Where do you need my friggin' kitchen for! And what's up with that basket!' I asked her, finally walking/racing/_scampering_ next to her.

The blonde woman chuckled. 'Oh, I'll tell you that soon enough!~ But you'll have to wait a _biiiiiit_ longer for that, Roma!~'

I scowled, I couldn't help it. From the corner of my eye, I saw we were approaching the kitchen with rapid steps.

'And why's that?'

Belgium looked at me. 'Hm? Why I can't tell you yet why I need your kitchen and what's in the basket, you mean?'

I restrained a frustrated whin—_grunt_. '_That_, yes?'

We entered the kitchen. I can't remember ever having entered the kitchen _this _fucking quickly.

'Well, isn't that obvious, Roma?' Belgium smiled, swinging her basket on top of the single wooden table in the old, earthy-themed kitchen and ignoring the startled sound the table made in response, '…before I'll tell you anything, I have to visit poor, sick _Antonie_ first, silly!~ He's in your bedroom, right?'

At first, I wanted to do what I usually did whenever people made evil innuendos like that: stutter, sputter and deny everything, ultimately blaming Antonio for it, 'cause surely it had to be that bastard's fault, dammit.

…but then I realized something and gave Belgium a weird look.

'Is there something wrong?' Belgium blinked.

'How… how do you know Spain's here?' I asked, somewhat confused, and scratched my head.

I saw a flash of relief on her face, before she smiled a bit broader. 'Well, isn't that kind of obvious? Since you are his lover, he's probably always around you! Right?'

A faint blush appeared on my cheeks and I started to fiddle. 'W-what kind of a lame, corny conclusion is that, dammit...'

Belgium turned her back on me and peeked underneath the blanket of the basket. 'Besides, he told me yesterday he'd ask you to let him move in with you.'

I immediately looked up. 'He what?'

Belgium heard my stunned voice and turned again, looking just as surprised as I did.

'He didn't ask you?'

'No! He didn't ask me _shit_!' I stared at her, forgetting my questionable manners and getting more and more flustered, '…I-I found him on my doorstep last night, yes, and he _did_ stay with me whole night long, but… but I haven't heard him ask me anything about… l-living together with me…'

'Why are you looking so bewildered, Roma?' Belgium tilted her head, '…surely it's a bit unexpected, but didn't you already kind of lived together with him in Spain? What's the big deal?'

'T-that was in _Spain_!' I stressed, '…and… and… p-people in Spain think very differently than the people in Italy!'

'About gays?'

I cringed. '…y-yes, about… _that_.'

Belgium shrugged, leaning backwards on the table. 'Well, yes, that's probably true, but still – Spain's almost just as religious as Italy, you know. It has probably been a whole lot of luck that homosexuals are allowed to marry in Spain now… but okay, I can understand why you'd worry about that. But it's not like you and _Antonie_ have much choice other than living together in Italy now, right?'

'What are you talking about?' Damn, this fucked-up conversation was getting weirder and weirder.

'God, he really didn't tell you anything, did he…' Belgium bit her lower lip, glancing at me.

'What? Didn't tell me what?'

'_Antonie _hasn't got a House anymore, Romano.'

My eyes widened in disbelieve. 'You're kidding me.'

'Nope.' She folded her hands together and shook her head, '…ah, I think I should explain something to you…'

I growled, my hands anxiously clenching themselves. 'You _think_?'

Belgium ignored my vile tone. 'Ah, but I'll only tell you a short version – _Antonie _should tell you the rest himself.'

She took a deep breath and didn't look at me when she started.

'Yesterday, I got a very angry phone call of _Antonie_. He was saying all kinds of nonsense about some silly kind of fight that the two of you had earlier that day, shouting about _you_, stealing his car and cussing out his country and… well, being a pain in the rear end in general… and I really couldn't do anything else but let him vent his rage like that. I even had to put down the phone for a moment to go to the bathroom! And yes - he was still snarling about you when I returned.'

I didn't know what face to pull, so I just stared at her with a blank expression.

'After he had calmed down, I talked to him a bit. I told him that you probably didn't mean it like that, that you had all rights to suspect him of having been an awful country and that he should stop acting like a jerk towards you, because he… he loves you too much for that.'

She still didn't meet my eyes. I slowly began to understand why.

'_Antonie_ pretty quickly admitted that he had overreacted after our chat, and… well, you know how he is: he instantly wanted to make it up to you, so he told me he'd try to call you up. Then he hung up.'

'B-but I didn't have my phone with me…' I muttered.

'No, you hadn't.' Belgium finally looked at me, '...I was surprised when he called me again, an hour or so later. He sounded a bit strange. He said that he found your phone in the bathroom and that he felt really bad. Then he suddenly told me that he was going to leave his House as soon as possible, because he had demanded the Spanish government to sell all of his stuff and the House itself, so there would be some income for Spain. Something about taxes and the European Parliament, I don't really know anymore…'

I swallowed. I couldn't feel my legs anymore, so I had to sit down as well.

Belgium cleared her throat, laughing feebly. 'I told him it was a stupid idea, that he shouldn't do something like that, not in his condition, but… well, he _never_ listens to me. The last thing he told me was that he was going to Italy and that he was planning to move in with you – and he hoped you'd _let_ him – and then he hung up on me again.'

Belgium sighed deeply.

I still didn't say anything.

But after a long silence that lasted for at least five whole minutes, Belgium suddenly stood up from the chair and softly patted me on the head, a broken smile frozen on her pale face.

'Well! I'm glad the two of you have patched things up with each other. I knew you'd forgive him, I just knew it. Good thing you did, since you're… the _only_ one that can make him feel accepted and important.'

I felt a pang of her pain shooting right through me and tried to look her in the eyes. 'Belgium… I—'

'So anyway!' She quickly said, avoiding my worried eyes, '…can I go see him? I mean, I certainly haven't been as useful for him as I wanted to be, so I at least want to know how he's doing.'

'Yeah, sure…' I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with this forced attitude of hers, '…he's upstairs, first door on the right.'

'Ah, okay…' she nodded, looking in the distance.

'And… don't be too shocked when you see him. He… he might seem very weak and shit, but he's still quirky enough to annoy the crap out of you.'

'I believe you.'

'You… go ahead, go to him. Don't make it too long, though.'

She gave me a hesitant glance. 'You're… not coming along?'

I huffed and crossed my arms. '…I-I trust you. And I trust Sp… Antonio. I…I trust him more than anything. So I'll just wait here.'

Belgium stared at me for a moment, before an honest, thankful smile was beamed my way.

'Big sister is so proud of you, Roma.'

Then she walked out of the kitchen.

I listened to her heels, click-clacking over the floor and some seconds later over the treads of the stairs. I could even vaguely hear she was pausing a moment before she opened the door of my bedroom.

I heaved a sigh when she was finally in the room.

Who knew a woman's unreturned love could hurt so badly, even after all those years?

**xXx**

Fifteen minutes passed before I also left the kitchen and made my way upstairs.

Armed with _tea._

Yes. Because I was such a great kind of (boy)friend, I had taken a tray with me with three cups of tea: peach-flavored tea for me and Belgium, and herbal tea for Antonio. I knew for sure that the Spaniard would voicelessly whine about it (_awww, I also want peach tea!_), but the _hell_ with him, he'd only get herbal tea from me because it's better for him. And because it's nice to tease him.

Walking up the stairs with my arms full of tea and cups and saucers and shit like that was pretty difficult, dammit: I almost tripped over the annoying carpet and I spilled some liquid from one of the peach-flavored cups of tea (that cup was going to be Belgium's, of course), but in the end, I made it.

I couldn't suppress a sigh of relief when I noticed the door of the bedroom was party opened and kicked it a bit further open, shuffling inside of the room in full concentration.

The minute I entered, Antonio and Belgium looked up in surprise. Even while stiffly walking into the room with the tray in my hands, I could see the last hints of a troubled frown on Antonio's face and I could even catch a glimpse of the glassy eyes of Belgium, before she quickly turned her head away from me and rubbed her eyes.

Oh.

It didn't really look like the two of them were having a pleasant conversation.

'Anyway…' I slowly said, putting the tray on one of my side tables, '…um. I brought tea for you two. And for myself. Yeah.'

Antonio looked up at me, his eyes instantly lightening up a bit.

_Thank you, Lovi!~_

Wiggle-wiggle,

I scowled. Oh, he and his finger were _very_ lucky Belgium was here.

'That's very nice of you, Roma.' Belgium attempted to smile as well.

I shrugged nonchalantly, like the praising words didn't make me shudder from a strange feeling of embarrassment at all. 'Oh, don't mention it.'

Then I started to hand out the tea (I'd be a fucking great waiter, oh yes indeed) and during that, I sneakily looked from Belgium to Antonio and from Antonio back to Belgium. They were both smiling – Antonio like the stupid goofball he was, and Belgium's way of smiling wasn't particular intelligent, either. But still…

There were so many differences between their smiles.

Antonio gladly accepted the cup I reached out to him, but he immediately put it away again (…the hell?) and grabbed me by my waist, enthusiastically nuzzling his face in my stomach.

N-now, normally, when we were alone, I wouldn't object too much against this joyful display of affection – m-maybe I even _liked_ it. B-but now Belgium was here, and I didn't want her to see Antonio getting all lovey-dovey to me (or me getting all whimpery and shit), so I became nervous and tried to push the sick Spaniard away.

'S-shit, n-not now, you perverted freak!' I hissed, bonking a fist on his head – but not too aggressively, '…w-we have a guest, dammit!'

But Belgium, who must have sensed that Antonio wasn't going to let go of me, blushed and quickly raised herself off her chair, discretely removing herself from the bedroom after one last amused chuckle. And in case you wondered: _that_ was the biggest difference between Hungary and her.

I felt that Antonio's grip around me lessened when Belgium walked away and he sighed when she finally closed the door, pulling me down to let me sit on the bed with him.

'R-really, bastard…' I stammered, flushing, fiddling with my fingers and rubbing my knees together nervously _all at once, what the fuck_, '…c-couldn't you restrain yourself for just a little bit longer? S-shit, you shouldn't do that when she's in the room…'

'I know…' Antonio whispered hoarsely, his hands stroking his sore throat, '…but I had to, since I wanted to ask you something…'

I gave him a horrified look and covered his mouth with my hands. 'D-don't talk, you ass! Spare your voice!'

He paused and stared at me. Then he smiled – I felt he did, I felt his lips curve upwards – and enclosed his hands around my wrists, gently pulling them off his mouth.

'Lovi…' he mumbled, his hands caressing mine, '…I want to ask you a favor.'

I shook my head mercilessly. 'Oh _hell _no. The peach-tea is _mine_.'

'Ah, I'm not talking about the tea, my love.'

'I wish you weren't talking at _all_.' I huffed, secretly tugging his hand a bit… just a very, very little bit… c-closer towards my face, '…d-dammit, if Delgado tells you to stay quiet, then _do _it! Before you know it, you'll be unable to talk at all anymore! For _weeks_!'

Antonio sat up a bit more and leaned a bit towards me. '…ah, that'd make you sad, wouldn't it, Lovi?'

I didn't lean forward, but I didn't lean back, either.

'W-whatever.'

I did give him a quick kiss on the back of his hand, though.

Antonio's face turned slightly pink when he saw that and he smiled affectionately, patting me on the cheek.

'Ah, don't worry, Lovino, I promise you I'll be quiet. But only if you do me that favor.'

'What favor?' I muttered, blushing heavily when his hand slid down to my neck and back up again.

'Cheer Femke up for me.'

I frowned. 'Shit, I _knew_ Belgium was crying.'

'Will you cheer her up for me, Lovi?'

I deepened my frown and glanced at the door. I then looked back to Antonio and swallowed, timidly tracing his arm with a wavering, questioning finger.

'…b-but I wanted to… y-you know…' I slipped a hand in his sleeves and bashfully pulled the fabric a bit, '…w-we are alone… and I still have to make something up to you – the doorbell-dilemma – s-so…'

Antonio spread his eyes and groaned, practically choking in his words. 'G-good _god, _Lovi, you're cute…'

I blinked. 'W-what the... l-like _hell_ I am, b-bastard!'

'Ah, you're the _embodiment_ of cute if you ask me, though...' He chuckled and moved closer to me, never losing the cheerful, soft-red glow on his cheeks. '...I'll tell you what, Lovino: if you promise me you'll cheer Femke up before letting her out, I promise you I'll forgive you for dumping me for a doorbell.'

'Hey, I did _not_ "dump" you for a fucking doorb—!' I wanted to protest with a not very manly pout, but got silent when Antonio put two fingers on his lips and smiled drowsily, apologizing at me.

'Shh.'

I eyed him rather flustered, wondering if I should be annoyed or charmed by this gesture, and I couldn't speak for a moment – especially not when he observed his fingers with a curious look on his face.

'I-it's just… I want to be a good host, dammit…' I eventually muttered, feeling a bit hot when Antonio all of a sudden kissed his two fingers with both of his eyes closed, but I continued anyway, '…I-I mean, you know for yourself how… how important that is for m—'

I was interrupted again when Antonio carefully pushed his somewhat moist fingers against my mouth and nodded.

'Yes, my love. I know.'

'G-goowd!' I nmgfhrnfmed (yes, that's a verb, shut the hell up dammit), scowling.

'Don't worry though – you're a fantastic host.' he reassured me.

'…h-hm…' I rolled my eyes. I wished more people shared that kind bastard's opinion.

'So…'

The Spaniard lazily rubbed my lips, watching them become redder in amusement, focusing on my eyes afterwards.

'…you promise me to cheer Femke up, yes? Then I'll promise you to be quiet, drink that disgusting herbal tea and get some sleep. And after all of that, I'll… um… if you'd let me, of course… a-and I _hope_ you would…'

He removed his fingers and sat back with a expectant, sheepish smile on his face.

'…I'll… I'll be glad to… carry on… where we left off, earlier… with the kissing and hugging…ahahaha...ha...'

'O-oh.' I turned away from him just as sheepishly.

'…you were in such a romantic mood, my love… I really, really liked that… ah, please look at me, Lovi, I have to tell you something more…'

I gritted my teeth, getting irritated. '_More_? G-god, I'll do it, I'll try to cheer her up, alright? J-just stop fucking _talking_ already, you—'

I was silenced _**yet again **_by the Spanish nation when he grabbed my chin and turned it back to him, kissing me firmly on the lips before letting me go, lowering himself in the sheets…

…and mouthing a last little something to me.

_Love you.~_

...

Damn.

S-stupid…

…stupid squiggly-thing…


	19. Badonkadonk

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: …I've got over 400 reviews. HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT'S GOOD AND PURE. _*_* _Thank you all so very much for your constant support. I… I still can't believe that you're all enjoying this doorstopper-fic so much… I don't know what to say. I just love you all very much and sldksdkadflkad;a;dfkal;fka;flaf;kf;. That should say enough. No, it doesn't. Wait. _*jumps off chair and dances while drawing squiggly things in the air like YESSSSS~* _You're all wonderful peeps. You should be rewarded with lots of glitter. I WILL go and look for the glitter RIGHT NOW~ _^3^

_A/n2: By the way, my bicycle got stolen last Monday (oh, the irony, it __**burns**__!). Just imagine my expression when I walked out of the gym and noticed my (or actually my brother's) bike was gone. My friend said she had never seen such a shocked 'WTF'-face before. Now, the bike was really crappy – seriously, it was a miracle that it could even __**pass**__ as a bike – but still! My bike! Gone! _T_T *cradles herself*

_A/n3: Apparently, TV Tropes has got its own page for songs about butts! _^^ _Isn't that convenient!~ _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XIX:

_**Honky Tonk Badonkadonk  
**__**(Trace Adkins)**_

There could have been lots of reasons why Belgium was crying when I had walked in the bedroom earlier.

For example, she could have bumped her head/little toe/face/whatever against something hard or pointy. That could be pretty fucking painful, I tell you. Painful enough to cry about it. Not that I talk out of experience, of course. Hell no. It's not like I've cried many times before because I accidentally hurt myself. And it's certainly not like I went running straight to Antonio whenever that happened.

Even though he really knew how to take pains away. With his mouth. And stuff.

…

R-right, another reason why Belgium could be so sad, was because Antonio could have said things to her that hurt her. However, Belgium was a good friend of his and he'd never let a girl cry. Well, at least not on purpose.

Yet another reason: maybe something bad had happened in her country.

Or maybe she had to help her stupid older brother break out of jail and suddenly realized (while baking him a "aw-how-annoying-you-got-in-prison-sucks-to-be-you"-cake with a file hidden in it) that she'd _never_ get a break if it was up to him.

…

Or maybe she was just being a woman.

You know. Hormones and emotions and all.

Hmm.

Well, no matter what the reason was why Belgium was crying, I had to cheer her up for Antonio.

And I would, since I'm just _that_ fucking easy to manipulate. J-just be a certain Spaniard, soundlessly say _I love you_ with a very meaningful look and promise to hold and kiss me, and I'd be going over the _moon_ for you.

Begrudgingly, of course.

…

But I would.

**xXx**

After I had told Antonio to get some sleep and threatened to kill him if I would find out later he had died behind my back, without _my_ say-so (what for some reason caused him to call me "cute" and "adorable" and "~" again, dammit), I left the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

Okay. I sighed softly. Now all I had to do, was to find Belgium.

I turned around and almost got a fucking _seizure_ when I immediately bumped into the nation herself, who apparently had been waiting right next to the door.

'Hi Romano!~'

Holy _crap_!

'Gah!' I shrieked and jumped backwards.

Belgium looked confused, stirring into her cup of tea. 'Something wrong, sweetie?'

'N-no!' I immediately, _automatically_ said, even though my chest was rising up and down very quickly, '…I-I'm just… surprised to see you here all of a sudden, that's all!'

She chuckled. 'Ah, just in case you wondered – I wasn't eavesdropping on you and _Antonie _or something, so rest assured! I just thought it would be more convenient for me to wait here for you!'

I stopped clasping my chest – what, why the fucking fuck was I clasping my shirt in the first place – and gave the blonde female a weird look.

'You were waiting for me?'

'Yes!~' She nodded happily, before taking a sip from her tea.

'Why? For what?'

She pouted and pursed her lips. 'Well! You sure disappoint me! Don't you want to know what's in my basket, Romano?'

'Your basket?' I frowned, but then remembered the cane thing she had brought in with her earlier and I looked at her in curiosity. 'Oh, so you had brought something for me?'

'No! You were close, though!' Belgium shook her head and suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards her suddenly very excited face, '…I've brought something for the two of _us_, Roma! Something that's fun to do! Something nice! Something that makes it so much easier for me to tell you about all the personal and painful things I want to tell you!'

'…wait, what?' I bluntly said.

'Oh no, nonononono,' she tittered, '…I'll tell you once we're busy baking cake!'

…

…and _hello_, headache!

I groaned, rubbing the side of my head with my free hand. 'I know you're trying _– _trying_ hard –_ but you're making no sense whatsoever, Belgium.'

'It's very easy, Romano: I've brought cakemix and eggs and sugar and butter and milk and some _**chocolate icing~**_ with me, so… we are going to bake a beautiful cake!~' She made a weird little hop. 'Hooray! Cake! With _**chocolate icing~**_!'

…hm.

…

Nope, I didn't get her.

Don't get me wrong, of course I knew what she meant, sure, but seriously: I didn't get _**her**_. Why was she acting all happy again? Wasn't she supposed to be feeling down or something? Wasn't she sniffling and crying just a couple of minutes ago?

However, I did my best to hide my confusing and shrugged like the cool piece of man that I am. Shut the fuck up, I _am, _dammit!

'…so that's what's in the basket, huh?'

'Yes, but not for long! Come on, why are you still standing there, silly!'

And before I knew it, a very talkative female nation was taking me downstairs with her, going on and on about the miracles of Belgian chocolate and the horror that was Swiss chocolate. I could only try to keep up with her bouncy way of walking.

She sure sounded giggly for someone who was depressed, alright.

Was it even _necessary_ for me to cheer her up?

**xXx**

As soon as Belgium had (_effortlessly_) dragged me back to the kitchen and slammed the door shut, the first thing she did was drape a huge, shapeless apron over me and tie the ends of the stupid thing together with a firm tug.

'There!~' she said when she was done torturing and bruising my poor waist, and brushed her hands together contently, '…we don't want you to get dirty, do we, Roma?'

I wanted to give her a witty answer, but then I made the foolish mistake of looking in the direction of the very reflective glass of the kitchen-door. My jaw fucking _dropped_ a hundredth times when I stared at myself in complete and utter _disgust_.

Sweet mother of _Jesus_, the frilly (so very _frilly_!) yellow (so very _yellow!_) apron was covered with small, sewed-on hearts. _**Hearts**_, for God's sake.

And not "just" a couple of hearts, oh no, I'm talking about a freaking truckload of hearts _in all the chemical colors of the motherfucking rainbow. _With cute little stitches.

**WHAT.**

'Oh my fucking _god, _Belgium, you just couldn't get it any _gayer_, could you?' I hissed through gritted teeth while plucking at a giant heart at the front of the hideous apron, constantly reminding myself to _never swear at a girl, never swear at a girl, no matter how annoying she is, never ever swear at a girl_.

…

_Well, maybe just a bit, when she isn't watchi—_**NO**_. DON'T cross that line, Lovino. Stay __**away**__ from that line. Ksssshhht. Ksssshhht!_

Belgium looked at me thoughtfully, suddenly disappeared behind the table with her basket and then popped up again, holding up a _screamingly pink oh-my-god-my-eyes-let-it-stop-monster _with _smiling pigs _on it. Smiling fucking **pigs**.

'Holy crap.' I mumbled, _both_ of my eyes _twitching _in _horror_ in response to the sight of the greatest disaster since canned bread.

…

…wait, did something like canned bread even exist?

'If you don't like yours, you can have mine if you want,' Belgium prompted, approaching me with her weapon of _fucking mass-destruction_, '…ah, but I think this is looking a bit too faggy as well…'

'Belgium,' I slowly said, '…it's _so_ fucking faggy, even Feliciano and Poland and France and every other nation with a questionable sexuality – which is pretty much the whole fucking world – would scratch his eyes out from the sheer agony of that… that _thing _you have there, so please, _please _don't wear it. Just stab it to death.'

Belgium was obviously a bit startled by my serious little speech and took a closer look at her apron, before shuddering and turning it inside-out, which was very handy, since the inside of the apron only had a greenish color.

'O-okay, let's just never talk about the other side of this apron ever again, shall we?' she grinned panicky, tying the ends of the apron together.

I nodded, then frowned. 'Fine by me. Hey, can't you turn my apron inside-out as well?'

She held back a giggle and shook her head apologizing, quickly turning back to the table to get her stuff out of her basket and _why the hell did that sound so fucking inappropriate dammit!_

'Ah, sorry sweetie – no can do.'

'What? Why not!' I tugged a bit more on my girlish apron.

'The other side has…ah… tap-dancing penguins.'

I stared at her.

'What!' she pouted, grabbing a bunch of stuff out of a kitchen cabinet, 'I thought they looked cute! You don't see tap-dancing penguins every day, you know.'

'Oh yeah, _that_ explains everything.' I dryly remarked and walked over to her to help her with the bowls and spoons and other shit that she pulled out of the cabinet, '…I all of a sudden totally get why you're Spain's friend.'

'Then you also understand why it is you who is his _lover_, Roma.' Belgium said, no secret tone hidden in her casual voice as she grabbed the box with cakemix, ignoring the confused expression on my face.

'Belgium, um… Are you oka—'

'Tssk tssk, Roma!' She clapped her hands. 'Don't just stand there appreciating the wonderful Belgian woman in front of you! Come on, grab the mixer and get a move on, will you?'

She focused her attention on the box again, her brows slightly curved downwards.

…um.

Well. I guess I'd better do what she told me to, right?

**xXx**

Baking a cake with Belgium… it sure brought back some warm memories.

When Belgium and I were still living together in Antonio's House (as two of the many, many colonies he had conquered over the years), we sometimes baked cakes. She would take care of all the difficult stuff, like measuring things and flour and sugar and God-knows-what, and I…

…

…well, I was there too.

Fine, I couldn't bake cakes to safe my life. There, I said it.

But Belgium always insisted me to at least come watch her – she said it was more fun that way - and so I did.

Although I'll never admit it, I _loved_ to look at Belgium when she was busy in the kitchen. I had some kind of a crush on her – and she constantly teased me with it, dammit – and I liked her food, so really, her being pretty and baking cake in the kitchen was one big fat win-win situation to me.

It also was easier to talk to her, whenever we were in the kitchen. She would be baking cake or cookies or whatever the hell she made, and I would sit on a chair next to her and then I sometimes, out of the blue, started to talk to her about things that annoyed me, or made me sad, or that weird feeling inside of me that I always felt whenever Antonio smiled at me.

She'd listen to me and nod and tell me everything would be just fine, and sometimes she even tried to share some of her own worries with me.

However, I was an egocentric brat back then – even brattier than I am now – so I didn't really listened to her whenever that happened. I think she most of the time talked about Antonio and her brother during those moments, but I don't know for sure, because… it… just had been a really long time since the last cake she had baked.

…

But, well, she _was_ planning to make a cake _now_, wasn't she?

And she _did_ say something about personal and painful things she had to tell me. About Antonio and her, probably.

…

Maybe I should try to listen to her, for a change.

**xXx**

After reading the recipe, Belgium took a deep breath and put a hand on my shoulder, smiling carefully.

'Hey… Romano? Remember the old days? How we used to talk about our silly worries and fears whenever we were in the kitchen, just the two of us?'

That was fast.

I looked up from the mixer in my hands and gave her a slow nod. 'Yeah, I remember.'

'Well, I've got something to tell you.'

'Something personal and painful, right?' I blurted out, silently cursing myself for saying it a bit too eagerly to my liking.

'Yep!' Belgium smiled and handed me the bowl, now full of butter and sugar, '…and I think you've got something to tell me as well!'

I frowned. 'I have?'

'Daan told me that you are planning to top _Antonie _in bed.'

'Wha-!' I almost let the mixer slip out of my hands and felt my face got warmer.

T-that mean, evil, Dutch tattletale! He had told Belgium about my plan? What the fucking hell, he wasn't supposed to spread the joyful message like it was something newsworthy! The Spanish asshole proposing to me, _that _was something newsworthy (fucking hell, I just couldn't get it out of my freaking mind, could I?)! What if Antonio found out about my plan, dammit!

Belgium didn't notice my quiet, yet very intense panic attack and scratched her cheek, giving me a puzzled look.

'Is _Antonie_ _**that**_ bad in bed with a guy? _So_ bad that you want to top _him_ instead? Really?'

'N-no, he isn't!' I sputtered and started mixing the living daylights out of the bowl full of gross butter and sugar and _the fuck, _was _**this **_the kind of shitthat I ate whenever I chewed down a piece of cake? Fucking disgusting, dammit!

'So… he _isn't_ bad?'

Did I hear disappointment in her voice? No, probably the annoying mixer-sounds that were playing tricks on me, but I still felt like I should stress the point that the sex Antonio and I had was… was…

…w-well, pretty fucking amazing, actually.

So I gulped and looked at her sideways.

'He's… he's okay.'

…

…yeah, that was stressing the point, alright.

'He's "okay"?' Belgium wasn't convinced and furrowed her brows in concern.

I clenched my hand around the handle of the mixer and cursed under my breath. God, did she really want me to say it? Out _loud_? Did she really want to hear that?

'Poor Roma…' she muttered softly.

…

…

What the hell? Was she actually feeling _sorry_ for me now? Oh my GOD!

'Belgium, for God's sake…' I hissed, before letting out a deep sigh, '…okay, enough. You want to hear it _that_ badly? Fine by me. A-Antonio… Antonio is fucking _fantastic_ in bed, d-dammit. Happy now? H-he makes me feel very attractive and hot and needed and I-I really wouldn't want anybody else to hold me… like he does.'

'I see.' Belgium said.

I stared into the bowl on the sink in front of me. 'You… you must know what I mean, don't you?'

'I-I know what you mean, yes…' Belgium stammered, a bit overwhelmed by the question.

I got annoyed and huffed. 'Then don't go asking stupid things like that, dammit.'

She chuckled nervously. 'A-ah, I'm sorry, Roma… but, well… if you're so happy with _Antonie_, why would you want to top him then?'

'J-just out of fucking curiosity, d-dammit…' I mumbled, watching her put cakemix and some eggs into the yellow brew, '…I-I'd like to know how it feels, too, you know. To top him. Not just anybody – _him_. Antonio. Because he… he's _special_. So I'm trying to get advice of other countries, who _did_ dominate him in bed. That way, I… I _hope_ to get wise and informed enough to top him.'

'Why don't you just ask him?' Belgium suggested, smiling as she stirred into the bowl with a whisk – she didn't like to use the mixer.

I blinked my eyes and snorted. '_Ask_ him, Belgium? As in, "_please, Antonio, be kind enough to let poor little me have the upper hand in bed for once~_"?'

'I never said you should ask it him like _that_.' she calmly said.

'W-well, I'm not going to fucking _ask_ him, okay!' I grumbled, folding my arms, '…I-I want it to _happen_! Out of nowhere! I want him to be surprised and think "oooh, I didn't know my Lovi could be so controlling and rough!~" and stuff!'

Belgium bit her lower lip to prevent herself from bursting out in laughter.

'W-what!' I nagged, getting flustered.

'I'm sorry, but… you're not _rough_, Roma.~'

'Am too!'

'You're way too cute to be rough!~'

'Am not!'

'Romano, please. You let _Antonie _call you his "Lovi".' She giggled. '…I'm sorry, Roma, but accepting sweet pet-names like that? Not really a sign of _testosterone-loaded_ roughness, sweetie.'

'B-but at least I never _give_ him stupid pet-names!' I protested.

Belgium stopped giggling and eyed me weirdly.

'…never?'

'Never!' I proudly straightened my back, '…hell, he's lucky if I call him by his human name, _ha_!'

'…so… you never call him… something sweet?' Belgium asked slowly, '…you never call him your "dear", your "love", your "darling"?'

I shuddered. 'Good _god_, don't say creepy things like that, you make me feel like puking.'

'Romano, I'm serious.' The blonde nation raised her whisk out of the bowl with one hand and grabbed her cake tin with the other, pulling it closer to her.

'So?' I scowled.

'Well… maybe you should consider giving him a pet-name, you know?' she prompted as she poured the entire cake-shit into the tin, glancing at me.

'Why the heck should I, dammit!'

'Don't you love it whenever _Antonie_ calls you his "Lovi" or his "love"?'

My shoulders spontaneously dropped a bit.

…huh.

I-I _did _love it, actually.

Sure, it was very annoying whenever the bastard called me by his embarrassing nicknames, but… I-I had grown used to them. Then I started to like them. Then the frequently whispered "my love"-line was added to the list of pet-names and I suddenly realized that I _loved_ it, I loved the compliments, the daily reminders of the clear fact that he loved me, the casual sweet words… god, I loved them all.

I even loved them _so_ _damn_ much, that Antonio wasn't allowed to call me "Romano" anymore, even though I was perfectly fine with the rest of the world calling me that – even Feliciano could call me "Romano" if he wanted to (but he, too, preferred to call me by weird nicknames, dammit)…

…s-so what did this mean? Was Belgium right? Should I call Antonio by a pet-name? Would it be unfair of I didn't give him a pet-name? It probably _would_, wouldn't it? But it felt so unnatural for me to call Antonio by a fucking pet-name, dammit…

'Romano? Are you alright?'

Belgium's face was suddenly just a few inches in front of mine and I yelped, bending (yes, _bending_) my head away from hers.

'Y-yes, I'm perfectly fine!'

'Ah, I'm sorry. My, I'm probably confusing you with all of my stupid questions, right?'

She smiled, but it wasn't a very hearty smile – it seemed to be restrained, forced. I waited until she had put the cake tin in the already warmed-up oven and turned on the timer before I shot a glare at her.

'You sure are confusing me, yes. But that must be because you're nervous about the stuff you want to tell me, hm?'

'Yeah.'

Belgium stared at the oven for a while and then washed her hands, gesturing to me that I should sit down at the table. I did just that and waited until she came to join me, moving her chair closer to me, folding her fingers together on the tabletop.

But it would take some minutes before she started to talk.

**xXx**

'Alright,' she finally said after an awkward silence, focusing her gaze on her entwined fingers rather than me, '…I'll… tell you everything I think you need to know, Romano. No matter how… um… difficult it's going to be for me to tell you and no matter how bad you may think of me after I've told you everything.'

I just gave her a (slightly impatient, 'cause dammit, she sure knew to pump up the suspense!) nod.

Belgium quickly licked her lips. 'I… I suppose that my dear, yet utterly _stupid_ big brother has told you about… erm… the kind of relationship… _Antonie _and I used to have, when the two of us were still young?'

'Sure,' I admitted easily, '…but the Netherlands didn't really need to tell me about that, because I already _knew_ you and Antonio were fooling around.'

'You… you _knew_?' She winced, squeezing the side of the table, '…o-oh my, I didn't know you had been _aware_ of it all along…'

'Hm? Oh no, no, as a kid, I _wasn't_ aware of it – not at all, the hell if I cared whatever you and all those other fuckers were doing – but, well, Antonio had told me about your relation himself when I had become older, even _before_ we started dating.'

She carefully looked up from the tabletop. 'He told you, huh? Ah, of course he did…'

'He said he… couldn't give you the love you longed to get from him…' I muttered, moving around uncomfortably on my chair, '…and your brother told me… well, he told me something I… rather hadn't heard, concerning you and Antonio's relationship.'

'What did Daan tell you?' She widened her eyes.

'Well…' I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding the big, green orbs of the female next to me, '…he… he told me that Antonio used you. You know, to… find out if he _really_ wasn't into girls.'

'…Daan… Daan told you that?'

I rubbed my neck a bit harder, since I obviously had nothing better to do.

'Heh, yeah, I know, right? Pretty stupid he was still doubting his sexual preference if you ask me, since he has always been _oozing_ gayness – come on, why else wouldn't he notice all those beautiful girls shamelessly _ogling_ his ass whenever he's hanging around outside?'

Belgium inhaled slowly. 'R-Romano…'

'I'm… I'm sorry he let you suffer like that, really,' I murmured, practically whispered, '…b-but I hope you've forgiven him for that. I know he didn't meant to hurt you like that, I just know. He's not like that.'

'Romano, _please_.' Belgium put her hands on one of mine and swallowed heavily, '…i-it's nothing like _that_, sweetie. _Antonie _never used me.'

I rolled my eyes, frowning at the same time. 'You don't have to defend him, you kn—'

'I used _him_, Romano.'

'What?' I abruptly looked up.

She smiled a hesitant smile at me, pushing some of her hair back behind her ear before letting her hand rest on mine again.

'R-Roma. I… I knew _Antonie _wasn't into girls. I always knew. And _Antonie _also always knew he wasn't into girls, he… well, like you said, I just couldn't unsee it. B-but… but I was in love with him, Romano. I was so… so _very much_ in love with him. He was such a nice guy. So kind, handsome, funny… really, I never stood a chance, Roma.'

'Go on.' I heard myself say.

Belgium nodded and took a deep breath. 'O-one day, I confessed to him. I… I just walked over to him and told him I loved him. That I wanted to marry him and grow old(er) with him and just be very happy with him. You know… that's every girl's wish!~ And even though I knew his heart would reject me, I decided to go for it anyway. Because… because I _knew _he was the kind of guy who would do anything to keep his close friends happy. _Anything_.'

I didn't even blink or _think_. I was just sitting there, holding my breath.

'I saw it in his eyes when I told him I loved him: he didn't return my feelings, but he also didn't want to _hurt_ my feelings. So, after I had insisted him to give it a try with me, just by going on and on about my love for him and smiling hopefully at him, he finally gave in and let me date him.'

She smiled absentmindedly.

'…I'd like to tell myself that that was a happy time. I'd be with him, cook for him, kiss him, hold him at night… I thought I had found paradise, even though I _knew_ he was just keeping up appearances. Even though I _knew_… I hurt him. I mean, I let him think he was a horrible monster for not being able to love me – and I didn't even _care_!'

'My god.' I muttered.

'My brother… the Netherlands…a-ah…' Belgium cringed a bit when I harshly withdrew my hand from hers, '…j-just hear me out, Romano. Daan… h-he's a good guy at heart. He wanted to protect me against danger, and when he found out _Antonie _was having an affair with me, he automatically thought _Antonie _was the bad person. Why, he still thinks that, I suppose… I guess he just couldn't understand that his cute, precious little sister would be so mean, so _foul _to pull off something like that.'

'Apparently.'

'And so, Daan did something very stupid and very hurtful – he went and had sex with _Antonie_. I don't think he had to blackmail him very much for that – _Antonie _probably was glad there was _somebody_ there – aside from his friends – who would be able to free him from his frustrations and such. Now, I had always known _Antonie _slept around with his friends, even when he was "dating" me, but finding out that he had become desperate enough to even have sex with my brother, the one he _hated_…'

She shook her head uncontrollably.

'…t-that was too much. Even for me. So I freed _Antonie _from our sick relationship, conveniently blamed Daan for everything, and smiled while continuing my life.'

I stared at her bowed head, then at the table. Then back to her. I furrowed my brows.

'Shit. Using Antonio and your own _brother_ like that…'

'I-I kno—'

'You're quite the _bitch_, aren't you.'

Belgium made a weird, sobbing sound, but denied nothing.

'R-Romano…' She cautiously locked her watery eyes with mine, '…I'm… I'm so sorry.'

'You shouldn't tell _me _that you're sorry.'

'I have no other choice but you. _Antonie_ won't admit that it has all been my fault, Romano. And Daan… I-I'm too _proud _to tell him how thankful I am that he interrupted this unhealthy dream of mine. He's already way too arrogant, telling him this will only make him gloat even more than he already does.'

'So…' I rested my chin on my hand, propped on an elbow, '…so that's why you were here. To apologize.'

She nodded and wiped some escaped tears from her cheeks, breathing a bit oddly. '…that's right. To apologize… for everything I've done to _Antonie…_ and my brother, I guess.'

'Right.'

'W-will you…' She shivered a bit, '…will you forgive me for that, Romano?'

'Me? No. I would never forgive you for doing something like that.' I definitely shook my head, giving her an angry look.

'I-I see…' Belgium mumbled, defeated.

'But…' I sighed, dropping my eyes, '…but Antonio _would. _Just like the Netherlands, if he's really that great. So… I guess I forgive you on behalf of them.'

'…really? _Really_, Romano?'

'Y-yeah. And… and since you've told me the truth… and since you haven't hurt _me_ like you've hurt those other guys… I forgive you as well.' I blushed, crossing my arms in front of my chest again. '…I-I only have one stupid big sister, after all.'

'R-Roma…'

There were some tears dripping down her face and she raised her hands, clasping them in front of her now mildly smiling mouth. Her eyes were wide-open and stared at me thankfully, gratefully, like she had been wanting to tell me this for years…

…w-which was probably just so.

'T-thank you so much, Roma…' Belgium removed her hands from her mouth and beamed a relieved smile at me.

'It's alright – n-now stop crying already, dammit!' I demanded. Crying girls made _me_ feel like crying as well, for God's sake…

'Ah, I'm… I'm sorry!~' she giggled quietly, quickly rubbing her eyes, '…but oh my, Roma, I'm starting to realize why _Antonie _wants to marry you…'

…

…

...w-what did she say?

**xXx**

'…w-w-w-w-w-_what_?'

'Oh god...' Belgium gasped and clasped her mouth again.

'H-he what? He wants t-to… w-what?' I kept stuttering.

'Romano…' She got up from her chair and firmly grabbed my upper arms, her face red but serious, '…y-yes. _Antonie_ told me he wanted to marry you and then I started crying, just before you walked into the room. He was pretty serious about it.'

I stared at her, feeling lightheaded, but not _bad_.

'H-he wants to marry me?'

'You _can't_ tell him I told you this, okay?' Belgium said, still squeezing me, '…he wants it to be a surprise, he wants to recover first before he'll ask you, so you have to promise me you pretend you know nothing, alright? He has such an adorable plan… y-you can't ruin that for him, so please…'

'F-fine, I promise, but... but it's just… I…I never thought he'd ever propose to me again…' I softly said, '…I…I thought he had given up on that…'

Belgium let go of my shoulders and smiled a bit. 'Apparently not, sweetie. Ah, I'm so happy for the two of you!~'

I looked up at her face. 'You are?'

'Yes, Romano.' Her small smile became more genuine and cheerful. '…I really, really am. Trust me.'

**xXx**

And so Belgium and I baked a cake.

After the cake was baked, we used the chocolate icing to decorate the cake.

After we had decorated the cake, Belgium got a phone call from her boss, who (loudly) scolded her for loafing around in Italy and then ordered her to come back to the country. It was a weird conversation, partly French, partly Dutch, but in spite of all the weirdness, I still knew this call meant that Belgium would be going home.

And I didn't mind it.

I had done what Antonio had asked me to do – I had cheered her up. In more than just one way, probably: I had paid my dues and she had paid hers. We were done.

So I let her out and watched her until I couldn't see her or her basket or her frilly dress anymore, before I quickly slammed the door shut and ran upstairs, back to my bedroom.

I don't know why, but I wanted to see him.

Well, maybe I _did _know why I wanted to see him.

**xXx**

Antonio was already awake when I subtly _stormed_ into the room like some crazy fucking psycho-killer.

He had been busy turning some pages of a random book of mine, looking bored out of his mind, and he immediately swung the book behind him when he saw me, a broad, excited smile appearing on his face.

'Hi, Lovi!~'

I gave him a worried/annoyed glance. He sounded a lot better – at least he didn't sound so damn hoarse anymore – but I still didn't totally trust it.

'Should… should you be talking already?' I asked him, ignoring my own panting as I sat on the chair next to his bed again.

Antonio sat up and shrugged lazily, moving closer to the edge of the bed. 'Ah, who knows? I just felt like talking, Lovino!'

'Hmpf.' I grumbled, '…w-well, suit yourself, bastard.'

He observed me for a while, grinning amusedly as his eyes met mine again.

'You're covered in chocolate, Lovi!~'

I tensed a bit. 'Y-yeah, well, I baked a cake with Belgium.'

'You did?' Antonio laughed. 'How nice!~'

'And we decorated it with chocolate-icing.' I added.

'That explains the chocolate, yes.'

I fumbled with my sleeves. 'And… um… I cheered Belgium up, Antonio.'

'See?~' Antonio reached out a hand and grabbed one of mine, '…I told you you'd be a great host.'

I flushed. 'Y-you tell all kinds of shit.'

'Hm-hm…' Antonio smiled a bit and my heart made a little jump when his forefinger and thumb nonchalantly caressed my ring finger with investigating, careful touches.

'W-what are you doing?' I stammered.

'Lovi, have your fingers always been this slender?' he asked me with a thoughtful frown, '…oh man, I thought they were a bit thicker than this…'

I wish I actually had something useful to say to that, instead of blushing furiously and smiling really awkwardly and loving the delighted shiver that ran through my spine because of his words.

But I had nothing useful to say, so I just tightened my grip around his warm hand and asked him with a trembling tone in my voice if it was alright if I'd kiss him, kiss him a _lot_.

He had stared at me pretty bewilderedly, but didn't hesitate for a second and gathered me in his arms, his greedy mouth instantly finding mine. He uttered a blissful moan when he felt I answered him lovingly and he pulled up the sheets, partly covering me with the soft, gentle fabric, all without losing his hold of me.

…

That was pretty much how we spend the rest of the day, alright…


	20. Rump

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: There is this fan-vid on Youtube about Spain and Romano that I looked up when I was thinking about what kind of pet-name Lovi should give to Toni. _^^ _It's a very, very cute clip named "Gibusu" if I remember correctly… Perhaps most of you already know the clip – it's kind of old already – but still, this song helped me a lot deciding what kind of pet-name would be the most likely one for Lovino to address Antonio with. Not going to tell you why, haha!~ Just look the clip up, then you'll know what I mean!_

_A/n2: I've got a question for you. I've been reading lots and lots and lots of Jane Austen books lately for the research I've been doing last weeks for school (well, and because I kind of like her work _^^_), and I was thinking… maybe I could write a fic that's strongly based on one of her books after this fic? Just imagine: Spain as Mr. Darcy. HURR HURR, MR. CARRIEDO~ _*kicked* _Just a general wondering. _^^;;;

_A/n3: ...my, this chapter is surprisingly short! _*stares at it*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XX:

_**Rump Shaker  
**__**(Wreckx-'n-Effect)**_

Antonio was going to propose to me.

Antonio was going to _**propose**_ to me.

_**Antonio**_ was going to propose to me.

Antonio was going to propose to _**me**_.

_**Antonio**_ was going to _**propose**_ to _**me**_.

…

O-oh my god.

S-so he _did _want to marry me… He _did _want to have me as his wif— husband…

He…

…he _did_… want to spend the rest of life… together with… me…

…

I-I was so happy. I was so, _so_ very happy. I wish I could express some of my happiness to him, I wish I could fall into his arms and tell him that I had dreamt of this day to come since the freaky and stressful day that I realized I loved the bastard (and that I apparently was gay – my _god_, that sure has been one wacky day, alright), I wish I could say yes over and over and over again, in all languages of the world…

…but I couldn't, because firstly, that would be very over-the-top gay (and I wasn't _that_ gay dammit, even though I did cry some manly tears every now and then when watching a certain commercial about puppies playing around with fluffy toiletpaper and _oh fuck just go straight to hell already bitches_), and secondly, Belgium had told me to _please_ shut the fuck up about it. Okay, not _that _literally, but still – I wasn't allowed to tell Antonio that I _knew_ about his plan to propose to me.

Fucking annoying.

Usually, I wasn't bad at keeping secrets. For example, Feliciano has told me a lot of his secrets and I never told anybody else about them, because knowing all of that information is very useful to have as a backup when blackmaili– I-I mean, _understanding_ the silly psyche of my dearest younger brother.

But this was different! This wasn't a secret of my whiney brother, no, this was a secret of my whiney _lover_! Concerning _me_!

God, why the hell did he want to get better first before asking me? I-I mean, I wouldn't think any less of a man of him if he'd propose to me while vomiting and coughing and wheezing and drawing stupid little figures in the air…

Sure, I'd be a bit grossed out (the vomiting) and worried (the coughing) and annoyed (the squiggling), b-but I'd still say yes… o-of course I'd say yes, d-dammit… I-I wouldn't ever give another response on that question…

…anymore.

**xXx**

Moving right along…

The next person/nation/asswipe on my list of nations to visit, was dipshit Austria, the stern, distant friend of Antonio with the glasses, weird beauty mark and crazy ex-wife Hungary (who for some reason always wanted to strip me/get me into dresses/pull my curl, just to observe Antonio's perverted, approving reactions on all of that).

Apparently, Austria and Antonio were quite good friends. Not as good as he was friends with me (_especially_ me), Belgium, France and Prussia, but still good enough for Antonio to consider him a good friend.

And that's why I thought it was weird the Spaniard never, _ever _referred to Austria with said person's human name.

You see, it happened to be pretty damn easy to get on a first-name basis with Antonio – hell, just smile a bit at him and he'll be happy to tell you the finest details about just _how_ he uses his tongue to make me scream out in ecstasy during our passionate nights in bed… or bath… or wherever the fuck we were…

…

W-what? _I'm_ not going to tell about it, dammit, I'm not _him_!

…

Anyway, what I wanted to say is…

If a complete stranger was able to get on first-name basis with Antonio within a minute or two… then why wasn't Austria, a fairly good friend of the Spanish nation, called _Roderich _by him? And I don't remember Austria ever addressing to Antonio by his human name either…

I thought it was strange. Really strange.

So I figured I'd better to ask Antonio a bit more about that, the night before the day I'd be going to Austria. Who knows, maybe it would come in handy.

…oh, and while I was at it, I could probably might as well inform him about the fact that I was going away again.

**xXx**

During the past couple of days, Antonio's health was slowly getting better.

His fever wasn't peaking anymore, he could speak normally again and he stopped fainting whenever we were busy making out – thank god, because it wasn't only nerve-wracking, it was also a freaking _turn-off_: you try enjoying sucking on a lower lip of somebody who drools and doesn't response at all. Believe me – it's not that good.

So I when I felt Antonio was getting a bit stronger each day (whispering hot, sexy words to me more and more often and holding me tighter when he saw an opportunity to kiss me – _openmouthed_), I was very much relieved to immediately give in to him and let the magic happen. Not that the submissive wuss in me ever did anything _else_ than that, but, well, I-I just loved his kisses and caresses, dammit…

However, the submissive wuss in me wasn't _totally_ helpless: for instance, I _**didn't**_ let him have sex with me.

Nope. I was way too scared he'd be getting all fucked-up again if we'd do that, so every time those eager hands trailed off and groped me through my pants, I'd head-butt him and slap his hands away, angrily explaining to him _once again_ why I'd rip his head off if he continued trying to spread my legs, dammit.

Fucking bastard had to understand that I _wasn't_ going to violate my golden rule anymore! Nuh-uh! No sexy-times for very sick Spaniards and that's _that_!

Naturally, Antonio would make a ridiculous sad face at that, complaining that I was exaggerating things and that he liked my "humpable, soft, round" butt so much and that just a _little_ bit of sex wouldn't hurt… because…

'_Because you'd love to have sex with me as well, Lovi, I feel you want it just as badly as I want it – why else is your sinfully hot underwear feeling so… damp, hmmmm?~ And what exactly are you doing in the bathroom every time you've let me suck your cute little nipples for a while, hmmmm?~ You can get off in front of me if you want to, you know… ahaha…'_

…

S-s-so _yes_, I thought it was fucking amazing and _I so deserved a fucking Nobel Prize_ _for it_ that I still, _somehow_, had managed to constantly reject his attempts to get in my pants – even though he was absolutely right about me being way too fucking horny for my own good.

I couldn't have succeeded on my own, though.

It was also thanks to Dr. Delgado, always showing up at my door (nosy grey bastard had seriously meant the home calls, dammit) _just_ when my lusted mind was getting too cloudy to resist the loving touches of that fantastic Spanish _God _in my bed any longer, that I was able to begrudgingly kick Antonio off me every single time he went too far.

Antonio didn't like the ongoing cockblock-parade, oh no, he didn't like it at all. He was a very romantic and sexually active nation after all, so yeah… I guess it was kind of hard for him.

Still, I found it a bit weird: _before_ I had decided to visit all of the European nations that dominated him in bed, we hadn't done it in at least three fucking _months_. I mean, I had _never_ heard him complain about _that_ strangely chaste period… maybe because he felt too sick to whine about it back then? Maybe because he had other priorities than worrying about getting laid often enough to his liking?

…

Maybe… maybe he was worrying about something _else_, something really serious…

…

Hmm. I should ask him about that, too… No, scratch that – I _would_ ask him. About Austria, about the selective sexual frustration… about _everything_.

Right _now_.

**xXx**

…w-well, or at least as soon as possible.

It's just… it was already pretty late at night when I had finally finished my tiresome, abovementioned thoughts with abovementioned decision, dammit…

…and with "pretty late", I meant 2 o'clock in the morning – shut up, don't judge me, sleeping is for losers anyway, so _screw_ _you_.

Anyway, I was now lying in bed, on top of a peacefully sleeping Antonio, and looked at his face – just below my own.

Normally, it would be pitch-black in my bedroom and I wouldn't be able to see a damn fucking thing, but sometimes, when there was a full moon shining brightly outside – like now – my room suddenly got all glowly, lightening up thanks to the mystical bluish color of the moon in combination with my awesome curtains… and if that was the case, I could stare at Antonio as much as I wanted to, like the sneaky creep that I secretly was.

…

W-what, dammit! It wasn't _my_ fault the bastard looked s-so damn h-handsome when he was asleep, he had himself to blame for that!

With his stupid, bouncy hair! A-and his stupid, warm, tanned skin! And that stupid, brain-dead, Sleeping Beauty-smile of his! And this weird, summery, _soothing_ smell he had going on! And I so did _not_ just call Antonio Sleeping Beauty!

Even though I kind of _did_.

…oh, whatever, fuck it, it's not like it mattered – for I was going to wake him up anyway.

And _no_, not with a ki—

…

…

Yes, with a kiss, d-dammit. Maybe even a couple of kisses. Maybe even more.

**xXx**

Okay.

I breathed out softly and mused about my plan for a short moment, rubbing my chin against the insides of my folded arms, which were resting on the clothed chest of the Spaniard underneath me.

H-he felt nice…

I was pretty comfortable with the position I was now: close to Antonio, his arms wrapped around my upper body, his naked legs touching mine, our large, white sheets successively keeping the both of us nice and warm with the shared heat of our relaxed bodies… I could stay like this forever, really.

However, I still lifted myself up from my arms and carefully squirmed up Antonio's torso a bit, until my face was pretty much hanging over his own. I saw I was literary casting a shadow over him, but it was just a small part of his face, so it didn't bother me too much.

I bit both of my lips in turns when I hovered above him like this and gently placed a hand on a slightly stubbly cheek, my fingers exploring the very known skin in quiet amusement.

'…bastard. You should have shaved yourself before going to sleep… n-not that I mind… b-but still… i-idiot…'

I leant down after that last remark and cautiously brushed his lips with my own, testing the waters.

'A-Antonio, hey… w-wake up, dammit…'

No reaction. Must be because I was barely even whispering the words.

…

In my mind.

Yeah, that wasn't totally fair of me.

Oh well! I guess I had no other choice then – I had to kiss him again.

So I did. I pressed another kiss on his slightly opened mouth and grabbed the sides of his face with unsure, slow-moving hands, not even caring that my eyes closed themselves again when I did.

I-it was just another short kiss, though.

Because too soon, I broke the kiss off and glared at his oblivious face, breathing in and out with quick puffs.

'A-Antonio… wake up already, jerk…'

Nothing. Although he did sigh deeply, _delightfully_.

Hmmrm. I suppressed a groan and looked at him a bit more, since there was nothing else around me that was… _t-that_ nice… a-and sweet… to look at, dammit…

Belgium's words suddenly echoed through my head.

'…_so… you never call him… something sweet? You never call him your "dear", your "love", your "darling"?'_

_God_. I whimpered. All of the muscles in my arms and legs stiffened and/or tensed up and I knew _exactly _why.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh _no_, I was _not_ going to give him a stupid pet-name, no way, no matter how deep he was asleep right now and no matter how much he probably deserved a nice word from me, I was _not_ going to say anything like that! It… it was too weird for me to say shit like that, d-dammit!

'_Don't you love it whenever Antonie calls you his "Lovi" or his "love"?' _

…

…y-yes… like I said, I-I _did_…

…

…he… he'd love it as well…

…

…

F-fine. _Fine_, dammit, if it meant so much to me/him, alright, I'd give him a stupid term of fucking endearment!

B-but just once! Once!

I glanced at Antonio's face and instantly felt myself calm down a bit.

O-once. Just once. Just now.

O-okay…

I gulped and sat up on his chest, trying to be as attentive as possible as I shoved myself closer to him.

A-alright, I could do this. Hell, of course I could.

S-so… I took his face in my hands again and forcefully squeezed my eyes shut, quickly connecting our lips again.

W-warm…

Then I leaned up a bit, without moving my mouth completely away from his own. I was somewhat startled when I heard my way of in- and exhaling had… I don't know… _changed_. I-it sounded so much more _at ease_, strangely enough…

'Y-you better wake up ASAP if you don't want me to head-butt your sorry ass…'

I gave him another soft kiss to give myself a bit more time.

'…d-d… d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-da…'

_Ugh_, too fucking **embarrassing**, dammit!

I gritted my teeth, kissing him again, not daring to move away from his lips.

_That's enough Lovino, just spit it out. Spit it out. You can't stay like this, you'll smother him. You can't go back now. Say it. Say it! Say it! Oh my freaking GOD, just SAY THE DAMN WORD already you stupid little— _

'…darling…'

I immediately turned my head away and cringed in fucking _shame_ after the _horrible, so horrible_ word had left my mouth.

…

…oh…

…oh _god_, I had actually _said it_. Out _loud_. _To his __**face**_. The _**forbidden**_ _**d-word**__._

…

…

There were no words that could describe my feelings right now. It was a very funky, weird, probably illegal combination of dread, anticipations, embarrassment, regret… but also a very small, very very very teeny tiny bit of _relief_. A-and maybe also a tang of… of happiness. But! Just a tang! Nothing more than that!

I bit on the nail of my thumb and anxiously listened to Antonio's breathing for a minute, 'cause it'd be totally something for him to do, dammit, waking up just when I called him darli— t-the d-word…

Luckily enough, I didn't hear any changes. _Thank god._ I finally allowed myself to ease up a bit and stopped my pondering thoughts, slowly pulling my thumb out of my mouth as I rested my head in the crook of Antonio's neck. _Phew. _Ouch, my poor, cramped-up limbs…

…

However, after my mind had cooled down somewhat, I began to think rationally again… and I clacked my tongue, disappointed when I realized the Spaniard below me _still_ hadn't moved an inch. So, well… kissing and using the d-word hadn't worked, obviously.

Huh. I suppose this meant I had to wake the bastard up with brute force, hm? Brute force it is, then. B-but not just yet, first I had to make absolutely _sure_ I wasn't trembling that badly anymore, dammit, or else I'd look fucking _pathetic. _Even _more_ than usual.

God, good thing Antonio hadn't seen all of this…

…or so I _thought_.

**xXx**

All of a sudden, two arms twisted themselves around me and almost freaking _crushed_ me against the Spanish nation I was lying on.

A soft, hesitant mumble.

'L-Lovi… did you just call me… ah, my love, that was…'

My eyes felt like popping out. Asshole had been _**awake**_.

NO.

'…s-so very _cute_…'

NO NO.

'I can't believe you called me your _darling_!~'

NO NO NO NO _NO_.

'…ah, I'll gladly be your darling, my lovely Lovi!~'

He cuddled my suddenly frozen body tightly, gleefully, and prevented me that way from cussing him out and/or showing him the reddest face in the beautiful history of "Most Face-Devouring Flushes & Cheek-Agonizing Blushes Ever" and _fuck off_, I'm sure there had to be a history of that shit!

Embarrassed to the max, I attempted – _hysterically _attempted – to get out of those painfully comfortable arms of his, hissing and blushing and making really strange noises through clenched teeth that indicated a very interesting kind of anger, but I didn't actually _say_ anything yet – fucking bastard had made me speechless by catching me by surprise, dammit!

Antonio sighed softly and placed a hand against the side of my steaming face, pushing it closer to his own until I was _so_ fucking close to him that I could see the green of his eyes – zoomed in. I immediately stopped struggling. F-for some reason, his orbs shone in the dim moonlight and looked hypnotizing beautiful – but hey, what's new. F-fucking butterflies, roaming free inside of me... n-never made me react normally on that Spanish fucker…

'Lovino…' Antonio smiled and locked his lips with mine, giving me a sweet, tender kiss before leaning back, '…ah, you're so _romantic~_, my love…'

I didn't say anything at first and just stared at his slightly wet lips, frowning deeply and insecurely – even though his words certainly had flattered me. Then I raised a shaky hand and brushed some annoying curls out of his face.

'…d-don't get fucking used to it, dammit…'

'I wouldn't dare.' Antonio chuckled and his eyelids fluttered close when my fingers lingered on his face with gentle, caressing movements.

'I-it's embarrassing…' I tried to explain.

'Ah, you think so?'

'Shit, o-of course!'

'Calm down, Lovi… calm down. It's alright, my love.' Antonio gave me a light squeeze.

I gnawed on my upper lip – that's right, _upper _lip. 'I-I don't understand how you're able to… call me by those names so many times so fucking easily, dammit…'

'Hmm, that's odd… because it's not as difficult to understand as you think, Lovino.' He patted a red cheek. '…you see, that's just the way I am!~ I really _like_ giving pet-names to the one I love! I _enjoy_ it! I _love_ the way you restrain a happy smile whenever I call you something sweet, so I try to do it all the time! I don't have to force myself for it…'

He gave a teasing pinch to my cheek. '…like _you_ just did.'

I eyed him confusedly, probably looking a bit ashamed when I rubbed my face. '…m-maybe if I said mushy stuff like that more often… maybe then I'll…'

'...grow used to saying it? Ah, maybe?' Antonio shrugged lazily, tilting my face up again to kiss the tip of my nose, '…but I don't want you to do or say stuff that make you feel uncomfortable. Thinking about simple things like that too much… that's part of your feisty, yet unsure personality. And I'm perfectly fine with that, Lovi – I wouldn't want you otherwise.'

I blinked and lowered my suddenly relaxed shoulders. '…really?'

'Oh yes, really!' Antonio ensured me, '…so please, _please_ promise me to never, _ever_ call me by that wonderful pet-name again, unless you feel 100% certain about it.'

'…fine. But… you _do _realize that that's probably going to take a long while, right?' I muttered, timidly wrapping an arm around his neck.

He placed a hand on my arm and stroke it. 'I do.'

'…a-and you're still fine with that?'

'Absolutely. I have patience. I can wait. As long as you want.'

I scowled, ignoring the happy feeling that ran through my entire body.

'S-s-_shit_, Antonio. S-stop being so goddamn _perfect_, f-fucking asshole.'

'You think I'm perfect?' Antonio laughed, but it sounded sad. '…ah, I'm not perfect at all, Lovi… and there are a lot of countries around who can wholeheartedly agree with that, ahahaha…'

And just like that, the reason why I had woke him up in the first place came back to me again.

'Like Austria?' I heard myself ask, right after his weak laughter had stopped.

Antonio rolled his eyes, but grinned – now a bit more convincing. '_Especially _Austria!'

'He's your friend, right?' I continued.

'Ah, Austria's a very good friend of mine, yes!~'

'Hmpf.' I poked his face. 'You _sure_ about that?'

'Yep!~' Antonio gave a peck to the finger.

I flushed and pulled it back. '…y-yeah, well, if that's the case, then why don't you guys call each other by your human names?'

Antonio wanted to answer me, but I could see – even in this faint light – that he changed his mind and thought a bit about it first. I mean, he was _frowning_. He only fucking frowned whenever he was thinking about something – and believe me, that _wasn't_ an everyday thing for him to do.

During his thinking process, the hand on my arm kept sliding over my skin, back and forth, back and forth. I didn't mind it… it felt kind of good, dammit…

Finally, Antonio uttered a sigh. 'Ah, to be completely honest, I don't really know myself why I'm not calling Austria by his human name, ahahaha…'

'You don't _know_?' I repeated impatiently, '...what, you don't even have the _slightest_ idea?'

'Well…' Antonio averted my eyes for a moment, '…I _think_ Austria has once forbidden me to ever call him by his human name…'

'W-why?'

'Ah, beats me.' He smiled apologetic at me. '…it's only a suspicion, though, so… I'm sorry, Lovi, but I think you'll have to ask him if you want to know it for sure.'

I nodded a bit, taking a deep breath. 'Okay… then I'll ask him more about that… tomorrow.'

The brightness of the Spaniard's eyes faded. _'Tomorrow_, Lovino?'

'Yeah.' Now it was my turn to look away from him. '…I'm… kind of going to visit him tomorrow.'

'Aha. So…' Antonio pressed his feverish forehead against my face, '…you'll be away again tomorrow, huh… for the rest of the day…'

I quickly shook my head – what earned me an almost childish whimper from the Spanish nation. 'N-no, just… just for the morning this time! I'll be back home pretty early!'

It was true, actually: dipshit Austria had called me up earlier this week to ask me – no, _demand _me – to meet him in _"Steirereck im Stadtpark" _(some shitty, classy restaurant in Vienna) this Friday around 10 o'clock _in the fucking morning_. He hadn't given an explanation – nope, he just told me this in that close-to-emotionless voice of his and hung up.

Stupid aristocratic bastard. Wonder what he got up his sleeve.

'So does this mean you'll have dinner with me?' Antonio smiled against my cheek, effectively getting me out of my flashback, and yawned, embracing me with the both of his arms. '…ah… that's nice, my love… that's very, very nice…'

'I-I know.'

I hesitated, but then kissed him again – by now, it seemed to be such a natural thing for me to do. He returned it right away, but not half as passionately as I was used to – must be because he was getting tired.

'You're cute, Lovi…' he breathed.

I groaned and hid my face in his chest. 'U-ugh. Tell me about it.'

A moment of silence.

'…Lovi?' Antonio's voice sounded like he was mumbling in his sleep.

'What?'

'…are we done talking?'

'Y-yes.'

'…you sure?'

'Yes, dammit, I'm sure!'

'…ahaha… ha… just checking…'

'I-idiot… go to sleep already.'

I fidgeted with his stupid dress-PJ's a bit, knowing somewhere, in the back of my mind, that I still had to ask him about his selective sexual frustration – simply because I wanted to know more about it.

But, well… not today, since he was pretty much overtired from our –late, admittedly – conversation. Maybe I'd ask him tomorrow, or some other day I thought about it. But not today.

'Lovi…'

'The fuck, are you still—'

'I love you, my love…'

'…love you too…' I sharply, _impulsively,_ sucked in some air, '…d-da… d-d-dar…'

_Darling._

Antonio stirred a bit. '…Lovi… did you say somethi—'

'No. I said nothing. Go to sleep, dammit.' I interrupted him sullenly.

Nope. Couldn't say it yet.

…

…

But at least I could _think_ it.


	21. Money Maker

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Upcoming Monday, I'm turning 23. _^^;;; _Hm, I'm not sure if I feel happy about it or depressed, because I'm not very fond of my own birthday anymore since the day I turned 18… Becoming an adult is more difficult than I had always thought it would be. Oh well, at least I'm always getting presents on Valentine's Day!~_

_A/n2: Some of you probably know already, but for those who are still blissfully unaware: I'm going to change my rating to M – eventually. You know what that means, right? __**Smut!~ **__Just for the last couple of chapters, though, so you'll have to have patience with me…_

_A/n3: You already have given me over 500 reviews up to this point. 500 REVIEWS. WHAT. _O.o;;; _Good god, I think my head just exploded from pure happiness. Please mind your step, good people. Avoid the pink stuff! _~

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXI:

_**Money Maker  
**__**(Ludacris)**_

The next morning, the stupid, red alarmclock I had bought once (but almost never actually _used_, since Antonio and I thought alarmclocks were evil and made to torture living beings senselessly and now that I was thinking about it, why the _fuck_ had I ever bought it in the first fucking place, dammit) woke me up around 07:15 with it's annoying… shrill… _**ringing**_.

It sounded like the motherfucking _devil himself_ was having an electronic Rave party in my bedroom! Holy shit! Startled the freaking _crap_ out of me!

It even woke me _so fucking abruptly_ that I instinctively jumped up, bumped my head against Antonio's chin and fell out of bed with a dry _thump_ – face-first.

'_Ouch_!' I uttered a muffled groan against the hard, linoleum floor of my bedroom, too sleepy and surprised to get up right away. '…fucking hell, that hurt, dammit…'

Meanwhile, the horrible alarmclock kept ringing like it's fucking life depended on it, filling the complete room with its _ferocious_ noise, until I heard its snooze-button was being pressed – no, _brutally attacked_ – by a determined hand of the sick (and now slightly annoyed) Spaniard in my bed.

'…nowwhohassetthisstupidthingon…' he slurred incomprehensible, before his hand slipped off the alarm and awkwardly kept dangling from the side of the bed.

_Crap_. I quickly scrambled up and cursed inwardly. Shit, I had woke him up – there goes my ingenious plan, dammit! Ugh… I had meant to sneak out of bed quietly, without disturbing Antonio from his sleep, and get my ass into the car as fast as possible…

…I…

…I-I had even planned to leave a nice little note on the pillow that told him I'd be back very soon and that he should rest and sleep and drink a lot and that I would fucking _murder him with a painting of Da Vinci _(nice guy, too bad he's been as dead as a fucking _doornail_ for centuries already) if he'd do anything risky today – like getting up, trying to cook, inviting France – you know, the usual stuff…

…a-and… and maybe I kind of said "I love you" at the end of the note, too – in a very shaky, unreadable handwriting since I sucked at writing neatly, especially when I was writing gushy shit like that.

Still, gushy or not, leaving a short note like that would have been motherfucking beautifully _romantic_, d-dammit! I - I even had written the d-word at the end of the note, too… m-maybe more than once... Antonio would have been so damn _charmed_ by it! Charmed to the _nth degree_!

But now… now the red alarmclock and I had ruined it! _Shit_!

No! Wait! Hold the phone! Maybe he'd fall back asleep!

Yeah, that was possible! Antonio was _Spain_! All he was good at – aside from screwing me senseless and handing out bone-crushing hugs – was _sleeping_! Like a freaking _log_! _Surely_ he had gone back to sleep!

'Lovino...?'

…

Or not.

Bastard sure has been failing _big_-_time_ as a siesta-loving Spaniard lately, dammit…

**xXx**

Even though it still was pretty dark in the room this early in the morning, I could still see Antonio lifted his head from the mattress and looked around him drowsily, yawning softly.

'…Lovi…? Where are you…?'

Ugh. I sighed, walking over to him.

'I'm right here, asshole.'

As soon as he laid his eyes on me, Antonio looked relieved and smiled, raising a hand to wave at me. '…ah, good-morning, my lovely Lovi…'

'H-hi.' I shyly mumbled back (the _fuck_, why the hell was I still acting like an old, prude _spinster_ at this point, dammit!), and quickly turned my back to him to change clothes. Good thing I had already put them on the chair.

Antonio laughed. 'Ooh, a striptease, hmm?~ What a _wonderful_ way to wake up! Are you going to do that more often from now on? Because I think you should, my pretty little – ooh_, _you're wearing_ briefs!_~ How… how _sexy_…'

It was a good thing the Spanish nation still sounded as groggy as a shitty, pissed (and preferably German) alcoholic bastard after a near-fatal beerbath, 'cause I'd probably have been _terribly_ turned on by those quasi-innocent "_unf_ come here you~"-words otherwise.

But, well, considering his current daze, I _didn't _get turned on now – yes, you may applaud for that, thank you very much.

No, instead of getting horny, I hastily pulled up my loose pajama pants a bit more (_fuck shit bastard had seen my stupid briefs_), shot a angry glare at Antonio and lost a bit more of my ridiculously bashful posture, grabbing the blue button-down from my chair.

'Are you fucking _done_ smooth-talking me, asshole?'

He blinked with his heavily-lidded eyes, but looked intrigued. 'Ah, if you had blushed and stuttered and allowed me to get you out of that way too expensive PJ's (_Gucci_, Lovino? _Really_?) – yes, _then_ I would've been done, Lovi. But you didn't do any of that…'

I snorted, feeling strangely proud and _hot_ and _burly_ and _feministi—_the **fuck**, I mean, _MANLY – _as I buttoned my shirt up.

'_Tssk_, Spain. Please. I'm not _that_ easy.'

After hearing that, Antonio got very quiet. Because I was busy buttoning my stylish shirt, I couldn't look at him – but I could sense that calling Antonio "Spain" again wasn't approved by him very much. Hell, I swore I heard his face fall, _bang_, right on the sheets.

…o-oh.

For a moment, I really didn't know whether I had made a good or bad decision with going back to naming Antonio "Spain". I mean, maybe I've had upset the bastard or something. He was "sensitive", after all.

…

…yeah. Probably not half as sensitive as my unfortunate, _eagerly_-_claimed-in-the-name-of-Spain-so-so-so-many-times-already-dammit _-ass whenever we had made l-love, but still… A-Antonio was _sensitive_.

That's what the Spaniard was. He… could get hurt easily.

…a-and I didn't want to hurt him, so... so I hoped this chokingly weird, sudden silence didn't last long, dammit…

**xXx**

But t_hankfully_, he then started talking again – at last:

'…ah, yes, you're right about that, Lovi!~ You sure are playing hard-to-get these days, ahahaha!~'

_Phew_.

I suppressed a deep sigh. Good. Antonio's voice had sounded very cheerful – and so, very _normal_ – so I guess he had just accepted my choice to call him by his nation's name back again, and that was perfect, because it somehow proved I had at least a _bit_ of control over him. No, not just "a bit", by the way: I totally fucking _pwned_ him! Or something. Or whatever people called it.

With a content grin on my face, I now completely slid off my baggy (yet very fashionable because it was _Gucci_) pants and instantly dove into my closet – partly because I wanted to avoid getting more embarrassing briefs-comments from the Spaniard, partly because I sort of _liked_ to dive inside of clothing closets, especially when they were filled to the fucking _brim_ with wonderful designer outfits (_vintage, _baby!) that were _way_ out of –insert any non-Italian person here– 's league.

What can I say? I'm an Italian – clothes are my very _reasons to function_.

Amen.

**xXx**

When I had put on a nice pair of jeans (_Diesel_, if you really want to know - and I know you want to know), some socks and had freshened myself up a bit, I was almost ready to go – just a last, quick glance in the mirror and a glare at Antonio, and I'd be on my way.

As I walked away from my unsurprisingly _stunning_ reflection and gathered some stuff to take with me (like Antonio's mobile phone, Antonio's car keys, a tomato – probably also Antonio's), while grumbling and mumbling complaints about my messy room, the sick Spanish nation in my bed sat up a bit, then slouched himself down on some strategically placed pillows.

He caught my attention when he suddenly – and way too _childishly_ – spread his completely sleeve-covered (_fucking annoying PJ's, I could hardly wait for the fantastic day I'd vengefully rip that loathsome thing apart with my bare __**teeth**_) arms and held them in my direction, hopefully beckoning me to come closer.

One of my eyebrows curved upwards.

'…the _fuck_ are you doing, Spain?'

'Ah? You don't know? ' Antonio smiled patiently, '…well, you're obviously leaving now, aren't you?'

'Yeah – so?' I frowned, fumbling with the buttons of my cuffs as I slowly approached the bed.

Antonio also frowned and widened his arms some more – if that was still even possible. 'I want a hug from you before you go!'

'You want a _what_?' I narrowed my eyes.

'A hug!~ From _you_!~' Antonio now chuckled, practically _glowing_ from the mere thought alone. I felt a blush coming up when I saw it.

Bastard looked _breathtaking gorgeous, _smiling like that…

'…f-fine. I'll… I'll hug you, dammit…' I quickly tore my enamored gaze off the jerk's face and huffed stubbornly. Still, my progressing steps towards the bed had notability become a lot faster, all of a sudden.

…w-why was that!

Antonio smiled (happily, oh so very _happily_) at me when he saw me shuffling closer and leaned towards me some more, wrapping his long, comfy arms around my smaller frame the friggin' _second_ I was standing in front of him.

And… and sure, that was all very nice and stuff, but I was flushing my fucking cheeks off again and I felt strange and was very much unsure of what he expected me to do _now_, so I kind of… scowled at him.

…

…b-but eventually, I gulped, nonchalantly stretched my arms and rested them just behind the back of Antonio's neck (and shut the hell up, _of course_ I could nonchalantly stretch my stupid arms, dammit, and _no_, they _weren't_ trembling, not at all, so fuck off and go die somewhere already).

I looked down, right into his bright eyes, and just for a split-second, I mentally asked myself if I should... if I should press that kind face against my chest. Just… just to show him some affection, some… mushy love-shit…

But I didn't.

Because before I could think about it for a bit longer (it was only a mere split-second, after all), he suddenly pulled me closer to him with a sharp, slightly painful yank and plunged his face into my chest, breathing out a deep, overjoyed sigh.

I let him nuzzle my chest like that for a while – and I even silently, _breathlessly,_ allowed him to press wet, sloppy kisses and teasing nips to my shirt and to the writhing body just underneath it, occasionally moving his daring mouth over two certain nubs of flesh that _traitorously_ and very _eagerly_ longed for every touch of his sensual lips…

…until I _finally _remembered my golden rule _and _my very important appointment with Austria again.

And the very image of the impatient, mad, sort-of German guy, waiting for me at a kitschy table in a kitschy restaurant with his arms, legs and eyebrows folded while glaring in silent, oh so _silent_ fury at the door, was alarming enough to make me poke Antonio's head rather firmly in the back.

Yeah. It was definitely _that _that made me poke him so hard.

Not his teeth, _scraping_ my skin _right_ through my thin shirt. Oh no. Of course not.

'O-ouch…' Antonio looked up from my chest and gave me a curious look, feigning innocence like a fucking professional actor as he rubbed the back of his head.

'T-that's enough, dammit…' I swallowed a lump in my throat when I saw a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes, '...I-I've got to go now, or else I'll be late.'

Antonio nodded. 'Sure Lovi!~'

Then he suddenly tightened his grip around me, pressing me against him before he dragged me on the bed and _slammed_ me down with him on the sheets, using his own body to keep mine where it was - _pinned_ to the mattress.

…

It… it all happened so fucking _fast_, he hadn't even given me some time to gasp in surprise, dammit!

'W-what the _fu_—' I started, but ended the sentence with a panicky moan when the Spanish bastard grinned into my shirt, his arms resolutely twisting around me in case I tried to struggle.

…I didn't struggle much, though.

'Ah, Lovi…' Antonio had somehow managed to bring his mouth to my ear and chuckled darkly, '…I know you're in a hurry, but I'm not quite finished with you yet – I've got two more things to say to you before you go away… okay?~'

He blew into my ear and I shivered, mewling and squirming under him.

'First of all… call me "Spain" one more goddamn time, and I swear to God I'll start calling you "Romano" again – for the rest of our lives. And you know very well that's kind of long, hmm? You know, because we're almost _immortal _personifications of countries and all…~'

'P-pervert! Fucking… blackmailing… pervert!' I hissed, kicking around me with my legs.

That turned out to be a very stupid thing to do, because kicking my legs made Antonio move around on me until he was contently lying between my legs, his naughty bits very, _very _closely pressed to my own naughty bits.

'Oh _shit_…' I murmured and stopped wriggling, panting already.

'Silly Lovi…' Antonio softly kissed my chin, maybe even _licked_ it, '…turned on, aren't we?~ Ah, you're such an adorable hypocrite!~ Who's the pervert now?~'

I gritted my teeth, feeling embarrassed beyond words. 'S-shut up!'

'Secondly,' he continued, ignoring me while he calmly hoisted up one of my legs to make even _more_ room for him in between them, '…I think I'm not as feverish anymore as I was the last couple of weeks, so I'm planning to have sex tonight, my lovely Lovi…'

O-oh _god. _I groaned softly, voice barely louder than a whisper when he hooked my leg over the small of his back.

'I-I…'

'…and naturally, I want to do it with _you_, my love…' Antonio cut me off, turning my face with a warm, careful hand and smiling hopefully when our eyes met.

'…but… is that alright with you, Lovino? Do you want to make love with me as well, tonight?'

...

I just stared at him.

Huh. How strange it was to have an – _extremely – _unpredictable lover like him.

No, _seriously_. Antonio always… well, let me put it this way, even during his most passionate and downright _obscene_ states of mind (like, um, for example, _right now_), he had _still_ always wanted my permission first before he'd continue his lustful innuendos. No matter _what_.

…

…g-god, obviously wanting to _do me,_ but _only_ if _I _wanted him to do me just as much… a-and striving to be romantic with me while doing so every fucking time… yeah, that was strange, indeed. B-but that was _Antonio_-strange, alright… And I happened to like that kind of strangeness… and…

…and where the fucking hell was I even blabbering about, dammit?

**xXx**

'L-Lovi?'

Antonio kept on looking at me with a certain amount of fear and worry in his expectant eyes, caressing a burning cheek of mine with the back of his hand.

I accepted the careful touch with a confused frown, after which I grumbled and muttered a sentence with stuttering words that contained mildly spoken expletives like "evil asshole" and "stupid fucker" and "goddamn bastard". And shit like that.

Then I suddenly pulled one of my hands free from underneath him and shoved it into his face, or rather, onto his forehead.

Antonio gave me a weird look. 'Lovi, you—'

'Just… just s-shut your damn _trap_ for a second, you jerk…'

'A-ah… okay…' He smiled weakly, unsurely, but he didn't remove himself off me.

I stayed like this for a short while, before slowly withdrawing my hand from his forehead.

'…y-you're right, you don't feel… _that_ feverish anymore…'

'Ahaha… told you so, my love…' Antonio was set at ease again and snuggled closer to me, '…so… what do you say, hm?~ Want me to take you to the moon and the stars tonight?~'

'I didn't know you had a spaceship.' I bluntly remarked.

Antonio laughed, surprised. 'Ah, no, I meant—'

'Good _god_, even the _carpet_ knows what you meant!'

'Oh. _Oh, _I get it now. Ahahaha… sorry… you know I'm no good at understanding sarcasm…' He grinned apologetically.

Ugh. I rolled with my eyes. 'Idiot.'

'…but… ah, Lovi, you still haven't answered me…' The Spaniard lifted himself up from me a bit and glanced down at me, a soft blush coloring his face.

I blushed as well, puffed my cheeks for some fucked-up reason (_damn_, _why the shitting flying __**fuck**__ would I puff my cheeks? Why? WHY?_) and I even tried to cross my arms… but I failed at the latter part because _somebody_ was lying on top of me. So I stayed with the blushing and huffing. Did a good job at those things, too.

But I digressed, as always.

I slowly pushed myself up from the bed, gently pressing my forehead to the warmer one of the awaiting Spaniard above me.

'If… if your fever is still just as half-assed tonight as it is now…then I… um…'

'…yes?~' Antonio smiled blissfully and leaned more into my face, the movement causing me to automatically deepen the color of my red-hot cheeks.

'…t-then I guess sex…I guess that would be okay. I mean, I'd gladly… n-no, I'd love to—u-ugh… y-you know what I mean, dammit…' I mumbled, trying hard to avoid looking at his overjoyed facial expression.

He chuckled, turned my face back to him by a simple, soft nudge of his forefinger against the side of my face and affectionately pecked me on the mouth.

'…I'll be waiting for you, Lovi.'

'I-I know you will.' I touched my lips, feeling a little hot.

Antonio smiled again, then sighed and begrudgingly let go of me. He rolled himself back on the bed and folded his arms behind his head, staring at the high ceiling.

'Hey, Lovi?...'

'Hm?' I hummed, fixing my clothes with a deep frown.

Another sigh.

'Say hi to Austria from me, okay.'

**XxX**

So.

It took me a while before I was finally, _finally_, _**finally oh goddammit **__**finally**_ on my way to Austria, but at least I was _driving_ now, dammit. Driving was good… and I guess it's a good thing Austria's close to Italy anyway.

…god, that sounded dirtier than it should be.

…

Anyway, the spectacled asshole was probably going to be pretty damn angry with me for letting him wait (since he was an evil Austrian and also German at some level and so he'd probably hate it for others to show up late)… but really, I couldn't care less – I had other, more important things on my mind.

For example, I had felt kind of bad about leaving a somewhat gloomy Antonio behind ever since I had took off. Man, he'd really looked bummed…

…

W-well, nothing I could change about it, dammit. I had a _goal_ to achieve.

…I think.

**XxX**

Vienna. Let me tell you something about Vienna.

Vienna was… well. Not happy to admit it, not happy about that at _all_, but Vienna… was probably the most _fucking_ _beautiful_ city I had visited so far.

There were gorgeous houses, museums, parks and churches _everywhere_, almost just as much as the impressive amount of trees, flowers and random dramatic statues of famous dead people (that kept popping up unexpectedly at the strangest places as I observed the city) were. There was hardly any trash lying around on the streets. The fairytale-like landscape, with its large, classy buildings and healthy nature, was amazing and the weather not too hot, not too cold – just fine.

W-wow. Just… just _wow._

It had been long since the last time I had stared around me like this, utterly _amazed_ by the wonderful environment and nice, sophisticated people of the city… and to think, I hadn't even_ left _the fucking_ car _yet, since I didn't have to leave the car at some abandoned, dingy parking garage today, for a chance.

Nope, this time, I could park the car at a parking lot really close to the restaurant. All I had to do after that, was cross a beautiful park – the place wasn't called "_Steirereck im Stadt__**park**__" _for nothing after all – and then I'd be there, at the artsy joint, ready to stuff my face, hear Austria out, and worry about Antonio like a whiny little bitch all morning long.

...

Maybe I should stop comparing myself to whiny little bitches.

Or girls in general.

Or I could stop denying the female in me and buy some fucking dresses.

...

Sometimes, being me was really fucking exhausting.

**XxX**

Well, just as I expected , it was pretty easy to find my way to the restaurant.

I followed the path through the neat park, gawked at some statues, ignored some couples making out on the benches (_didn't think about Antonio, didn't think about Antonio at all, dammit_) and finally arrived at the very funny-shaped restaurant _"Steirereck im Stadtpark"_.

It had two floors, a veranda and a balcony. The floral surroundings of the restaurant made it look like a touristic place-to-be, together with the flat, white, sandy path leading towards it and the sun shining right on the total establishment like a huge spotlight. Furthermore, I suspected this place had a surprisingly soothing effect on peoples moods because _hell_, I felt disturbingly calm and at ease right now.

...

…m-maybe, Antonio and I could come to this place together sometimes. During the Summer or something. We could walk through the park and gaze at the sun and make out on benches and don't give a crap about the looks people would gives us.

And then I would be calm, friendly and sociable instead of testy, mean and complicated.

Hmm. Would I like to act like that? Would _Antonio _like me to act like that?

I furrowed my brows as I walked to the restaurant, thinking about it.

I don't think I'd like to act like that.

And as for Antonio's opinion on that…

"_(…)I don't want you to do or say stuff that make you feel uncomfortable. Thinking about simple things like that too much… that's part of your feisty, yet unsure personality. And I'm perfectly fine with that, Lovi. (…)"_

That's right. He wouldn't like it either.

I smiled a little when I reached out for the door, feeling strangely relieved to notice I got irritated by looking at the stupid, way too beautiful, too friendly doorknob.

What the fuck was wrong with normal, complicated doorknobs, for God's sake? At least they were worth the effort it took to open them.

A-Antonio would think so, at least…

**XxX**

And _there_ he was, sitting at a satirically small white table in front of a window that reached the ceiling and let in so much sunshine that he'd probably be blind for life if he'd ever feel brave enough to lower that menu-card and let himself shine the crap out of him.

Dipshit Austria.

I'd recognize that stupid pluck of hair sticking above the menu-card everywhere.

…well, no. Probably not. Unless he was in a room that was as good as empty. Like this one.

Oh, who gives a fuck.

I walked over to him and stopped next to the table, squeezing my eyes almost shut (because of the sun) and putting my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

'Austri—'

'Unacceptable!'

I jumped a bit when the Austrian suddenly smacked down his menu and shot a stern, slightly annoyed glare at me, amazingly enough not screaming out in terror as the burning sunlight overwhelmed him.

'Romano!' Austria instead said, pulling out an old-fashioned pocket-watch and holding it up for me, almost _shoving it into my nose_, '…you are _late_! See it for yourself! See? Late! Are you aware of that?'

'Yes, dammit – and how am I supposed to look at your damn watch like this!' I snarled, pushing the golden thing out of my face.

Austria frowned and pulled back his hand, looking at the pocket-watch for a minute before putting it away in a huff, shaking his head dismissively.

'It is _very_ rude to let others wait for you, Romano. I do not like that kind of behavior, not at all!'

I groaned under my breath, sitting myself on the single chair on the opposite of the tiny table.

'Yeah yeah, I know. S…hmn. Sor… _sorry_.'

Ugh. I hated that word. Especially this very moment.

Austria looked at me with that pissy look on his face for a little while longer, eventually losing the big frown and getting a more calm, content expression as he gave me the menu-card he was studying earlier.

'Please hurry up and make your choice of what food you would like to eat, Romano. But don't order a large meal, will you?'

I snorted, forcefully turning the pages of the menu-card because I happened to do that whenever I was annoyed or agitated.

'_Tssk_. In case you're wondering, Austria, I'll be buying my food _myself_ – so don't tell me what to get and what not to get, you cheapskate.'

His eyebrows lowered themselves some more. 'Romano, you _can't _take a big meal. Naturally, if you _do_ want to choose to pick a big meal, suit yourself – but it wouldn't be very smart of you, since you're already going to have a great dinner tonight.'

'Dinner? What dinner?' I watched him over the card, scowling, '…look, I don't know what you're up to, Austria, but no way I'm having dinner with you tonight: I'm having dinner with Spa… A-Antonio today.'

'I know you are. That's what I had thought you would do. And that's perfect.' Austria said, looking at me with no clear emotion whatsoever, '…because perhaps I can give you some rather good tips now on how to… hum. _Overpower_ Spain. During dinner.'

I stared at him bewilderedly, letting the card slip out of my hands, down on the table.

'W-wait. How… how do you know why I want to talk to you?'

Austria didn't answer me right away. He just observed my reaction.

In an unsettlingly patient silence.


	22. Buttocks

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: To those of you who are wondering – yes, my birthday was really fun! _*grins* _Thanks to all of you who were so kind to wish me a nice birthday!~ _^3^

_A/n2: I've visited Austria once, when I was about… 16, 17 years old. We went on a school-trip to a quiet, scary hilltop somewhere in Austria, where we could ski and fall down on our asses to our heart's content. I was a pro at the falling-part and mean little 5-year-olds laughed at me while making airjumps and flipflops and skiing backwards without breaking a sweat. Hmmmrr. And the food wasn't really enjoyable either. _:(  
_All bread seemed to come with jam/marmalade… and I don't like jam/marmalade… Obviously, Austria loves it. _^^

_**Edit A/n3: **__Some reviewers were kind enough to point out the fact that "Rodriguez" is a **sur**name in Spanish-spoken countries, so I've changed it to "Rodrigo". I hope that name's better! _^^ _Thanks again for the hint, Bara Chou, Aussy-chan and Verito.S!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXII:

**Big Flabby Buttocks  
**_**(Unknown Thai artist)**_

Well, after five minutes of me staring at Austria and Austria observing me like he was a motherfucking _wildlife expert _and I some random animal in _heat..._ nothing much happened.

Except for that I had started to sweat and feel very uncomfortable. Very, _very _uncomfortable. Hell, I'd rather sit butt-naked on Antonio's _face_, in _Germany's bedroom,_ with an army of a million hungry _Hungary's_ with flushed faces, loaded (that's right, _loaded!_) camera's and mysteriously wet undies around us, than I'd want to be _here_ right now.

…

…on second thought, maybe sitting here wasn't _that_ bad.

…

Anyway…

I was freaking out. _Badly_. _God_, was I freaking out. Normally, whenever I was feeling _this_ freaked out, I'd shoot up from my current position, knock over some chairs/tables/valuable furniture in the progress, make a dash for the nearest exit, fall down on my face a couple of time before finally escaping my undoubtedly life-threatening fate, _wailing_.

Wailing because of the face-falls, obviously. Not because I had been scared or anything. Psssh, of course not. Wailing out of fear was for wussy weaklings without a freaking _spine_, dammit! Like… worms! Snails! French fuckfaces! Yeah, shit like that!

…

...but moving right along…

Even though I _did _feel extremely threatened by the dipshit sitting across the table (acting like he was so popular and shit with his stupid golden pocket-watch and horribly patched-up vest and _oh sweet __**Mary**__, _didn't _anybody_ _**ever**_ tell him he shouldn't have fixed his purple vest with orange strokes of fabric, dammit?), I amazingly enough didn't try to run for my life.

Must be because I wanted to know things that only _he _could tell me.

For example, I wanted to know why dipshit Austria knew of the reason of my visit. I also wanted to know why the supposedly _prude_ Austrian was _perfectly_ _fine_ with talking to me about sex, and finally, _naturally_…

…I wanted to know how I could successfully _assault_ Antonio during dinner tonight.

…

I hoped that somehow, there would be tomatoes involved.

**xXx**

'May I… um, take your order?'

The pretty, female waiter that had come by to write down our orders glanced at me with a concerned, somewhat scared look on her face, before beaming an unsteady smile at Austria - who acted like I wasn't _biting_ the lace tablecloth from uncontrollably _anxiety_ like a fucking hysterical spazz _at all_, and tapped a finger against his chin.

'Hmm, now let's see. It's still early, right? Very well, I'd like to have _Semmel _with apricot jam and butter… ah, and some coffee Mélange, please.'

'Certainly, sir… um…' The girl slowly turned to face me, '…have _you_ also decided on what to take, mister?'

'He'll have the same as me, but with ham and cheese instead of the jam and orange-juice instead of coffee.' Austria immediately answered in my place, folding his hands together and he snorted, sounding a bit annoyed and _obviously_ trying hard not to snap at me in public when he saw me chewing on the tablecloth.

'…and I guess he'll be taking that tablecloth as well.'

The female waiter nodded slowly, confusedly. 'Alright… please enjoy your stay, si-…'

'We _will_, thank you very much.' Austria interrupted her rather rudely, given her a dismissive hand gesture that probably meant as much as "dear girl, _do_ fuck off now please, you and your curly hair bore me".

'…o-okay…'

After giving me and Austria a final panicky look, she left.

**xXx**

When the waiter was gone, I frowned, forgetting my boiled-up, unanswered questions for a moment as I sat more upright. I stopped nibbling on the tablecloth and slid it out of my mouth, glaring at the now even _more_ annoyed Austrian on the other side of the table. Looked like he was busy with his stupid watch again.

'Damn, you're _mean_.' I muttered.

'Hm?' Austria focused his attention on me again and adjusted his glasses. '…I beg your pardon, Romano?'

I narrowed my eyes a bit, quasi-nonchalantly smoothening the –now somewhat icky- tablecloth underneath my hands.

'You heard me, dammit – you're _mean_! Shit, the _fuck's _wrong with you! You shouldn't use that cold tone against cute girls!'

Austria slightly tilted his head to the side, looking totally clueless and… well, actually kind of like _Antonio_, every time I asked that dimwitted bastard to tell me something interesting about Spanish politics…

'…_the… Spanish… whatnow, Lovi?~'_

Yeah. His overall mind-blowing knowledge about his own country also amazed _me_.

Anyway, during this lovely and very useless inner monologue of mine that made no sense _whatsoever_, Austria's head was still turned to one side, a blank look on his face.

'Romano, are you telling me I was rude to that young woman?'

I huffed. 'You bet you were!'

'Oh. Well. I disagree with you on that. I was perfectly polite when I told her you would purchase the tablecloth you were heartily sucking on just now – and at least I was more polite than _you_ were.'

My jaw dropped a few inches. 'What?'

'Oh, so you think it's perfectly normal to spread your saliva on other people's properties?' Austria shook his head and twisted his lips in the weirdest ways before continuing. '…_really_, Romano – that was just _unforgivable!_ That girl looked positively _shocked _because of that shameful move of yours!You should behave yourself, no matter what circumstances you are in!'

I rolled my eyes. 'Yes yes, I should behave, I'm unforgivable, I should kick my own sorry ass for not-controlling my fucking frustrations in this situation – but you're the one to blame, dammit!'

He didn't seem to get it. 'I am?'

'…wha- _yes_, you fucking creep, you _are!_' I said, hissing as I leant a bit forward, '…you… you made me fucking _nervous_ with your stupid "ohh, of course I'll tell you everything on how to top Spain but ohh, just order some German-ish breakfast first while I sit here and act like a stuffed owl"-act! Stop that, it's drives me nuts! Just… just tell me about it already! About your stupid sexventures with Antonio and all that other freaky kind of crap… tell me, before I'll start chewing on the _legs_ _of the_ _table_!'

'What! Now that's _preposterous_!' Austria spat, _this_ close to spitefully smacking down his soft little handkerchief on the table, 'Romano, you've just compared me to a stuffed _owl_!'

I just… just _stared_ at him. _That's_ what he was worried about?

'…Austria, seriously, if you don't start explaining yourself soon, I'll start "comparing" your _face_ with this candlelight!' I warned, sharply inhaling some air.

'But I—'

'And with _comparing_, I mean _smashing_! _Smashing _your _face_! With this… this thing!'

I held up the small, cutesy candlelight.

Austria only blinked.

'And… and don't be fooled by its soft, pink appearance! The sides of this bad boy are almost _pointy! _See? I could most likely _scratch_ you with it!'

'You are a very strange person.' Austria simply stated.

'…_you_ call _me _strange?' I gripped the candleholder a bit firmer and felt a couple of tiny facial muscles close to my right-eye tightening themselves, twitching spastically. '…shit, you freaky asshole, I ought to—'

'_Indeed_.' The serious Austrian nodded solemnly, rebelliously cutting in like the foureyed-bastard he was. '…and in spite of your unreasonable threatening, you're _right_, Romano: I should – oh, _please_ put that silly candle-thing away already, will you – tell you all about me, and Spain, and the… hum… sexual history we share.'

He tugged a bit on his dusty (I wish I was kidding, but wasn't – it really was fucking _dusty_) tie, looking kind of uncomfortable for the _very first_ time this morning – and I was glad he became uneasy, because this proved he was actual huma—um. Country…ish. Something like that. The hell I know.

However, even though Austria now _sounded_ like he'd tell me about his specific part of Antonio's curious sextour, I still wasn't sure about it – not after his stupid owl-comment – and I clacked my tongue.

'Yeah? You'll tell? About you and Antonio and all the sex you had and how to top him during dinner? All of it?'

'Yes, that's what you're expecting of all the countries that once took the overhand during intercourse with Spain, aren't you?' Austria restored his original, unmovable posture. '…you expect us to give you _advice _on how to overpower him. Right?'

My face must have become a lot whiter than I was used to, 'cause my face suddenly felt cold. _Crap_. I had completely forgotten about the fact that he already _knew _about the reason of my visit – hell, it had even _slipped my mind _that I still had to ask him about how he knew of my plan! G-goddammit, I shouldn't forget important shit like that!

…well, might as well ask him now.

'Now that you're talking about it… t-that's something I'd also like to ask you. H-how…' I started, stammering.

'Hm? How I know that, is that what you want to ask? Oh, Germany told me a couple of days ago.' Austria explained. 'He had heard it from Prussia.'

I forcefully gritted my teeth. 'D-damn, that fucking asshole was supposed to keep his yap shut!'

He snorted. '_Really _now? Well, then you should've told him -_and _the other two countries you've visited so far- a bit _better_, Romano: your plan is pretty much _the_ talk of Western Europe.'

WHAT.

…

…

…

OH _SHIT_.

'T-_the_ talk of Western Europe?' I gasped, staring at the weirdo in front of me with eyes that felt strangely dry and painful, '…y-you can't be serious! Don't they have anything better to do than…than _talking_?'

He rolled his eyes. 'It's _very_ unlikely they have. I mean, as you _might_ have noiced, Europe hasn't got a lot of wars going on lately and the countries don't have a lot of interesting things to do. Furthermore, most of them (like Belgium and France) are feeling a bit ill, so there's not much they _can_ do - aside from talking and gossiping.'

No matter how aloof the tone of the musical Austrian was, it still got on my nerves in the most stressed-out kind of way. C-come on, if the whole of Western Europe was talking about my plan… and if even _other_ countries like Austria, (probably) Switzerland and –_oh sweet Jesus have mercy- _**_Hungary_** (already) found out about my fantastic topping –plan… then there _could _be a possibility that Antonio would find out!

And if Antonio would find out, he'd…

…

…um.

Well, I have no fucking idea just how he'd react on that, but I didn't want to know it either! This was _my _plan! _My _trips around Europe! _My _quest to find out more about Antonio's past! …c-concerning sex, of course… it wasn't like his used-to-be-troublesome life _interested _me or something… hell no. It was all part of the sexy research, baby.

'Romano?' Austria waved a hand in front of me, '…is there something the matter?'

I grumbled and pushes his hand out of my sight. 'N-_no_, dammit… just start telling already.'

And he did.

…after the female waiter (she had suddenly popped up out of nowhere again, _WTF_, bitch scared the freaking _shit_ out of me) had brought us our orders.

_Then _he did.

**XxX**

'Romano. You know Spain and I once were married to each other, don't you?'

Austria didn't even look up from his gross, weird _Semmel-_bread when he said this and calmly stirred into his cup of gross, weird coffee.

I _did _look up from my food, though – my head just _snapped _up – and nodded, automatically directing my wandering eyes to the fingers of the both of his hands. There was no ring. Anymore.

'Y-yeah, I know that, yes.' I muttered.

'Good.' Austria used his fork and knife to slice off a little bit from the _Semmel_ carefully, as if he was scared to break it.

'You…' I hesitated, but forced myself to continue, '…you and Sp- Antonio _had_ to marry each other, right? It was for the sake of your countries… right?'

Finally, he tore his gaze of his bread and scowled. 'That's quite _obvious, _Romano. Our former rulers thought it was a fantastic idea to unite the countries of Austria and Spain like that – perhaps they liked the hidden symbolism behind it – to strengthen their bonds and to become a better country of it in general: we can _all _learn a thing or two from each other, after all.'

'Did you like it?' I asked him, out of the blue.

Austria's scowl became smoother. 'Learning, you mean? Well, it's always a good thing that we can learn from each other…'

'No no, that's not what I mean… I'm talking about…' I took a quick breath, '…being married to Antonio.'

'Oh. I see.' he soberly said.

'Did you like being married to him?'

The Austrian took another bite from his fork, looking thoughtfully.

'At the very least, I didn't _dis_like being married to that overtly happy idiot. Even before our marriage, he was a good friend of mine – well, _most_ of the time, if he wasn't bothering me with France and/or Prussia – and despite our colliding personalities, we went along just fine. That was rather unusual, I suppose, but it apparently was possible. Then one day, my former ruler told me I'd get wedded to Spain. Now that was a big shock – a big shock for the both of us: because we were friends, we didn't know to be happy about getting married or to feel bad about it. It was a very conflicting feeling. Quite annoying.'

'But… you were okay with it, right?' I initiated.

Austria shrugged. 'Well, it's not like we had a _choice_, Romano – if our rulers wanted us to marry, we'd marry. If they wanted us to eliminate each other, we'd probably do that just as easily. It's a _rule_, Romano – you do what the most important people of your own country _tell_ you to do, and that's _that_. _**But**_, if you really want to know the truth…'

He grabbed his cup of coffee and took a long sip. _Too _long of a sip.

'…then yes,' he continued after that, softly smacking his lips, '…yes, I was "okay" with having Spain as my politically-wedded partner. After all, he's… what shall I call it… _funny_.'

My lips bend upwards into small smile and I quickly hid it behind my glass of orange juice.

'…he's funny, yes.'

Not to mention handsome and hot and passionate as _hell_, especially when he came out of the shower, wearing nothing more but a smug smile (_oh __**god, fucking sign me in for a show like that**_)… but no shitting way I was ever going to tell the boring Austrian _that_.

'Now…' Austria coughed, '…maybe it's not very wise of me to tell you what I'm about to tell you, but… well, after spending a couple of married years with him, I… kind of became attracted to Spain.'

…

I didn't respond, although my facial expression probably said it all.

'He was an interesting man. A _very_ interesting man. During our marriage, he smiled a lot and sometimes teased me by calling me _Rodrigo_, even though he knew I absolutely loathed the name: it wasn't even _close _to my own human name. I decided to call him _Ferdinand _out of spite – which was a _very_ clever spin-off of one of his names, if I may say so – but I stopped calling him that when I discovered he actually _adored _that name. But… but then.'

He paused for a moment, but then carried on.

'Then… I all of a sudden started calling him _Ferdinand_ again, because I discovered that I really _liked_ it whenever I did something that Spain liked. After realizing _that_, I even allowed him to call me by _his_ horrible pet-name. And _then… _well, then everything became pretty clear to me.'

'You had fallen in love with him.' I concluded quietly.

'Yes. I… Yes. I had. He, however, _hadn't_.'

The Austrian remained surprisingly calm and grabbed the small jar that was filled with yellowish/orange jam, removing the lid.

'Just to ease your mind: nowadays, I'm not in love with him anymore – good _gracious_, just the thought alone makes me feel awkward now. And as you are no doubt aware, I've found the love of my life in the form of another wonderful nation, thankfully enough. You know her very well. She's… well. I'm not going to tell you in detail about what kind of great nation she is, but to me, she's _music_.'

...

Huh.

Well, I guess everybody has his/her own way to describe the evilness that is Hungary.

'So Antonio didn't have feelings for you at all?' I asked the Austrian, conveniently ignoring the things he had said about Hungary because I couldn't care less about his strange relationship with that even stranger woman. God knows what the two of them are up to whenever they are alone together. _Brrr._

'Feelings, you say? I assume you mean feelings of love, right?' Austria sighed and shook his head firmly, looking pretty determined. 'Romano, I can _assure_ you he didn't have any feelings like that, not at _all_. He saw me as a friend – and nothing more than that. Of course, he happened to be married to me, but his platonic feelings for me remained the same.'

I frowned. Weird, but I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. Yeah… I also knew how hard it could be to be in love with a clueless Spaniard who's presence couldn't only light up an entire room, but also cause frustrating, conflicted feelings, at _exactly _the same time, just because you fear it's an one-sided love…

'He didn't love you, you say...' I stopped for a minute to chew on a piece of bread, pursuing the subject after I had swallowed the bread. '…but… you two _did_ have sex, right?'

'…we… _did _have sexual intercourse, yes. Sometimes.' The voice of the aristocratic-looking Austrian became a bit quieter, a bit more nervous, '…but only because _**I**_… hum. I _really_ wanted… _ngh_.'

Hm. If I was feeling sadistic and wanted to torture him for a little while, I'd sit back and grin broadly, watching the mumbling dork struggling with his words even though I already knew what he was going to say.

'So Antonio didn't really wanted to have sex with you?' I (maybe accidentally but not really accidentally) prompted, a bit loudly, only to back off when Austria shot me a poisoned glare.

'_Please_ keep your voice _down_!' he hissed, his face heating up, '…of _course_ he didn't mind to do… _that_ with me! We were supposed to do… _that – _we were _married_, after all! It was perfectly normal for us to do such activities!'

I smirked. 'Yeah? You both wanted to do each other just as much? Really?'

'Ugh, you're so _vulgar... _'Austria shuddered, picked up his handkerchief and wiped his face and neck. '…I wonder how Spain keeps up with that moody temperament of yours!'

…what the _fuck_?

Just like that, my face fell and my smile disappeared. 'Okay, _first_ of all, _he's _the one with the fucked-up mood-swings, not _me_. Hell, at times, he can be so fucking confusing that he even makes _Russia's _personality seem downright _normal!'_

Austria made a muffled noise and folded his arms.

'And _second_… don't change the subject!' I said, putting my hands on my hips (yes, while sitting – I tell you, _that's_ a wacky thing to do while sitting). '…I mean, I don't have all day long, you know? I promised Antonio to come back soon, so…'

'So you need me to hurry up – alright then.' Austria stopped pouting and pursing his lips (and I was glad he did, 'cause it looked creepy) and shoved away his now empty plate, breathing in slowly.

'Right. Hum. Well. As I was saying… Spain didn't mind to have… sexual intercourse with me. But at the same time, it wasn't like he really _wanted_ to – I could tell that he'd rather do something else instead of that, like… well, gushing about tomatoes, for instance, or talking about… hm. _You_.'

'M-me?'

Damn, I could actually _feel _my face warming up.

'Yes, you – it was around that time you moved in with Spain, remember?'

'I'm not sure…'

'Well, I am.' He gave a soft, annoyed "tsk!" and cleared his throat, '…but I digress. You see, Spain always agreed to spend the night with me, even if he didn't feel like doing it – I guess he just wanted to avoid unpleasant situations and was too good of a friend to turn me down.'

'And _you_ topped him, right?'

Holy shit! Wow, look at me, firing all these confronting questions at the Austrian! God, I was feeling pretty dang _feisty_ today!

Austria moved around a bit on his chair. 'Yes.'

'And ho—'

'He wanted to be the one dominating, though.'

'Wait… seriously?' I looked at him in surprise, '…he didn't want to be on bottom… and you _still_ managed to top him? Even with all of your wimpy-ness?'

Austria made a sour face. 'Yes. Even with all of my wimpy-ness.'

'But… but _how_?' I asked him, pretending to haven't heard his comment.

'I _absolutely_ didn't want to be the one on bottom.' The brown-haired man furrowed his brows. 'I had done my share of research about _that _kind of intercourse, and I had found out that when two males are having sexual relations, the man _receiving_ "it" would experience the most pain. And I didn't like the idea of experiencing pain while having intercourse, so I demanded Spain to be the submissive one.'

I stared at him. 'And he agreed?'

'Yes. After I had sternly wagged my finger in front of his face and told him that I expected him to be the one on bottom, he yielded. Begrudgingly – because he _did_ whine about him obviously being the more dominating one of the two of us... and about me, being a wuss – but in the end, I still won. Somehow.'

…

God. I don't know why, but I could totally picture it: Antonio, lying flat on his back – with Austria _somewhere_ on top of him – wondering aloud why the _fuck_ he wasn't flipping the (no doubt very clumsy) fake-German over already. They'd probably be having a conversation about it.

'…_um, Rodrigo?'_

'…_what is it?'_

'…_can I please take over?'_

'_Oh no, out of the question, Ferdinand!'_

'_But I'm boooored!'_

'_Still your tongue! Just let me read this handy sex-manual already while I sit on your chest and desperately try to be smothering hot!'_

'_Aww, at least get me a blanket, my legs are freezing!'_

'_Shush!'_

…

…my god, _that_ kind of sex couldn't have been good. It just… just couldn't have been good.

**xXx**

In the following 30 minutes, Austria told me more about his and Antonio's awkward, not-so-sexy-times between the sheets.

…

God, I wish he hadn't.

Because… guess what? According to the rest of Austria's stuttering story, the sex really, _really_ wasn't good at all. He compared the whole activity to "anxiously looking around for his keys in the dark in a small, damp tent full of mosquito's".

That's right: he had compared it to _camping in the wild._ And that _never _was a good comparison.

Apparently, he and Antonio only had sex two, maybe three times – and they even _stopped_ during the third and last time they had sex time because Antonio _had finished the comic-book he was reading during all of it and wanted to take a new one out. _

WHAT.

Of course, Austria was hurt and offended by all of this, Antonio was too stupid and oblivious to know why, then they suddenly were allowed to get a divorce – which opportunity the both of them took right away since the uncomfortable tension had become too much and unbearable for them to live with – and then the two of them were single again.

For a while.

Until Hungary got her paws on Austria and Antonio fell in love with yours truly.

…

Shut up, I wasn't beaming at all, d-dammit.

…

At least Antonio and I _did _always have very good sex with each other.

…

B-but anyway…

Austria also explained to me that he had thought the friendship between him and Antonio had seemed to be over after their fiasco-marriage, but he couldn't have been more wrong about that, since their friendship only got _better_ now that they weren't around each other anymore, ironically enough. He said it was a relief for the both of them to act like normal nations again, and as for that, he forbade Antonio _and_ himself to ever use their human (pet)names again when addressing to each other.

…well, and that was Austria's part of Antonio's bottoming-experiences.

**XxX**

When Austria and I left the (still oh so very beautiful) restaurant to go for a random stroll in the park nearby, I noticed I wasn't really eager to stay very much longer to hear out Austria's "advice", because…

…well, to be honest, I was afraid I'd bore Antonio to _death _if I had the guts to follow Austria's advice, _whatever _that advice could be. And that would be _horrible._

…

Still, I was curious about why Austria had kind of _ordered_ me to have a romantic dinner with Antonio tonight. He had said something about "overwhelming" Antonio during dinner… and that sounded exciting enough to give the prude Austrian a second chance.

…

Especially when the bastard suddenly admitted (while walking and telling me stuff about some statues in the park) that _Hungary _had given him a particular piece of advice to tell me.

…huh. So that meant she knew of my plan as well. Just what I feared.

…

Well, fuck my life.

**XxX**

'Right. Romano, you're still planning to have dinner with Spain tonight, aren't you?'

The Austrian gave me an intense look that gave me the shivers – and not the good kind.

'Um… yeah, I've planned something like that, yes.'

'Great.' He nodded, content with my answer, and came closer to me. '…now, listen carefully, this is what you should do.'

'Yes?'

'First, you should make sure that you're the one cooking. Make his favorite dinner, add a little something special and he should be very pleased with you. Also, wear a nice suit or something, try to make it special.'

'Me cooking, favorite dinner, nice suit…' I muttered, surprised and mentally saving the tips when I realized this bit of information actually was pretty _good_, coming from Austria/Hungary. Hell, it even sounded kind of _logical_!

'Don't forget to put on some rather… hum… _sensual_, romantic kind of music while having dinner with him.' Austria said, pronouncing the words "sensual" and "romantic" kind of unnaturally, '…and give him a lot of meaningful, loving compliments. Make sure you're acting charming enough to make him blush and swoon for you – and please stop giving me that freaked-out look, it irritates me, it's like you don't expect me to be capable of thinking romantic things.'

I opened my mouth. Luckily, I was wise enough to close it again right away.

'And finally, after showering Spain with compliments, good food, and maybe a _passionate_ innuendo or two, you should have become brave enough to take him to your bedroom and continue your flirtations there. Of course, you can also choose to stay where you are and continue _there, _but it's up to you.'

'Music, compliments, be charming, take initiative…' I nodded, smiling mildly as I looked up to the sky, listening to the carefully articulated words of the Austrian.

This dinner-plan was good… no, _very _good! I mean, if I executed it exactly like Austria (or actually, Hungary) had told me to, it could actually _work_. With the food, the music, the compliments and stuff…

…

Oh god. I could totally top Antonio tonight! No, I _would _totally top Antonio tonight!

…

Perfect! Just fucking _perfect!_

Hmm. Now _what_ should I make for dinner…?


	23. Rear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: That's it – I'm officially out of butt-songs. Aww… To make things worse, the title of this chapter isn't even a song, it's an __**album**__ – and a very EVIL and PERVERTED one on top of that. Don't listen to it! Don't even look at it! Next week, I'm going to start all over again with the butt-songs… 'cause there are more songs with 'ass' and 'back' in their titles… Oh yes, trust me…_

_A/n2: …I've read a couple of seme!Lovi-fics lately, and I must say… my GOD, those authors are amazing, making Romano so damn manly and rough! And Spain apparently __**likes**__ it rough! _0_0;;; _Well, nothing surprising there, actually. _XD _Hmm, I'm not planning to make Lovi like that, though – hell, I'm still hesitating if I should even let him top at all! I'm so fond of seme!Toni… He's hot! _OTL… _Oh well… we'll see. _^^

_A/n3: This chapter, with all of its mentions of Spanish cities and the mentions of the lovely ingredients of paella and Romano cheese and other wonderful stuff, was powered by Wikipedia – the Wisemaker. _*slapped for making old Mentos-reference* _Yay for the miracles of internet! Huzzah!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXIII:

_**Rear End  
**__**(Mercedes)**_

Let me blow your mind with the _Winning Meal of Total Toppingness_ that I was going to prepare for tonight's dinner:

Paella, _**bitch**__._

Yes – _paella_! I was going to make paella for Antonio! Also knows as stereotypical Spanish food! BUT… it wouldn't be "just" some smelly, sticky paella that every retarded fool could cook – oh no no _no_, I'm talking about the really _good _stuff here! I'm talking about...

Classic, _mixed_ paella. Ooh _yes_.

Mixed paella consisted of white rice with all kinds of random shit that the smiley bastard loved so dearly thrown in with it, like… oh, say, tomatoes, paprika, tomatoes, garlic (but not too much of it, dammit, I wouldn't like to make out with him if he ate too much of it), tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes, chicken, seafood (shrimp tails, chopped cuttlefish), some seasoning, tomatoes, a little bit of saffron, and then, finally, some… _grated_ _tomato_.

…

It was different, because it was grated.

…

Oh, fuck you.

**xXx**

But anyway!

Now that I had thought of a wonderful meal to create this evening (a wonderful meal that would make Antonio blush and swoon and gush and get all submissive and pantless), I guess it was time for me to grumble a quickly-spoken "thank you" and "good-bye" to the foureyed Austrian, jump back into the piece of garbage that Antonio called "car", go get the ingredients for my mouthwatering paella-plan and drive back home.

And then I'd cook for him.

And _screw_ him.

In that order.

But not at the same time.

God no. That would be kind of messy.

…

Anyway, this evening would be fucking _fantastic_.

I think.

…

Better keep him away from the bookcase, though.

**xXx**

After leaving Austria, I went to Spain.

To the _country_, I mean. Not (yet) to the idiot in my House that was now probably sticking up some _churros _in his mouth, onto his eye-teeth and imitating a walrus while sitting in front of a mirror, laughing his ass off.

…

I know for sure he did stuff like that when I wasn't around, dammit.

Well, I hoped he would amuse himself with his stupid _churros_ for a few more hours, because it could take a while before I'd come back home: I had to buy ingredients for the mixed paella, remember? And no way I was going to use tasteless, _fake _grocery store-shit for it – no, like I said, I was going to buy the _real _shit! On a _real _Spanish market! For _real!_

So if that meant I had to travel across Spain for a while (from Barcelona to Valladolit to Vigo to Madrid to Córdoba to Valencia to back at Barcelona again), stopping here and there to get me tangy tomatoes, fresh seafood, hot spices and the best rice of the country, paying every happy Spaniard – seriously, was _every_ Spaniard a goddamn _Antonio_? – at good price to get the best of the best… hell, then I'd do it in a heartbeat!

And so, I _did _do it in a heartbeat!

**xXx**

Needless to say, I was really fucking _proud_ of myself when I came back home, late in the afternoon.

Antonio's crappy car (that could break apart _any time_, _any day_ now) was fully loaded to the fucking _roof_ with the most lip-smacking-tastic ingredients I had managed to find during my super-quick trip through the cities of Spain. All shit was fresh and fruity and very, _very_ suitable for tonight's dinner.

_Heh_.

I smirked when I got out of the car and took out the many (at least _ten_) plastic bags – which contained all of my fantastic groceries and other important purchases – and locked the doors afterwards.

Oh yes, I was absolutely sure of it as I walked – or wobbled, since I just carried too many fucking bags and stuff – to my doorstep: I was going to score_ big time _this evening.

Just to sum up what I had brought with me for tonight's dinner: the right _food_, the right _clothes_ (a pretty nice, casual suit I got at this _Zara-_retailer, which turned out to be a lot less tacky than I had expected it to be), I also had brought the right _wine punch _with me (sangria from Spain – oh, plus a weird pitcher in which the reddish drink had to go for reasons I never bothered to understand) and _yes_, I even got the right _music_ (…well, I actually couldn't read the strange words on the CD and I didn't even know what the CD was all about, but the cover looked nice and Spanish and colorful and I just really, _really_ had to hurry up at this point because I didn't want to come back late, so I had just grabbed something and hoped that Antonio would like it, but he probably would, since he's an idiot).

Ooh, _god, _he was _so _going to _love_ this!

…

Well, sure, if he'd find out that I had spent all of his last money on food and clothes, _maybe_ he wouldn't exactly jump up in the air from pure happiness – to be honest, I think it was more likely for him to fall down on the floor in despair and _sob_ – but _hell_, as the Country of Passion, he'd completely understand if I explained it to him! And I'd pay him back!

Eventually! Yeah! Sure! I'd gladly pay him back!

But.

…h-he only accepted public kisses and hugs as a payback, d-dammit – believe me, I talk out of experience. O-oh _shit, _so that meant I probably was doomed to get publicly kissed and hugged by the Spaniard until at least the end of the fucking _year_ from this day on!

…

I-I could think of worse things, though.

…a-anyway…

I could hardly contain my own trembling when I looked for my keys and cussed for a minute or two when I couldn't find the annoying things right away – _that's _just how nervous – I-I mean, _excited _I was.

Okay. There were my keys.

My brain hurt a bit from overflowing thoughts of anxiety… n-no, of _pure and utter joy _as I silently mused about all the wonderful, y-yet _different_ sex to come, when I unlocked the door of my House.

S-so… if I wanted this plan to succeed, I had to walk in the House very quickly and yell extremely _mannishly_ at Antonio to get dressed up (nicely!) and that he should stay upstairs until I had finished cooking paella and stuff. Yes…

Oh! Wait! But I shouldn't forget to also set the table before telling him to come down!

And I had to get dressed _myself_, too! And _no way_ I was going to cook in my new, cool suit, dammit, no matter how run-off-the-mill it was! I wanted the evening to be pretty much as freakishly perfect as it could be and so there was no room for annoying smudges on my suit!

…

…unless the smudges would be the result of… y-yeah… t-_that_, yes…

…

I was such a fucking pervert._  
_I growled softly and smacked my head into the front door.

_Come __**on**__ now, pay a bit more attention, Lovino, no more time to think about dirty smudges and other gross stuff! You should fucking focus on your damn goal already, dammit! And that's __**preparing**__ yourself! F-for __**dinner**__, obviously! And maybe, after dinner, you'll get the opportunity to prepare someone __**else **__(like a very hot Spaniard) for a change, instead of the other way around…_

God. I dug my teeth into my bottom-lip and shivered, bonking my head against the door a second time. Oh _god_. Now that all of my preparations had been so damn good that it certainly looked like I was going to _win _this night, I…

…I was getting nervous. I-I just didn't know if I was up for this, if I was _ready_ for this yet…

I mean, sure, I'd _love_ to top Antonio, I'd _love _to (…probably) become the first nation who Antonio personally allowed to _do him_ out of _love_, b-but…

…

…oh, I-I don't _know_, dammit, but there was still this quiet, unsure voice in the back of my head, whispering "but" over and over again, making me hesitate…

…

Maybe I should smash my face against the door just a few more times. That could help.

Or not.

But it was worth a try.

Or not.

I should do it, though.

Or n— oh, _**fuck**_ it all!

I cursed harshly, hating my unsure nature and inexperience on topping more now than I had ever done before, and slowly leaned back my head a bit more, all of a sudden _snapping_ it forwards again in order to smack some _sense _in it with the help of the kind and very _hard_ front door, that my unfortunate face could meet any moment now…

…but my face never crashed into a hard front door.

Instead, my face crashed into a soft, warm and familiar _chest_.

**xXx**

A gentle smile, a pair of arms that calmly enclosed themselves around my shocked body.

'Ah, welcome back home, Lovino…'

Oh.

Oh _crap_.

His sweet, tempting voice, that still _somehow _was able to keep the innocent tone, made me grasp my many bags tighter as I silently stood there, face pressed against Antonio's torso with eyes _wide_ _open_, my mind completely _bewildered_ and also partially blown up to pieces.

W-what for the _fucking love of crap_ was this? Why the _hell_ had Antonio opened the door? He was supposed to be lying in bed, upstairs, coughing, whining about his fever, sipping gruesome herbal tea and sticking _churros_ on his teeth!

And… and he… he wasn't supposed to open the door for me, hugging and greeting me all _sensual _and shit! Th-that wasn't fucking planned, I hadn't fucking planned that, I fucking fucking fucking _hadn't_, dammit!

…

…a-and yet, here he was. Hugging me, holding me.

…

A-and smelling _very_ nice. L-like homemade spaghetti with Bolognese sauce and a shitload of _Pecorino Romano_…

…oh, _please_ spare me your stupid, witty comments, I'm talking about _cheese_, dammit. _Good_ cheese. Hmmm…

…

So anyway…

I cautiously moved my face away from his chest a bit, glancing up to the beaming Spaniard above me.

'…A-Antonio? Y-you're up?'

'I'm up, yes! I'm out and about!~'

He laughed a bit, but quickly replaced his amused chuckles with a surprised gasp when he saw my face. He instantly placed his hands to the sides of it.

'L-Lovino, what's wrong? W-why is your forehead so red and sore?'

'B-because I banged the door with it, dammit…' I muttered, faintly wondering what I should do with the bags for the time being.

Antonio blinked. 'You… banged the door with your forehead?'

I instinctively scowled. 'You got a problem with that?'

'Well, you could've opened the door _normally_, you know…'

'_Fuck_ you, opening doors normally is for… stupid… amateur-dooropeners, dammit!'

…

…amateur-dooropeners, Lovino? _Really_? Oh my GOD…

The Spanish nation stared at me for a little longer, before a mild, loving smile appeared, tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. He brought my face closer to his own and tilted it up, placing a couple of teasing kisses on my own, slightly parted lips.

'Hmmnn… oh, I _love_ _it_ when you make up new words like that, ahaha…'

I blushed and wanted to tell him to fuck off, but his mouth then kind of muffled any noises that tried to come out of my own.

So I decided to… w-well, let him kiss me for a while… bastard knew exactly how to kiss me, so he was aware of what he had to do to make me stop thinking…

But even if I had _wanted_ to, I knew I couldn't stay in this position for too long, since both of my hands were starting to hurt pretty badly now – damn you, plastic bags with you evil handles of sharpness!

Still, I sort-of was glad the handles were hurting me: thanks to the pain, I was able to avoid getting totally swept off my feet by the romantic ambiance (Spanish jerk was too stupid to get his own economics, but had a fucking _major_ in passion), so if I wanted to, I could still snarl at Antonio that he should go dress himself and let me make us dinner…

'Ah? What's that, Lovi?'

Oh. Looks like the stuff in my hands had finally caught Antonio's eye as he, scatterbrained as he was, had immediately stopped appreciating my lips (fucking moodkiller) to look at the bags in curiosity.

I made a weird little sound and quickly rubbed the sleeve of my button-down over my mouth, almost smacking Antonio in the face with the groceries dangling on my hand in the process.

'O-okay, about the stuff that I've brought with… me…'

I paused for a bit. I really wanted to tell him that I was planning to cook fabulous mixed paella á la Lovino for the both of us, but then I _smelled_ something. Something _good_.

I turned and inhaled deeply. It came from out of the kitchen – and damn, now that I thought about it, it smelled _exactly the same_ as that lovely smell I had noticed when my face had been tucked in Antonio's chest… yes, I smelled… I smelled…

Motherfucking spaghetti with Bolognese sauce and _Pecorino Romano_!

…

W-what the… why… I…

I instantly dropped the bags on the floor. _Thump_.

'You're… you're making _dinner_?' I heard myself stammer helplessly, staring at the half-opened door of the kitchen somewhere further down the hallway.

Antonio looked at me again and smiled enthusiastically. 'Yes!~ I felt good enough to cook today – ah, isn't that just wonderful?~ It's probably a sign that I'm getting better, Lovi!'

'You don't say.' I swallowed, then swallowed a second time because I'd drool all over the place if I didn't.

God, Antonio was an _amazing_ cook. Seriously, people could wake me up in the middle of the night for a taste of his cooking. He hadn't been able to make some good meals during his sickness, but now that he was – apparently – getting better again, I was pleasantly reminded to Antonio's blatant cooking-talent. _Fuck _yes!

...

But… but what about my paella-plan?

I stared at the bags on the floor and thought of nothing special for a minute or two – probably because all of this was too sudden and too unexpected for my mind to process it right away – when Antonio slipped behind me and placed his hands on my waist, moving them up and down the sides of my body carefully as he softly pulled me against his lanky, yet surprisingly _muscular_ frame.

'I know how much you love spaghetti, my love…' he said in a low, husky voice, '…so I thought it would be nice to surprise you with your favorite meal tonight…'

I couldn't prevent a shiver running down my spine when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the nape of my neck.

'Y-you bastard… I-I can't believe you did that, d-dammit…' I muttered with a huff, but rolled my head to the side to give the Spaniard more access to my neck nevertheless.

'You don't like it?' Antonio asked quietly, his hot breath caressing my already damp skin.

I frowned and flushed at the same time. I noticed my eyes were getting a bit hazy because of the oh so very light touches of the man behind me, but did my very best to act normal.

'…o-of course I like it, you idiot… L-like you said, it's my favorite meal, dammit… it's just…'

'Just what, hm?~'

'I-_**I**_ wanted to make us dinner.'

A short silence followed, a silence that was eventually ended with an amused little laugh.

'…ah, I know, Lovino… I know.'

I gulped, automatically. F-fuck, he sounded _exactly_ like he did this morning, when he had pretty much _attacked_ me with his—

Wait.

Wait a minute.

Crap, he… he _knew?_ He knew I had wanted to cook this evening? How? When? Did he also know _why? _Who the _fuck_ had told him that, d-dammit, who's fucking head did I have to glare off!

Antonio must have felt my startled body was suddenly stiffening _rock solid __**right**_ on the freaking spot, because he quickly gave me a clumsy hug and cleared his throat, sounding a bit nervous when he spoke again.

'O-okay, don't get angry now, but I… kind of called Hungary up earlier today – ah, I hope you don't mind I used your phone… you know, the white one, with the silly shape—'

My eyes snapped open. 'You… you _called Hungary?_'

'Y-yes, I did…' He quickly tightened his grip around me when I started to struggle against his arms, '…b-but only because I had no better options left, Lovi!'

I tried to glare at him over my shoulder. 'What the fuck do you mean, "no better options left"? You had _tons _of options! You've got stupid friends _everywhere_! Fuckface France! Albino-freak Prussia! Belgium! Just to name a few! They're _all_ way better friends of yours than… than _fucking __**Hungary**_, and yet…'

'I-I know, but – ouch!' Antonio winced visibly when I pinched his arm, '…b-but I was bored! And Francis wasn't home! And Gilbert was busy (being **awesome**)! And Feli and Belgium didn't answer their phones! And I couldn't call Austria, because you were with him, so then I decided to call Hungary…'

'Seriously, do you really consider her a _friend_ ?' I hissed.

'Yes, of course! She's a great friend of mine – she's my best friend, right after Austria!'

I found myself at a loss of words.

'Of course,' Antonio blabbered hastily, '…if had to sum up all of my friends – starting from "very best friend" to "not-so-very-best friend" – I'd have to start with Francis and Gilbert, then Feli, then Femke, then Austria, then Hungary, then Greece and so on… But really, Hungary's my friend! Ah, I know I don't call her as often as I call Francis or Gilbert, but—'

'_Alright _already, I get the fucking picture, dammit…' I interrupted him with a small sigh, feeling myself calm down a bit as I reluctantly relaxed some more into his arms.

Antonio was caught off guard by my sudden change in attitude, but then immediately took advantage of the situation and gently, _hesitantly_, gave me another hug, his hands hovering over my stomach and hips in a silent question.

'So… you're fine with me being friends with Hungary, Lovino?' he asked.

I rolled my eyes and groaned, before I impatiently pressed his stupid hands back on my stupid body, not caring for the moment that one of his hands conveniently landed on my butt.

'W-well, there's not much I can do about it.' I growled half-heartedly, '…I mean, I can't forbid you to be friends with some crazy-assed nations, just because I happen to dislike them, right?'

'Ah, that wouldn't be nice, no…'

I could feel Antonio's hand on my ass was a very happy hand.

'S-so yeah…' I continued, wriggling into his arms and biting on the inside of my cheek when that same hand of his started to squeeze my backside and pressed his nails into the lame fabric of my pants, '…a-although I'm not happy with it, I… I won't stop you… fr-from being friends with psychopaths like Hungary, I mean!'

Antonio couldn't suppress a relieved, cheerful ( yes, _cheerful_) snort, leaning forward to place his head on my shoulder.

'How very kind of you, Lovino.'

I turned my face the other side. 'Hmpf. That's right, I-I can be very kind if I want to be... kind.'

He nuzzled my stubborn face, placing a kiss on a very red cheek.

'You're sweet, Lovi.'

'_Hmpf_.'

'And a bit sweaty.'

'_Hmp_—what?'

I looked back at him in pure horror, just in time to catch his grin and let him steal a deep, possessive kiss from me. Dammit…

…

…o-oh well.

I slowly kissed him back and wanted to part my lips for him when I felt some playful pokes of his tongue, but all of a sudden, his moist warmth was removed again, leaving me with a slightly annoyed, slightly ragged way of breathing and a half-opened mouth.

'You're a b-bastard... and I-I'm not sweaty, d-dammit…'

'Oh, yes you are!~' Antonio patted my butt a last time before grabbing my hips and spinning me around, pressing his forehead against mine, '…I feel you're sweaty, Lovi… your back is feeling wet, your _lower_ back is feeling wet, and… well, your lips felt pretty wet, too…'

'S-shut up.' I glared at him, fighting away the embarrassed blush that appeared on my face when I realized he was right.

'Oh no, please don't be ashamed, my love.' He smiled apologetically and touched my face. '…ah, my lovely Lovi… I'm so sorry for ruining your dinner-plans. 'Cause that's why you're so sweaty, right? You've been running all over Europe and trying hard to find the best ingredients to make a very romantic dinner for the two of us, like the cute little sneak that you are!~'

I scowled and noticed my legs were beginning to tremble.

'T-that evil bitch told you all about it, didn't she…'

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

'Ah, about the dinner-plans, you mean? Yes!' The Spaniard nodded happily, '…Hungary said you were planning to make the best romantic meal ever tonight… to celebrate the fact that I'm feeling better already!~'

I stared at him, but quickly came to the conclusion that the weird reason Hungary had said to Antonio (probably in order to explain my behavior of today) sounded good enough to… well, to go with it.

'Umm. Yes. Yes, that's why I wanted to make us dinner. To… celebrate.' I agreed, while I sighed in relief when I realized Hungary hadn't told Antonio about my topping-aspirations.

Good.

'You wanted to make us dinner... just for me? Ah, that's so very sweet of you, Lovi!~' Antonio said with a soft, red blush on his face, '…thank you, my love… but as you can see, I have already decided – at Hungary's advice! – to be the one cooking tonight!'

My eyes twitched. '…at _her _advice, you say?'

He smiled evasively and all of a sudden, he kissed me, kissed me _firmly _and _hungrily_, ignoring my shocked, wordless and at one point even _moaning_ protests (t-that maybe weren't even protests at all) when he swiftly shoved his hands down my back, right into my pants, groping me down there for all he was worth.

…

…

A-anyway…

After kissing the hell out of me and sucking so damn harshly on my tongue that I couldn't feel it anymore when he pulled back, he grinned sheepishly at me.

'…ah, I'm sorry, I just felt like kissing you, Lovi.'

'Y-you mean it…' I mumbled and swallowed some of the bastard's saliva, shivering as it went down my throat.

'You see, Lovi,' Antonio said, sounding ridiculously serious for a guy who just held two ass-cheeks in his hands, '…you've been such an affectionate, sweet and loving lover over the couple of weeks… taking care of me, making tea for me, being nice to other countries for me, not-killing dr. Delgado for me, making out and having sex with me… the list goes on and on, Lovino. And to be honest, I'm _amazed_ about the size of your kind, caring heart.'

Oh.

I looked at him, not knowing what to say – so I just accepted his long, experienced fingers slowly intertwining themselves with my own, while smiling a very small, flattered smile.

'F-fucking smooth-talker…'

The Spanish nation chuckled like a giddy kid. 'You love it.'

'M-maybe.' I shyly grabbed his hands a bit better.

'I'm so very thankful for all of your support, Lovino…' Antonio sighed, swaying our hands back and forth a bit, '…so I'm planning to thank you properly over the weeks that have yet to come - firstly with a nice dinner by candlelight! You'll dress yourself up really nicely, I'll dress up really nicely, I'll put up some _sensual_ Italian music and then we'll have your favorite meal.'

I frowned. Huh. Now this sounded vaguely familiar.

'During the meal, I'll shower you with compliments and I'll do my very best to make you feel special, my love, because you _deserve _to feel special.' He gave me a soft squeeze.

I got more and more flustered when the words and the order of things that would happen this night grew more and more familiar.

'I want to make you blush, to make you feel loved, to please you in every single way possible…' Antonio breathed into my ear, earning a soft yelp from me, '…and after all of that, I want to make love with you whole night long, Lovino…'

…

Damn that Hungarian _**bitch**_!

'Y-you got all of that from Hungary, didn't you?' I scoffed mildly, trying to hide my frustration as I knitted my brows together even more, '…Hungary told you to do that.'

'She did!' Antonio admitted openly, before he smiled and pressed a light kiss on my lips, '…ah, but I already was planning to do things like that with you _anyway_ this evening, Lovi… I just thought she could give me some sort of mental schedule for the romantic activities I had in mind for us! And boy, did _she_ gave me one! But, well… you know by yourself how much I fail at keeping up with schedules like that…'

I don't know if I did it willingly or unwillingly, but I smirked.

'You fucking _suck_ at keeping up with schedules, you bastard.'

'I know, right?~' He grinned, '…ah, but _you_ suck at _doing_ _other_ things, Lovi!'

I eyed him strangely. 'What the fuck's that supposed to mea—'

'Oh, nothing important.'

Antonio let go of me and made a silly, hasty gesture with his hands.

'Now, go get changed, Lovino – dinner's almost ready!~'


	24. Buns II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Oh my, it seems like I've startled a lot of good people by saying that I wasn't fully sure about letting Lovi top! _^^;;; _Ah, sorry for that. Of course, I AM planning to let Lovi top (eventually), yes – I'm just a bit scared that I might not be the right person to write it down. You know, because I'm pro-seme!Toni and stuff. I'd hate it if I wrote something fail!smutty because of that…_

_But!_

_I see it as a challenge!~ So yeah: I'm still going to write it. And I'm probably going to give a whole new dimension to seme!Lovi in the process, too. _XD _Oh, just wait and see. By the way, if any of you might have some hints or suggestion that I shouldn't forget when writing seme!Lovi, please tell me!_

_A/n2: I'm already apologizing to you for the ending of this chapter. Wonder why? Oh, believe me, you'll figure out! _*hides under table*

**** Bottoms-Up! ****

Chapter XXIV:

_**Tracey's Buns  
**__**(Dr. Manhattan)**_

Well…

After experiencing the great fucking wonders of a backfiring plan (once again), I… kind of quietly watched how Antonio went back to the kitchen, giving me a last, flirty wink and beaming smile, his face all lightened up and colored with the smallest hints of a blush as he did so.

Oh, fantastic. Just… just fucking _fantastic_.

…

…d-damn that handsome bastard…

When I was sure he couldn't hear or see me anymore, I started to fiddle and frown and stare at the bags with groceries that were lying on the floor of the hall, while my confused heart pounded against my chest like… like an overenthusiastic Belgium would pound her _Furious Fists of Sexual Frustration_ into a helpless pile of dough during her usual cake-baking activities...

'_Hahaha!~ Yay!~ __**DIE**__!~'_

…or something along those lines.

Which was goddamn _creepy_.

But nevertheless _plausible_.

What? Well, _**I**_ thought it was plausible, dammit!

…

Oh, never mind… never mind.

**XxX**

Nnn.

I really didn't know how to feel when I picked up my bags from the floor and walked up the stairs.

Despite my current uneasiness with the situation, I guess I felt kind of happy. Yeah, happy. Happy because Antonio had been nice enough to make me my favorite dinner, even though I knew he didn't really like pasta-oriented meals. He tried to hide it whenever we were eating spaghetti or tagliatelle or macaroni, but you bet I sometimes saw glimpses of his troubled face, glaring at the stuff on his plate like it was crap made by England.

So… so that was really nice of him, to place my food-preferences before his own. Especially because he'd probably do his very best to make the most munch-tastic spaghetti _ever_ for me, too, so I appreciated all of his effort.

But I also felt… kind of _beaten_.

Because let's face it: Antonio had soundly beaten me to it. To making dinner, I mean. Hell, I had planned everything for this night,_ everything_… only to realize upon homecoming that the stupid Spaniard had already gone way _further _than mere planning and was only progressing more and more as we spoke.

Now, Antonio was a bad planner. Like I said, he sucked at keeping up with shit like structure and stuff. He hated schedules and schedules hated him just as passionately. But _damn_, if he _wanted _something, no matter _what_, you could count on it that he was going to _get it_.

As for me, I didn't mind following some schedules every now and then – not too much though. Schedules could be nice and handy, especially when you were planning to top an impulsive blockhead/sexgod/moron like Antonio in bed…

…so yeah, it was a bummer when I found out that I'd probably be the one on bottom again tonight, in spite of _being ahead_ of my carefully planned schedule…

…

…o-on the brighter side, I… I knew he would do his best to… w-well… to make me feel… good. You know. Loved. And appreciated. Even more than I had in mind, probably, because for some reason, I suspected he was very much aware of my disappointment. So he'd try to make it up with me, one way or another.

And that would be nice.

…

D-damn, what am I saying, that would be _very _nice, since Antonio was _very _good at making things up with me!

Well, good! Good for him! And me!

I smiled a bit when I entered my room, sighing in relief as I felt the last bits of my mildly depressed state of mind fall off my shoulders. Right, now that was all settled and done, I should get changed already, before that sly asshole downstairs would begin to whine about me taking too long and accidentally screw up the spaghetti – and I'd never forgive myself if I let such a terrible _crime_ happen. Not in _my _House!

Okay!

I nodded determinedly and plunged my hands into one of the plastic bags that I had thrown on the bed.

Now, where had I put my epic retailer-suit again…?

**xXx**

Hm.

_Hmmm._

I furrowed my brows when I looked in the mirror, my hands fidgeting with the white cuffs of the blouse I wore underneath my new, grey suit.

Not bad. Not bad at all. My face relaxed again and I gave my reflection a quick smile. Well, what do you know: I actually looked pretty damn good in a simple suit from the retailer! My fantastic origin had to be the cause of that – come on, only true, fashion-sensitive Italians like Feliciano and myself were able to look like goddamn hunky, _Moschino_-themed_ Mafia Men_ _of Manly_ _Mystery, _even when wearing clothes of a Spanish brand with such a lame, low-class quality as -_ugh_!- _Zara_.

…

Although, putting the lameness and low-classness aside, it really was a nice suit. Yes. It fitted me like a glove and it was very comfortable to wear. Also, the quality of the suit didn't seem to be _that _bad. Which… which was a _good_ sign, since the suit would be a total waste of money if Antonio was able to completely rip it apart if he wanted to get me naked as fast as humanly/nationly possible after dinner.

And yes, _he'd want to_.

I gulped and noticed my face reddening as I scowled at seeing my single, stubborn long curl, sticking out of my hair and bouncing and bobbing up and down proudly with every move I made. And then…

…t-then I suddenly, completely out of _nowhere_, remembered Antonio's demanding green eyes again, that had looked so _temptingly, promisingly_ at me downstairs, and I tugged on my collar a bit.

O-oh no, I had no idea of how this evening was going to turn out. I really hadn't. Not the slightest clue at all.

…

B-but for some fucked-up reason, I was strangely eager to find out, d-dammit…

**xXx**

After having dressed myself up very neatly and handsomely and shit, all there was left for me to do was wait. Wait for that tomato-sucking moron in the kitchen to call me downstairs for dinner. And for romance. And for sex, probably. Lots of it.

…

So yeah. Better sit down for the time being.

I walked over to the bed and was about to charmingly flop down on it (facefirst) and wait for a shout of Antonio in that _exact_ same position without moving a muscle…

…but before I could even let myself fall flat on the bubbly (yes, _bubbly_, very, very _bubbly_, Antonio-infected-_bubbly_, dammit) sheets, there was a single soft, yet firm knock on the door of my bedroom.

_Knock._

I lowered my spread arms (wh-_what_, so I wanted to dramatize my _falling-into-fucking-bubbly-sheets_-ability a bit better by imitating a seagull crashing down from the sky – is that a fucking _crime_?) and I frowned, looking over my shoulder to shoot a glare at the door.

'That you, bastard?'

My question was answered by a gentle, for some reason a bit embarrassed-sounding chuckle – that I recognized as Antonio's immediately – and I felt myself blushing a bit, quickly straightening my suit and checking/groping my butt after a hurried glance into the standing mirror next to the bed (_damn_, that _ass _looked/felt _fine_. I began to understand why the Spanish bastard liked to randomly shove his horny hands down my pants).

A second cautious knock on the door made me look away from my tush and I sighed, walking towards the door.

'Geesh, Antonio, the door isn't locked or anything…' I grumbled and grabbed the doorknob, opening the door that was conveniently attached to it, '…and why the fuck aren't you saying anything, you…'

The next words I had wanted to say didn't get a chance to be spoken, since I was cut off with a gentle kiss on the lips.

With eyes spread open, I let the Spaniard – at least I _think_ it was him, because of the familiar brown curls and familiar sunny smell and familiar large hands suddenly resting upon my shoulders – kiss me for a while, until he pulled away and backed off a little bit with that goofy smile of his (of course, _just_ when I was getting into it, dammit).

'Hi Lovi!~ Are you ready for our date yet?'

'Date?' I heard myself stammer dumbfounded, but then looked at Antonio (yes, it actually really turned out to be him – what are the odds!) a bit better.

He… he was wearing a suit himself, too. And not just any suit – no, a really, really nice, black suit. Without a stupid bowtie (or any loser-tie), just a "natural" suit, minus the unnecessary accessory-shit. Ooh, I _knew_ that suit. It was the suit I had once brought back from Rome for Antonio long time ago, when I was out shopping with Feliciano and felt _obliged_ to buy something for the Spanish dweeb because my stupid brother was dancing and _ve_~ing around with shopping-bags, all filled with clothes and presents for the potato-bastard and I feared he'd probably see me as a bad boyfriend if I didn't buy something for my own lover as well.

And so I got Antonio an amazing and way too expensive suit, _such _an expensive suit, especially for Antonio, who didn't like to wear formal clothes at all. I had regret that purchase soooooo much, sooooo very much…

…b-but now that I saw Antonio standing in front of me, looking very _hot_ and _sexy_ and _manly_ with that… that _body-hugging_ suit of his, I suddenly wanted to call Feliciano up and demand him to come here if he wanted to see something _good_, something _perfect_, something that Germany couldn't _ever _achieve to look like, not even when wearing the coolest tux of all.

…

_Thank God _for letting me buy that suit.

**xXx**

'S-so…'

I uncomfortably cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck before looking Antonio in the eye again – who patiently waited for me to say something.

'…y-you're looking… looking pretty… pretty attracti— _normal_ tonight, aren't you, y-you asshole…'

Antonio's ever-present broad smile became even broader. 'You really think so? Ah, thank you!~ Do you recognize it? It's the suit you gave me a couple of months ago!~'

I nodded, nibbling on my lower lip. 'I-I noticed, yes…'

'It's one of the few good, nice suits I have, you know? And I only got it thanks to _you_, my love… ah, yet another sign of life of the not-so-hidden-at-all romantic inside of you…' He moved forward and gave me such a _loving_, _tender_ and _admiring_ smile, that it caused my face to overheat and my legs and arms to stop experiencing those silly things called feelings. Any feelings at all.

'B-bullcrap…' I managed to mutter while smiling and flushing timidly like the unsubtle lovestruck fool that I was, '…y-you're only saying that to sweet-talk me.'

'Ahahaha… w-well, not "only" to sweet-talk you… I kind of mean it, you know…' Antonio said, all of a sudden acting almost just as shyly as me when he sheepishly dragged his feet over the floor.

I looked up. 'Y-you really think I'm romantic?'

'I think you are _very _romantic, Lovi…' he smiled.

'…o-oh.'

'And… and you look crazily _handsome_ in that suit, if I may say so.'

'Yeah, it's… it's an okay suit…' I admitted.

Antonio nodded, but then his eyes lightened up, as if he remembered something, and he put his hands in his pocket.

'Oh, before I forget it… I've got something for you.'

'R-really…' I mumbled and my heart started to race as I watched him searching his pockets nervously.

Oh god. Oh god oh god.

I-I guess he had exchanged the ring for a smaller model sooner that I thought he would.

Crap, w-was he going to pop the question already, even though he still wasn't completely cured from his sickness? T-the hell? Was he going to ask me to m-m-marry him? Now? Seriously? B-but now it wouldn't be a surprise to me anymore!

…

Oh like _hell_, Lovino, you sad little fag, as if that even mattered to you.

…

Well, yeah, it _did_ kind of matter to me. But just a little bit. I mean, I guess it was too bad I wasn't going to be genuinely surprised anymore if he was going to ask me now… Maybe the dialogue that would no-doubt follow after would look a bit like this:

_Antonio: 'Lovi! Look at this, it's a ring! But you can't see it! Because it's within this small, black box made of solid velvet!~' _

_Me: 'Gasp.'_

_Antonio: 'And the ring is for you, my love! Do you know why?~'_

_Me: 'Yes. I mean, no. Not at all.'_

_Antonio: 'Lovino, I know this might seem a bit unexpected, but… would you like to marry me?~'_

_Me: 'Oh wow. This is so very unexpected. Please excuse my tears and girly shrieks of joy as I make a little hop in the air and accidentally smack you in the face while doing so.'_

_*insert painful silence here*_

…

Yes. Yet _another_ example of a dialogue I never wished to have with Antonio.

But then Antonio "eased" my mind, sweaty palms and rambling thoughts by taking out…

…a small, white, slightly bruised flower.

It was a little daisy.

Antonio made a funny, shocked gasp (that sounded a bit like "_gah!_")when he noticed the condition of the already slightly withering flower and he gave me a nervous glance.

'A-ah, I'm sorry, Lovi, I-I totally forgot I had this really cute little daisy in my pocket and I think I kind of crushed it by… um, well… putting it in my pocket.'

I raised a brow. 'Why did you even put it in your pocket in the first place?'

'Look for yourself, Lovi!' He shuffled closer to me and held up the dangling daisy, '…ah, you can't really see it well now, but… this afternoon, it was the nicest flower I could find in our—I mean, _your _backyard, so… so I thought, why not give it to Lovino this evening? So… here it is!'

'…oh, t-thanks, I guess. Moron.' I smiled awkwardly and wanted to take the flower out of his hand (feeling strangely relieved and disappointed at the same time about the fact that he hadn't actually pulled out a ring like I sort of had expected him to do)… only to find myself grabbing into thin air when Antonio grinned hesitantly, shaking his head and holding the flower a bit farther away from me.

'…Lovi? Can I… can I put it behind your ear?'

At hearing that, my cheeks got warmer – could be out of embarrassment, but it could also be out of amused approval.

'S-shit, you _stupid_… _idiotic_…' I grumbled, flustered and annoyed and charmed and hitting him softly on the chest with fisted hands, '…jerk… my god, y-you're such a fucking corny wuss, aren't you…'

Antonio just laughed a bit and calmly let me smack his chest without experiencing too much pain from it, keeping the daisy at a far distance from my hands.

'Bastard…' I pouted, giving him a last, lame punch before I slowly looked up at him and huffed: '…t-that's what you are. A bastard. A sneaky, lousy, perverted bastard. With your… your stupid little daisy-trick… dammit…'

'So, can I put it behind your ear, Lovi?~' Antonio smiled – apparently, the oblivious asshole had coolly _ignored_ all of my incomprehensible grunts – and gave me a hopeful look.

I frowned and averted his eyes for a moment, staring at the floor instead while I thought about his ridiculous cute request. Then I turned back and nodded.

'…s-sure, put it behind my ear. Whatever. If that makes you happy, then… w-well, okay…'

The Spaniard smiled some more and leaned towards my face, gently tilting it to the side as he placed the small flower just behind one of my auricles. The light touches of his fingers made me sigh and shiver ever so slightly and I hoped he didn't notice it.

But after the flower was safely tucked away, I heard him swallow and suddenly his hand was behind my neck, pulling my face closer to his own, catching my lips in a deep, slow kiss, slow enough to let me experience the obvious taste of tomatoes and a hint of _Limoncello_, until the both of us had to break away, panting and gasping softly.

'…ah, I love you, you know…' Antonio quietly said, a little breathless, carefully massaging the back of my neck, '…so I really hope you'll enjoy tonight's dinner, my love…'

I felt too lightheaded to respond and stared at my hands on his chest, gripping and fumbling the fabric of his suit.

'And I… _hope_ you'll forgive me.' He smiled apologetically at me as he lifted my chin, pressing another kiss to my mouth, '…you know. For… not-letting you cook dinner…'

'Hmpf…' I scowled, glaring a very fake glare at him, '…j-just make that stupid meal of yours worth my time, you ass.'

Antonio grinned happily. 'I will!~'

'Yeah, well, we'll see.'

'I will, I promise you that! And, with that having said…'

The Spanish nation abruptly let go of me and took a few steps back, bowing elegantly for me, one arm folded on his back, one clumsily held in front of his stomach, the bright smile never fading away from his face.

'…will you accompany me to the dining room, my lovely love of my life?~'

I gawked at him standing in that… that sexy butler-position of his in silent admiration, blushing and biting my unfortunate fingernails in order to prevent myself from smiling - again. C-charming bastard, d-dammit…

I had to blush and gnaw down on my nails even _harder_ when Antonio politely reached out an inviting hand towards me, raising one of his brows in an unspoken question.

_Will you?~_

'F-fucking viper…' I stammered stubbornly, but… but raised one of my own hands nevertheless, cautiously touching his own, awaiting hand for a bit, before slipping it into his completely.

Antonio blushed in delight and closed his hand around mine, bringing it to his warm chest.

'Feel that rapidly beating heart of mine, Lovi?'

I frowned confusedly and splayed my fingers. '…y-yeah, I feel it… So? W-what's wrong with it?'

'Wrong? Oh, nothing's wrong with it… but the speed, the sound, the rhythm, the feelings hidden inside of it…' Antonio smiled and sighed, '…ah, you have _full_ _control_ over all of that, Lovi. Even by _this_, a mere touch of your hand.'

My own heart fluttered. 'W-what do you m-'

'You have more control over me than you think, Lovino. So much more. Just be honest about it, my love… and I'll automatically cave for you.' Antonio said, his voice a whisper.

My heart fluttered some more. S-shit, I felt the bastard was trying to tell me something – and maybe, if my mind had been clear enough to process all of his weird innuendos, I'd probably have been perfectly able to understand what he meant, but now… well, _not _now. My brains were too busy melting from burning affection for that quirky Spaniard, so… y-yeah…

'Just… just get us to the dining room already, y-you cryptic bastard…' I muttered quietly, lacing our hands and fingers together with little effort while exhaling a little puff, '…I'm hungry, dammit…'

Antonio looked at me for a moment, his face unreadable for me. Then he smiled willingly, _excitedly_, and lowered our now intertwined hands.

'Sure thing, Lovi!~'

**xXx**

We went downstairs.

W-while holding hands.

…

God. I-it was kind of romantic, I… I guess…

As I let Antonio guide me to the dining room, I suddenly became aware of the fact that Antonio had been right about calling this a _date_ earlier: I mean, so far, all of this seemed more like an official _date_ than "just" a candlelight-dinner between two lovers to me…

…w-with the "picking up" –thing… oh, and the obvious flirting… oh, and the awkwardness that slowly changed into this very nice, very enjoyable atmosphere…

…n-not to mention Antonio's gallantness. Oh god. Bastard probably knew gallantness combined with respectful little bows made me feel like a princess—sorry, _**prince**_ and mushy crap like that…

I… I think this evening could turn out to be a really good one, oh yes, it could…

**xXx**

When we entered the dining room, I found it to be almost _unrecognizable_. I started to look around the room – all with Antonio still holding my hand – and I just couldn't believe the nice ambiance he had managed to create in here.

The curtains of the big windows were closed, very loosely, so that no one could have a curious peek inside. The relatively small, wooden table in the middle of the room was set up very tastefully, a red tablecloth with a artsy patron on it lying underneath snow-white plates (the fancy ones, the ones _without _the dents, scratches and ugly incrustation that Feliciano and I usually used).

And…

Antonio had even been bright enough tonight to place the forks, knives and spoons on the right side of the plates, and there were two wineglasses, each one standing next to a plate, together with a small glass of water. There were also – of course – a couple of antique candleholders standing on the table, those really old, almost rusty ones – that wasn't a very big surprise for me to see, since the asshole had a hard-on for old and dusty shit. The both of them were lighted, small drops of candle-grease already sliding down…

Oh, and there was music. Something Italian, no doubt.

…

…

Actually, this very situation kind of felt like that one time a couple of weeks ago, when I had come back from Prussia and found the Spaniard in nothing more than his PJ's on the couch, catching some z's because he had accidentally fell asleep while waiting for me to come back.

Yeah, this was exactly like that!

Except… except for the fact that _this _time, Antonio actually was awake. And wearing a hot suit. And acting really romantic, occasionally squeezing my hand a bit, smiling, staring at me when he thought I wasn't looking and quickly turning his head away when I looked at him…

…also, I had come back from Austria. Not Prussia.

I'm just saying.

…

Thank god he hadn't polluted the floor with silly rose-petals again.

**xXx**

'Well? What do you say? Do you… like it?'

Antonio made a grand gesture to the table and the rest of the room with his free arm, looking at me expectantly.

I gave him the smallest smile I could muster and nodded, quickly rubbing my thumb against his own, as if it was an accidental movement.

'I-it's… it's nice, Antonio. The room looks…' I coughed a bit, face flushing again, '…i-it looks…'

'Romantic… right?' Antonio said, his hands suddenly on my hips as he carefully pushed me towards the table, '…ah, I sure hope it does… I've put a lot of effort in all of this, Lovi…'

He let go of me to grab a chair and quickly pulled it backwards.

'Please sit down, my love!~'

I obliged with a heavily forced frown, feeling more and more special when Antonio even shoved the chair forwards again, until I was neatly seated at the table.

'Now…' The Spaniard placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed my hair, '…I'll go get the spaghetti with Bolognese sauce and _Pecorino Romano_, Lovi…'

'O-okay.' I fidgeted.

'Would you like some _Limoncello _with it? I could take a bottle of it with me, you know…'

Even though _Limoncello _wasn't something you were supposed to drink during dinner – it was more like some kind of after-dinner-liquor, actually – I shrugged.

'Yeah, sure, why not?'

'Okay! Good! Then I'll take some (more) of it as well!'

The Spaniard, visually feeling very proud of himself for acting like/_**being**_ the perfect boyfriend, walked towards the kitchen with a happy bounce in his step. And despite his seemingly calm posture, I noticed he was hurrying, as if he was afraid to be away from me longer than he wanted to be.

I blinked, leaning on my elbows, staring at the door to the kitchen. Then I sighed under my breath, wondering what I could do to… well… repay Antonio for organizing something freakishly sweet and caring and romantic like this very dinner-date.

I-I mean, although Antonio had got the idea to do all of this from that fucking bitch called _Horni-gary_, he really had done his best to decorate the room as good as he could… and I just knew his cooking would be just as wonderful, since he could cook like a motherfucking _chef_.

So… well, I… I-I was very much flattered and complimented and my ego was being constantly stroked by yet another soft word, tender caress or other loving gesture from the Spanish nation. I wasn't used to that. Not at all. Yeah, sure, Antonio complimented me lots of times, but _this _many at such a short notice…

…damn, it actually made me feel _good _about myself for a change!

…

A-and maybe… maybe that would be my answer on… how to repay Antonio.

By _showing _him I felt great and good and hot and stuff. And kind of turned-on.

I gulped when I thought about it. All kinds of images were flying through my head. G-god. Right here. on this table, without… removing anything – aside from the candles… Oh _yes._ It would be… w-well, it would be _something else_. Something very different. I… I even wondered if I was creative and shameful and _man_ enough to do it…

…

Well, in _this _state of mind, I _sure as fuck_ was.

Okay then. I nodded resolutely. I'd do it.

After dinner, before dessert.

**xXx**

I saw it right away when Antonio came back from the kitchen and handed me the colorful, hot bowl with steaming spaghetti, godly Bolognese sauce and _Pecorino Romano_: this was going to be criminally _good_.

And _god, _it _was _criminally good…

The warm, soothing smell of the Bolognese sauce and _Pecorino Romano_.

The perfect, simple look of the tangled spaghetti.

And, of course, the salty, tangy and oh so irresistible _taste_ of _all of it, _all combined into this fantastic, _epic_ meal that had absolutely no flaws and nothing for me to bitch about _**at all**_.

…

So it's needless to say I was starting to feel _so_ _fucking_ _extremely_ comfortable and relaxed and calm and wonderful because of the food, the ambiance, Antonio and stuff that I'm forgetting to tell, that I actually didn't know what to _do_, or how to _act_ anymore.

Kind of unsettling.

Luckily enough, Antonio didn't really notice my fucked-up behavior, because he was staring at his plate with spaghetti non-stop as if it was a plate full of worms, sometimes taking a little bite of it and making silly faces because of that.

In the end, brave Antonio still managed to eat half of the portion on his plate. On the other hand, I managed to eat at least three huge shares of spaghetti. And then there was nothing left anymore, so I had to stop. Which was too bad.

B-but maybe the things I was planning to do… would cheer me up a bit.

I just had to wait a little bit longer.

**xXx**

'Did you enjoy the meal, Lovino?'

Antonio smiled hopefully at me, collecting the dirty plates, glasses, cutlery and other kitchen-shit.

'I-I did.' I admitted, watching his hands holding and grabbing stuff from the table, and suddenly felt even hotter than I already did when I imagined them moving over my skin, between my knees, touching and feeling me as he'd intrude my body. Moving very, _**very **_carefully. And lazily. Teasingly. And… and…

Why, _yes_, it _had_ been a while (a week already?) since the last time we had sex, thank you for asking.

'Did _you_ like it? T-the spaghetti, I mean?' I heard myself ask the Spaniard, my voice sounding weird and slightly high-pitched, probably because of my own… growing needs…

…

…_shut up_, that wasn't a pun_ at all_, bitches!

Antonio smiled nervously at me. '…ah, well… I've had worse. Let's keep it at that, shall we?~'

He wanted to grab the pile of dishes, bowls and kitchen utensils in order to carry them to the kitchen, but I stopped him, out of the fucking blue, grabbing one of his wrists tightly.

'I-I think you should leave it like this, Antonio…'

He looked at me in curiosity, wincing a bit at the pressure of my grip.

'Why? Isn't it better to take it with me? I'm going to get the dessert now, so don't you think—'

'I _think… _you should leave it like this, Antonio…' I repeated, before shoving the candleholders in his direction, '…but you _can_ take _these_ bitches with you to the kitchen, if you want to.'

'…_really_?' Antonio cocked his head, just a bit, getting more and more confused, '…but Lovi, without candles, the _light of romance_ of our date will be gone! And that'd be terrible!'

'Just… just trust me on this one, okay?' I insisted, trying hard to avoid getting annoyed with the chatty idiot.

He stared at me for a few seconds longer, before complying and shrugging, taking the candles – and only the candles – with him, back to the kitchen.

The millisecond his curly hair disappeared behind the door, I shot up from my chair, almost high on adrenaline, and hastily put all of the plates and things back on their original places. Then, after I felt satisfied with what I had done, I hopped on the front of the table, the part of the table that was facing the door of the kitchen.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay then.

I sharply inhaled through my nose and started to unbutton my blouse and the jacket of my suit, until my upper body, from… well, neck to waist, I suppose, was fully exposed to the already somewhat sultry air around me.

Oh fuck, I can't believe I was doing this. I can't believe I was seriously going to seduce him on the table like this, and yet, here I was, sitting on the table (and some plates, I think), trying to look hot and bothered and really _smexy_ with my revealing torso.

The daisy was still safely tucked away behind my ear, by the way.

…

God. This could work out either the very _good_, or the very _bad_ way.

**XxX**

After a short while, Antonio came back through the door. He held two small, glass plates in one hand and a box of icecream in the other, having a puzzled expression on his face as he stared at the icecream-box.

Oh crap. I instantly tensed, gripping the sides of the table.

N-no turning back now.


	25. Back II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Chapter 25 already, oh wow! _^^ _You know, in my last fic, "This Dance", this chapter was the "Thank-You" –chapter. You know, in which I thanked my reviewers for being awesome enough to give me feedback and comments on the chapters. I'm planning to do that with this fic as well, b-but damn, there are __**so **__**many**__ great readers out there who're always reviewing and complimenting me, that I think it's going to be very difficult to do… Ah, but I certainly want to write out another "Thank-You" –chapter!~ So for now, let's just see how it goes, okay?_

_A/n2: Since "Tailfeather" is a pretty unusual butt-reference (_XDDDD_ You don't say!), I think I already have an alternative butt-name in the next chapter for it. Expect something hilarious!_

_A/n3: …t-that's right, I wrote __**smut**__. A bit earlier than planned. Oh god. Please let me know what you think of it…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXV:

_**Back Door Man  
**__**(Howlin' Wolf)**_

…

O-okay, I don't know _what _was so friggin' _special_ about that stupid box of cheap icecream in Antonio's hands, but if it was special enough for him to look at the fucking box longer than mentally necessary, even for an idiot like _him_, then I _hated_ it and wanted to brutally kill it with leftover spaghetti.

And I just _knew_ there had to be a way to do that.

…

Ugh. G-_god_, Antonio.

I breathed in and out slowly, anxiously. L-look up already, y-you mean bastard. Look at me. Just… just _look_ at me, dammi—

'Hey, Lovino?'

He looked up frowning and unprepared eyes met my own glossy, _needy_ ones.

'What kind of dessert would you like? I have vanilla-ice here, but I also have… I also have… I…'

He paused and stared at me. Then he stared at me some more.

_Shatter. Crash._

His eyes grew larger, his frown disappeared and his jaw dropped a little – just like his arms. His movements were so rapid, abrupt and sudden that the small, glass plates slipped out of his hands and crashed down on the tiles, shattering themselves into hundredths of tiny shiny pieces of glass. Naturally, the unimportant sound was effectively ignored by the both of us.

'H-hi, Antonio…' I greeted him with a soft mumble, awkwardly moving a shaking leg over the other one and almost falling off the table while doing so, '…y-you sure took your time getting that icecream, didn't you…'

'Lovi…' he breathed quietly, now looking at my naked chest with a predatory-kind of look in his eyes, '…oh my _god_, Lovi… you… you're… _sitting on the table_…'

'Y-yes, that's right, I'm very much sitting on the table…' I nodded. One of my hands started to nonchalantly touch and move up and down the warm, already slightly sweaty skin of my chest, purposely rubbing and rolling a small nipple in between careful fingers… while my other hand landed in a pile of cold spaghetti.

…

Ew. Ew ew ew _ew_. Gross.

…

S-still, the strange sensation of me touching myself and Antonio, _staring_ at me touching myself, made me flinch and sigh and narrow my eyes a bit.

I-I had never done this before… N-not in front of Antonio. When I was alone… y-yeah, stuff like this happened, of course... I'd… touch myself. Touch myself in many places. I'd touch myself in obvious, well-known places, but also in places that weren't that usual, like… like… w-well, I sometimes pulled that haircurl of mine, for example…

…b-but I never did anything like that when Antonio was close by. Never.

Firstly because… it was _fucking embarrassing_, dammit, and secondly… he… well, he could do it so much _better_ than me. It… it felt _nicer_ if it were _other_ hands than mine that pulled my curl… if it were _other_ touches than mine that flicked a nipple… if it were _other_ fingers than mine that slowly pushed and curled themselves into my…

…

A-and… and all of those _other_ hands, touches and fingers… had to be _his_. _Antonio's_.

…

But I digress.

Now, I had always… kind of thought that Antonio would _love_ it to see me do stuff (like my current nipple-pulling… _activity_) to myself. I mean, he absolutely enjoyed making perverted innuendos that suggested that I should jerk off in front of him, or prepare myself in front of him, or _do myself _in front of him…

…and now that I was actually _doing_ a bit of that, I noticed my assumptions were _oh so very __**right**_. Because…

Antonio couldn't tear his gaze away from me. He just kept _staring_ at me, staring at my hand, staring at everything I was doing and he made a soft, whining sound when I gasped and pinched a slowly-stiffening nub just a little bit _harder_ than I had done before.

'L-Lovino… Lovino…' I heard him stammer and beg, voice full of wanton already, '…please stop doing that to yourself, _please_…'

Oh?

I forgot my seductive act for a moment and blinked, confusedly. 'Y-you don't like it?'

The Spaniard's desperate expression suddenly darkened, darkened within _seconds_, and he walked towards the table, chucking.

'Oh, I _like_ it, alright… and I don't want to disturb – _dear__** god, **__certainly __not __**– **_this nice, horny mood of yours…'

He stopped when he was standing before me, threw the icecream next to me on the table and firmly gripped my upper-legs, forcefully parting them and wrapping them back around his waist. It surprised me and I fell backwards – just a bit.

Oh, _great_. Now one of my _elbows_ was stuck in the sticky spaghetti. Nice.

'But Lovi…' Antonio continued, his green eyes piercing and demanding and even kind of _confused_ as he spoke to me. '…don't _try_ me like that. Don't… don't feel yourself up like that in front of me. It'll drive me crazy. It'll get me _jealous of your __**hands**_. Seriously. It'll even make me want to do stuff to you that'll make that face of yours go even redder than it is right now, just because I want to be the _only_ one who has this… this _wonderful_ effect on you...'

'…is… is that so.' I murmured quietly, somewhat intrigued.

He nodded. 'It is.'

'Aha.' I nodded as well. '…well, in that case…'

After a split-second of hesitation, I slowly raised my unsure hand from my chest, inserted a couple of fingers into my mouth and gently sucked on them.

'…m-mmnnh…'

Antonio could only watch it happen, his face getting a fierce, crimson color, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets as I, eventually, lowered my saliva-covered fingers to my chest again, immediately took a reddening lump of dusky flesh between forefinger and thumb and s-started to _twist_ and _rub_ and _fold_ the ever-loving _crap _out of it.

Oh god. I closed my eyes and let out a few shuddering moans.

'…hah…h-haaah…'

Meanwhile, I could hear Antonio's way of breathing had become heavier. I didn't see him, but even with both of my eyes shut, I could totally imagine the bewildered bastard standing there, in-between my cramped legs, getting more and more turned on by me with every passing second and—

_Crash. Shatter._

'L-little… little fucking _tease_…'

Antonio _swore_, and all of a sudden swatted my hand away from my chest. It _hurt_, dammit, but before I could complain about the pain and the two porcelain plates that had fallen off the table, the nipple I had so very _eagerly_ abused just moments ago was engulfed by a very _hot, _very _moist _and very _angry_ Spanish mouth. _Antonio's _mouth.

O-oh _fuck, _fuck fuck… I gasped for air and clenched my teeth. _God, _I didn't know if the Spaniard _really _was mad at me – or just extremely caught in the moment – but the way he pressed his tongue and teeth against my defenseless nipple, making grunting, growling noises as he aggressively sucked and nipped, reduced me to a panting, whimpering mess.

'N-no, y-you… you… nng… haa-ah…'

_Crash_.

Another plate fell to its timely death as I let myself shove down on the table. His hand had found my other nub and pulled it ruthlessly, ignoring my half-assed protests and alarmed yelps of pain/pleasure, while his free hand went in search for my own available hand and grabbed it firmly, but not too firmly, interlacing our fingers together.

_Shatter. Crash. Bang._

And there went one of the bowls. And the bottle of _Limoncello_. And – d-damn, that was Feliciano's favorite wineglass…

'S-stop, y-you're… hah… you're… you're breaking my stuff… you… bastar… aah…'

I tried to say something, but talking while Antonio was playing with my stupid nipples turned out to be very difficult, for some reason.

He looked up from my chest and I choked a groan when the bastard let go of a nub, a long trail of spit still connecting his mouth to the now oh so very extremely sensitive area on my chest. His hand also stopped rubbing and teasing and instead softly pressed itself against my hot, burning cheeks.

'So red, Lovi… so very, very _red_, my love…' Antonio said, a content look on his face as he lowered his head and softly bit my neck. Over and over again.

'O-oh god… _god_…' I whined and threw my head back, accidentally ramming it against another bowl – ouch, stupid other bowl! – and tightened my legs around his waist and hips, pulling him closer. I wanted to touch him, I wanted to touch and kiss him so badly, even with this annoying spoon pricking in my back…

I managed to lift my hand, the one that _wasn't_ captured by Antonio's, shook off the long strings of spaghetti (dammit dammit dammit) and carefully ran it through his hair, my whining turning into quiet moans when I felt the Spaniard changed his biting into affectionate _licking_.

'E-enough, enough already, j-just ki – _ah! _– kiss me, dammit, k-kiss me, please…' I stammered, _pleaded_, pulling his hair and squeezing his hand.

Antonio smiled against my skin and complied, warm wetness leaving my neck. I watched his face coming closer to mine with hazy eyes, my chest heaving and my heart beating fanatically, _hysterically_, when he attacked my mouth and forced it open. Our tongues met and he gave a delighted sigh, still caressing my feverish cheek with loving fingers.

It felt good, oh god, it felt so good, so very good and _passionate_ even though I wished my sleeve wasn't getting covered in Bolognese sauce when I touched his face and smeared the shit all over our suits, I still allowed myself to hotly breath out his name when he pulled back a bit.

'A-Antonio… Antonio… I-I'm…'

'I-I know…' he muttered tiredly, his mouth hovering just above mine, '…I'm also… leaning into a fork… for more than five minutes already… oh god, my _arm_…'

'…wait, you're what?' I opened my half-lidded eyes some more and stared up to his frustrated, blushing face. He was glaring at a little something that was lying next to me and clumsily moved his arm over the table, refusing to let go of my hand (although it probably would have made things easier for him), commenting in Spanish on how unbelievably irritating and stupid and _gah_ the fork was, before he finally succeeded in getting rid of the thing, by throwing it off the table.

_Tinkle-tinkle._

'Ha!' Antonio cheered.

Then he rested his head on my sweaty chest with a _thud_ and groaned.

…

And then something _shocking _happened (suddenly, out of the blue, just like that, I never saw it coming, yadayadayada).

The corners of my mouth _tilted_ _upwards_.

_OH MY GOD._

There was actually a _smile_ forming on my face. Slowly, but steady. And a _big_ one too, because I felt my smile getting broader and _noisier_ and _no_, not even trying to muffle my sounds by burying it in Antonio's hair couldn't prevent the amused, choked snorts and laughs that I was suddenly producing from coming out.

I was _laughing_.

_Out loud._

The fuck?

…

Seriously, just… just _what_?

Oh yeah, sure, it sounded a bit weird and maybe even _disturbing_ at first, but after the first couple of strange, light giggles (_giggles_, **WTF**), my laughing grew increasingly louder and more honest and hell, at one point, you could even call the laughing noises I made _shockingly __**natural**_. Teary eyes, flushed face, unstoppable hiccups from laughter and other unhealthy side effects included.

'You… you stupid fuck. With your… _fork…_' I managed to _spit_ out, shaking my head helplessly, '…damn, you're such a stupid… really…'

Antonio, who had already lifted his head from my chest to look at me after the first _titter~ _had escaped from my lips, was watching me with an amazed look in his lively, green eyes and beamed a fond smile at me when he realized I was talking to him.

'You laugh beautifully, my love.'

'S-shut the fork up! _Fuck_ up! I mean _fuck_ up! S-shit! M-make it _stop_, d-dammit!' I giggled uncontrollably, body shaking and squirming.

'Ah, sure Lovi, if that's what you want…' Antonio chuckled, gripping the sides of my torso and pressing a not-so-innocent, open-mouthed kiss on my cheek, '…it's a pity, though… your laugh… it sounds like a warm, hot bath, you know...'

'O-oh, shut it…' I murmured, but still gave the Spaniard an questioning, shy smile, my laughing already beginning to fade away when his lingering kisses found my mouth and became wetter, sloppier. The movements of his exploring hands also grew bolder, since I could feel them sliding behind my back. I trembled a bit when he got a hold on the elastic band of my boxers (that's right, I had changed my briefs for boxers) and curved my back, wanting to be closer to those wandering hands.

'Fork, eh?~' Antonio teasingly purred against my mouth, pulling at my boxer's waistband.

'N-no, spoon…' I gasped out.

Antonio frowned, looking very confused, but then understood what I meant and searched the table right underneath me for the piece of cutlery (and not holding back with the kisses and licks to my face as he did so), eventually finding and removing the annoying spoon, after which he swiftly threw it somewhere behind him.

_Clash_.

'Good?' he asked, leaning down even more on me.

'Y-yeah.' I admitted and pushed myself up to meet those delicious lips halfway.

He hummed cheerfully as he answered my heated kiss. His hand, that was previously stretching the elastic band, suddenly shoved itself into my boxers, between my ass-cheeks, and I let out a strangled groan when I felt something long, cold and sticky being slowly pressed inside of me.

'…a-ah…'

'Even _better_, right…' Antonio whispered, using his other hand to tug my pants down a bit. He gave me a knowing, yet strangely unsure look as he moved the single finger in and out of me easily, sometimes pushing it in as far as he could, sometimes only gently rubbing my walls with it.

'Lovi… y-you like it, don't you… you like it when I do this to you… right? Because… if you don't like it, if you want me to stop… you must tell me… it's all up to _you_, my love… now… shall I continue, or do you want me to sw—'

'Wh-wha… I-I… _yes_, d-dammit, c-c-_continue _with_… _with whatevert-the _hell_ you're busy with, y-you fucking j-jerk… but…'

I hissed quietly when another finger started to poke against my entrance but then abruptly grabbed the front of his jacket, glaring at him as angrily as I could – which wasn't easy with (now _two_) fingers carefully thrusting themselves further into me.

'W-wha-ah… what… what are you using, y-you… ah… hah… you ass…'

'Um…' The Spaniard paused for a moment, blinking. '…my… fingers?'

I stared at him, trying to catch my breath. 'O-oh for _God's_… I… I _know_ you're using your fucking _fingers_, moron…'

He smiled. 'I hope you do. There's no-one around who knows them better than you, my hot, sexy Lovi…'

'B-but what… wha…' My breath hitched in my throat again when the bastard pulled the rest of my pants and boxers down with a swift movement and began undoing his own, '…wh-what are you using as… lu…l-l-l-l-lubri…'

A third finger was added and I shuddered in repressed delight.

'What I'm using as… _ah_…' Antonio moaned softly when he felt me clench around his fingers, '…god, you're so very _tight_, Lovino…'

I flushed, gritted my teeth and jabbed a heel into his back. 'A-answer… answer me, d-dammit… what are you… _hng—_'

Fourth finger.

'Ah, let's try to find out together what I used, shall we…' Antonio said, sharply pushing in all the way, to his knuckles.

'A-_ah_… Oh m-my _god, _Antonio…' I panted breathlessly, too overwhelmed by the painful pleasure ripping through my lower body to stop him from hitting a certain spot several times, again and again and again, keeping up a steady pace, and—

Oh… oh god, oh god. So good. _Too_ good. Fuck. I wasn't going to last long like this, dammit, and he wasn't even touching my dick yet, th-that evil bastard, shit, how _shameful_ of me to… to probably be able to c-come like this…

'It's cold, right… well, now not anymore, but… it was very cold in the beginning, wasn't it, my love… and it'll be cold again very soon, but still… ' Antonio muttered, kicking off his pants and all of a sudden removing his slick, dripping-wet fingers out of me, '…ah, I can't wait to love you a little bit more… to let you feel a little bit _more _of me_, _Lovi…'

My tightly shut eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling above me. Then I leant some more on my elbows and shot an upset glare at the blissfully smiling bastard, who was rubbing himself casually with… with…

'_Icecream, _Antonio? Oh god. You… y-you can't be fucking serious…' I growled lowly.

The Spanish nation nodded excitedly, moving and placing himself in the area between my thighs and peeled-off pants, turning his back on the dangling fabric on my ankles to pull my lower body closer to him.

Oh, _and_ he gave a long, lazy lick to each one of his fingers that had been insi…hmmrr… inside of m... m…

And then my brain officially turned into goo. Hooray!

'Yup, I used vanilla-ice, Lovino!~ Surprised?' Antonio chuckled after cleaning up those long, lovely fingers of his, '…ah, you shouldn't be!~ Come on now, you don't think I'd rather have loosened your cute butt up with icky Bolognese sauce, do you?'

'I…I…' I stammered, blood rushing to my face, somehow unable to think of a next word/letter to say.

'Ah, you know I think vanilla-ice is way tastier than Bolognese sauce, Lovi… especially when it's mixed with _you_.'

He grinned sheepishly at me and spread my restrained legs a bit more, his dirty hands sticking to the skin of my thighs.

That…

That was probably _the_ moment I realized that he _wasn't_ going to untangle my pants and feet. If… if we were going to do this, we were going to do this _like this_.

…

T-the _fuck_?

Did he even know how uncomfortable I was now? Shit, I couldn't… couldn't properly move my legs like this! I couldn't even kick him in the back anymore! Fucking asshole!

I…I should throw a pile of Bolognese sauce into that smug face of him! Yeah, I should! And I would! Just… just wait 'till I got my hands on some sauce, dammit, and then I'd—

_Oh._

My overheated mind instantly stopped shouting all kinds of complot-theory's-to-kill-slash-severely-damage-Antonio-with at me when I felt… w-when I felt said person was _entering_ me with care, stretching me up, making me experience that oh so very _familiar_ feeling of pain mixed with bliss mixed with embarrassment mixed with lust again.

…

A-_ah_… I… I had missed this feeling…

I didn't dare to breath. Didn't dare to move. Didn't even dare to say anything, anything at all, too scared of doing something utterly stupid or downright _lewd _that could ruin the sultry mood, so I only observed the now very concentrated Spaniard with troubled eyes, holding back the urge to just… just _shove him in already_.

Because... Antonio looked very hot like this… So _focused_, _serious_, _careful_ and… and _handsome_, even with that huge blush on his face, even with those furrowed eyebrows, slightly covered with a thin layer of sweat, even when burying his cock in me in this almost torturing slow pace…

I didn't want to miss a second of it.

Antonio gave a throaty moan, pushing himself deeper into me with narrowed eyes and a partly opened mouth, smiling a bit when he noticed I hesitantly lifted my trembling, awaiting hips up. It all went very smoothly from there on and before I was even fully aware of it, he suddenly was completely, _firmly_ seated within me and wrapped his arms beneath me, upwards, clutching my shoulders and pulling me closer and closer, until his face was just above mine.

'L-Lovi… ah, my sweet Lovi… how wonderful you feel…'

He sighed, kissing me tenderly on the lips and snapping his hips forward at the same time.

'Ngh – _a-ah…_' I yelped, voice raspy yet surprisingly quiet, my hands awkwardly feeling and exploring the table to look for something… something to hold on to – and _failing _miserably. Fuck.

'Lovino…' Antonio nuzzled my neck and peppered it with soft kisses, '…ah… I… I want to make love to you nice and slowly, my love… is it… is that okay with you…'

I breathed heavily, due to the fact I was _insistently_ rubbing my very very very very _**very **_neglected erection to Antonio's stomach, and gave the Spanish man pressing on my chest a dazed look.

'Expla… explain "nice and slowly", y-you… ah… you bastard… what do you mean with that…'

Antonio smiled and poked his nose against mine.

'Lovi… I meant just what I said, my love. I want to make love with you _really _nice and slowly… while _kissing_ you, and _holding_ you, and telling you how _beautiful_ and _hot_ you are, and… and while doing a couple of other things that must have slipped my mind…'

'That…ah… h-hah…' I bit my lower lip when I felt another thrust, this one getting _dangerously_ close to my prostate, '…t-that sounds – _ah_ – r-really… really… lame…'

'Hmm… you're lying, aren't you…' Antonio whispered in my ear, setting on a slow, but definite rhythm of grinding, thrusting and bucking.

'O-of course I'm lying, y-you… you –_ngh_ – you… bastara – _ah_…'

'Ahaha… that's… that's okay, my love… I—'

'I love you so much…'

'Ah, I— wh-what?'

Antonio stopped and stared at me, his face getting redder, his expression something in-between overtly happy and overtly _bewildered_.

'I… I fucking _love_ _you_, y-you jerk…' I repeated with a huff, feeling brave enough to say the words relatively easily because of our current extreme intimacy, and shyly wrapped my arms around his neck, '…d-don't act so surprised, d-dammit… y-you _know_ I love you…'

'Y-yes, I know… I'm… I'm just not used to you, saying that line, that _perfect_ line… so… so _honestly_…'

He laughed timidly, gently tugging me closer to kiss me again. His face and breath felt hot and his hands gripping my shoulders gave me a soft, loving squeeze. Then he started moving again.

'Ah, but I love you too, of course… with all of my heart, my lovely, lovely little Lovi…'

'A-_ah, _aah…' I pretty much whimpered, digging my nails into his (still fully clothed, what the hell!) back as he moved in and out of me, simultaneously dragging me back and forwards over the table – and over several kitchen things that were also (still) lying on the table.

'…p-prove it to me, j-jerk…' I heard myself demand as I watched another plate falling over the edge.

_Crash._

Antonio calmly licked and bit my already hurt lower lip, before boring his eyes into mine.

'Prove you what, Lovi?'

'T-that you… that…' I frowned and flushed, but forced myself to keep looking at him, '…t-that you love me… dammit… c-convince me that you… that you do.'

The Spaniard smiled and removed one of his hands from my shoulders to run his fingers down my torso to my throbbing-with-ache-and-need dick, grasping it tightly, but never _too_ tightly.

'…a-_AH!_'I immediately arched my back and accidentally shoved a bottle with pickles from the table.

_Bang_.

Oh god. Oh yes. H-he finally touched me, he finally finally finally finally touched me. S-so good, so good…

'Oh, silly Lovi…' Antonio pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and strengthened his grip around my shoulder to keep me down, '…believe me... by the time I'm finished with you, you'll be _very_ _much_ convinced of my love for you… and your ass… and your sharp, merciless tongue… and your perfect, pinkish cock… and your sweet smile… and just… just everything you _are_, my love…'

'A-Antonio… _ah! _G-god, Antonio…' I stammered his name, over and over again, like a mantra, groaning and panting and _**hating**_ the pants around my ankles _**so fucking much right now**_.

'Allow me to convince you, Lovino… ah, Lovino… Lovino, Lovino…'

He shuddered, closed his eyes and gave me a far from gentle _yank _and I _screamed _and _moaned _and tried to rip his bothersome suit to pieces and… and… and…

…and I just loved it when he called me "Lovino". So much.

**XxX**

…

…w-well.

After he had started to stroke and pull my erection during our passionate lovemaking, the both of us knew it would all come to an end very soon – partly because I _loved loved loved _the feeling of getting a hand-job too much, partly because Antonio _loved loved loved _the noises I made when getting fucked too much.

So… so it wasn't for too long before we came, this time _very_ shortly after each other, which was a rarity, since Antonio and I almost never came together, nor shortly after each other.

I didn't even remember who of us was the first one to yield to that blissful, mind-blowing, uncontrollable rush that flooded through our veins like a fucking _drug_…

…but I _did _know that I couldn't help but sigh in satisfaction, _in motherfucking shameful embarrassing __**satisfaction**_**, **as I felt a warm, wet sensation filling me up to the brim.

…

…k-kind of nice…

Or… or something…

I-I don't know…

**XxX**

B-but anyway…

A few minutes later, after our breathing had become normal again and after Antonio's usual sweet, murmured words about how _good_ the sex had been – 'So very good!~' – and about how _fantastic_ I had felt around him – 'So very fantastic!~' – and about how _beautiful_ I was – 'So very beautiful!~' had been spoken, I found myself in…

…

…well… in a bind.

Because…

Um. Antonio had this… this strange habit. Yeah, okay, the Spanish nation had a _lot_ of strange habits – hell, he _was _a strange habit! – but this particular strange habit of his was… well… it was keeping me from doing anything else, dammit, because he…

He had fallen asleep.

Like a log.

On top of me.

W-while still being i-_inside_ of me.

…

Uncomfortable.

…

…n-not _extremely_ uncomfortable, but still far, _far _away from pleasurable.

…

Well, _shit_.


	26. Whooty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: *wipes tear from eye in a needlessly dramatic fashion* Oh god, you guys are seriously the best reviewers a unsure girl/woman like me could ever wish for. Thank you so much for that – and that certainly goes for you as well, amazing anonymous reviewers!~ And that's all I've got to say. For now. But you know me – there will be more rambling anyway, eventually. _^^

_A/n2: This… is a very silly, weird chapter. I simply have no other words to describe it… it's just very, very silly. And weird. Call it a breather chapter if you like._ _Ahaha… It gets more serious near the end, though. I smell angst. Hmm. _

_A/n3: _XDDDDDD_ OH DEAR GOD, THE CHAPTER-TITLE, WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXVI:

_**Whooty  
**__**(E-Dubb)**_

…

I was fucking _stuck_.

Stuck underneath my moronic lover who was sleeping like a goddamn Spanish, drooling baby, sprawled all over my body.

Great. Just… just _great_, dammit… _ugh._

I uttered a soft, breathy moan and scowled halfheartedly at the stupid stinking ceiling above me, since… well, since I _obviously_ wasn't able to do anything _else_ right now but scowl halfheartedly at the stupid stinking ceiling above me, because… because certain _circumstances_ involving a half-naked, unconscious, _heavy_ Spaniard and a certain _very persistent_ body-part of his _forced _me to do so.

So yeah. That happened to be the thing that I was currently doing. Scowling. Yup. Boring as fuck, yes, but hey, what you gonna do about it.

…

Oh well. At least I wasn't leaking on the table.

…

_Gah_. S-s-shit, why so fucking _disgusting_, Lovino? Damn! You sick pervert! Bet you secretly _like _that flaccid cock up your ass, don't you!

…

…n-no comment.

Ugh… now what to do? I was getting _cold_, dammit! Must have been because all of the icecream stuffed inside/smeared out on my body and shit…

…

And… and probably because Antonio was starting to slide off me in the most awkward way, namely backwards. That's right, the bastard was slowly slipping away, his warm face dragging itself over my chest and stomach, his mouth tracing a wet trail over my shivering skin.

Oh. I blinked as I watched him "fall" backwards. Well, looks like I would be freed from my strange position sooner than I thought.

…

But… but Antonio would most-likely _smack_ _down_ brutally on the floor. And it would hurt him. _Badly_. My floor was pretty damn hard and all. Just ask the plates and shit.

…

_Fuck_.

Alarmed, I shot up a bit, ignored the pain below my waist (or at least tried to), clutched the shoulders of the sleeping Spaniard as tightly as I could and pulled him back up with all the strength I could muster, falling back down on the table and on a random plate in the process, effectively crushing it.

_Crack_.

Ouch. I gritted my teeth and pressed my lips together firmly to avoid a startled yelp from coming out. G-god, _motherfucking son of a bitch_-plate with your lousy, fucked up quality! Where the fuck were you made! Oh, I _know_ where you were made alright, you were made in fucking _hell_ by the devil himself! Who, by the way, is a fuckface! That's right, I'm looking at _you_, France! _Fuck_ you!

…

…moving right along…

The plate underneath me wasn't _completely_ crashed, luckily enough, so there weren't any shards pricking into my back. Well, that was _something_, I guess. Could have been worse.

I heaved a deep, tired sigh and glanced down, to Antonio's face, which was looking really _gross_ and blissfully unaware of all of the spit and dried-up icecream that stuck to his cheeks, chin and lips. Antonio was still lying rather weirdly on top of me and he probably vaguely realized that himself, even in _his_ state of consciousness, since he started to furrow his brows together and made an annoyed little noise.

'…hmnbhmnlnnn…'

'Y-yeah, well… s-serves you right, asshole…' I mumbled softly, blushing a bit when I gave a lick to my thumb and carefully started to rub it over one of his red cheeks. T-there was nothing wrong with doing that, d-dammit, the freaking ceiling had lost my interest anyway...

The light, hesitant touch of my thumb was enough to make a smile appear on his face and his arms, which had been dangling next to my body for a while without doing anything, slowly, very slowly wrapped themselves around me, his hands resting in the small of my back when he was content with the way he held me.

'Lovi…'

I allowed myself to smile a bit and continued cleaning his face, my legs gently pressing down on him.

'…I-I'm here, jerk. R-right under you, dammit…'

Antonio breathed out quietly and snuggled closer to me.

'…ve you, Lo… vi…'

My face darkened in color once again, even though I knew very well that most of the unfinished words he had just muttered were frequently spoken to me. I ran a hand through his sweaty, brownish hair with tender, gentle strokes, the other hand leading his face up to let me press a kiss on those vanilla-flavored lips.

'I-I love you too.'

**XxX**

Now, don't get me wrong.

I-I liked cuddling with Antonio. Yes, I did, no matter how loudly and unconvincingly I'd deny it if he'd ever ask me. I liked it very much. Maybe I even loved it. The feeling of his safe, warm arms around my body, the feeling of being loved _so_ _fucking_ _much_ by just one mere, stupid, Spanish person/nation… hell, I probably couldn't normally function without those soothing feelings of happiness and warmth surrounding me every day anymore.

But.

Cuddling with Antonio while his freaking dick was still trapped within me was just plain _freaky_.

I swallowed. I-it felt really, _really_ strange. It… it just was so _there_. And even though it didn't particular _hurt_ to have him inside of me like this, the feeling didn't come any closer to _enjoyable_ either.

I dug my teeth into my bottom-lip thoughtfully as I twirled some of Antonio's curls around my fingers. Hmm. I… should probably wake him up. Yeah, it would be best – for my poor ass, at least – if I woke him up.

I gave another quick look to the Spaniard.

Hmpf. I-I had to admit, he was now positioned on me a lot more comfortably – and it showed, too. Antonio smiled that silly, sleepy smile of his, the smile I sometimes saw when waking up earlier than him in the morning, or when he was lazy. Or when it was Sunday.

…

What! Sundays are _rest_ days! It totally makes sense in context, dammit!

Anyway…

…A-Antonio looked… well… he actually looked very… um… _adorable_ right now. Oh god. He did. With those reddish cheeks, and that messy, bird-nest hair (it's a word, dammit), and those slightly pouted lips, and the endearing mumbles and sighs he tickled my chest with… Not to mention the way he was holding me, so very affectionately, so very happily…

I-in short, the bastard was fucking _**cute**_.

And really, that shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did, since I always had been aware of his disturbing cuteness when he was asleep. It made the inner faggot/girl/girlish faggot in me want to _squeal_ and hug him and nuzzle his neck and do other manly stuff like _crazy_… but of course, I never did. I didn't roll that way.

…

I _did_ sometimes press quick kisses on his lips whenever he was like this and I had the chance to, though. And most of the time, he'd… he'd actually kiss me back, too.

…

S-sneaky jerk…

W-well, it didn't matter, since I wouldn't be doing anything kissy _now _anyway, dammit. Hell, the Spanish asshole had to get off and _out_ of me as soon as possible first, no matter how much of a pity it would be to wake him up. Yup. Sure thing.

I took a deep breath and reluctantly began to repeatedly _stab_ a finger in his cheek.

'A-Antonio. Wake up, dammit.'

He only yawned in response, smacking his lips.

I frowned and pulled my hand back. Not what I was hoping for.

I decided to go for his shoulder instead and shook him back and forth a bit.

'Antonio. Hey, Antonio.'

He grumbled a bit, but didn't budge. Not even a bit.

Crap. I deepened my frown, let go of his shoulders and huffed. Well, that was just fucking _great_. Ugh. Come on, did I _really_ have to go into my _Classic_-_Epic-Italian_-_violence-mode-*sparkle!*~ _to wake the lazy bastard up? Did I _seriously_ have to fist my hands and slam them on his stupid beautiful head until he'd wake up and whimper like a bitch about it? Did I _absolutely_ have no other options?

No! I had no other choice! Ha! _**Eat pain, Spain!**_

…

…

Okay okay, _fine_, yes, maybe I _did_ have another method to wake Antonio up. But I usually only used that tactic on Feliciano, whenever that idiotic pasta-worshipper got a bit too hyperactive for my liking (which was _every_ _freaking_ _time_ the useless moron showed up out of nowhere). Hm. I had never used it on somebody else before. I mean, it was kind of controversial…

…

…but this position was starting to _hurt_, dammit.

…

Screw it then.

I growled, brought a finger to my mouth and started to suck on it. Soon after, I pulled it out again, checking if there was enough spit on it.

…

…well, it was almost dripping from my finger and it felt really disgusting. Perfect! Just what I needed! Time for my next move!

I swiftly pushed my wet finger into his ear. Bwahaha!

Then I waited.

My patience was rewarded quickly, since Antonio _immediately_ began to jolt his head, twisting his lips, looking quite displeased and irritated as he made sluggish slapping-gestures at my hand.

Aha! He seemed to have woken up – well, at least a bit. Ugh. Oh, it was still better than "not at all", I suppose.

'...getitoutLovi…' Antonio groaned without even looking up, sounding genuinely annoyed.

'Psssh, _hell_ no,' I snorted, determined to keep my finger _exactly_ where it was, '…not before _you_ get something out _first_, you fucking pervert!'

Antonio, still drowsy, hummed a bit. '…hmmm?'

'Don't fucking "hmmm" me, asshole! N-now get it _out!_ Out!' I hissed.

'…ah… youmeanmy… butitfeelsso_niiiiiice_,Lovi…~'

'N-not for me!'

Finally, the Spaniard glanced up at me with a sleepy look on his face, slowly rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

'…notfor… you…?'

'_No_, you egocentric piece of… piece of _man_!' I hollered – pretty lamely too – and tried to get him off me now that he was awake by sitting up. Okay, _attempting_ to sit up. Whatever.

'Ah, okay then, Lovi…' He sighed remorsefully, but took a firm hold of my sides when he saw what I was doing. '…but careful now, don't hurt yourself…'

I wanted to snap and shout random angry things at him (since that was what I did best, after all), but instead only shuddered and moaned a little when I felt he pulled himself – cautiously, _very_ cautiously – out of me and pecked me on the lips.

'Better?' he asked worriedly when he saw my flushed face, giving my cheek a soft pat. '…Lovi?'

I nodded a bit and tried not to think about Antonio's sem… m-mnshnm… that was now slowly oozing out of my a… anhgnmn…

G-goddammit, and this was the best tablecloth I and Feliciano had, f-for fuck's sake…

**XxX**

After Antonio had done what he should have done way earlier (and with "earlier", I meant _before_ falling asleep on top of me, t-that fucking bastard), he helped me back into my pants again (and had way too much perverted fun with that too if you asked me), wrapped his arms tightly around my waist again and nuzzled my stomach, not bothered by my sudden movements at all as I sat up – _ouchouchouch_ – and took an aloof look around me.

But that look was ruthlessly _melted off_ my face as I froze up in pure mortification when I saw the _sea of decay _surrounding me and the gleeful asshole between my legs.

Oh _crap._

T-the whole fucking room… was covered in shards and spaghetti-strings. It was everywhere. On the tiles, on the chairs – hell, there was even some pervy icecream smeared over the freaking curtains _on the other side of the room_. There was also a lot of reddish-brown Bolognese sauce _splashed out all over the floor_, looking very bloody and creepy and nasty and _disgusting, so very, very disgusting, oh my fucking GOD, WHAT THE FUCKING __**HELL HAD HAPPENED HERE DAMMIT!**_

I wanted to sob or yell or at least _scream_ something in utter _**terror**_, but the only things that happened to react on the shit around me were my eyes, widening so quickly and unexpectedly it actually _hurt_, and my hands, clutching Antonio's hair desperately.

'_Ouch_, Lovi!' the Spaniard instantly exclaimed.

'The room! T-the _room_, Antonio!' I shrieked, letting go of his hair, only to grab his face and force him to look around as well, '…look! I-it's… it's… _it's fucking __**messy**_!'

Of course, the idiotic moron firstly wanted to laugh it off with a breezy handwave and took a hold of my wrists to take them off his face, but he paused halfway when he observed our surroundings just a _liiiiittle _bit better.

And his jaw dropped.

'O-oh wow. We sure brought the house down, didn't we?'

'There's a shitload of shit _everywhere_!' I snarled to no-one in special, too upset to catch what Antonio had said as I gaped at the now Bolognese-colored walls and small, _squished_ parts of _Pecorino Romano _ganging up on me on the table with their collective grossness. Oh _god,_ the grossness…

It… it fucking STARED at me, dammit!

'GAH!' I roughly pushed Antonio away from me and hopped off the table, almost falling flat on my face when I slipped over some unidentified, suspicious liquid crap (w-which could be anything, _anything_, I tell you, s-so don't go make up strange stuff now). Luckily enough, the all of a sudden shockingly alert Spanish nation was quick to avoid any facial harm by pulling me flush against him.

'Calm down, Lovino, you're overacting a bi—'

'I'm _not_ _fucking_ overreacting!' I overreacted, and tried to shove him away, '…s-shit! Fuck! Just… just look at the room, the walls, the ceiling – holy shit, even the damn _**ceiling**_! God, how on Earth are we ever going to clean this mess up!'

'Well, that's something we can think about tomorrow, right?' Antonio said, being his easy-going, stupid self again, not letting go of me no matter how much I struggled and ferociously pinched/poked his cheeks, '…for now, let's take it easy, hmm? Just take it easy. Don't ruin this pretty-close-to-perfect night for us, my love, don't mess up the atmosphere…'

I glared at him and blinked, face getting a faint, pinkish color in surprise.

'W-what the hell? P-pretty-close-to… D-don't talk crap like that, you stupid idiot, I'm pretty damn sure even that precious atmosphere of yours has got a funky icecream/Bolognese sauce-mix all over itself now, dammit!'

Antonio exhaled softly against my cheek and ran his hands up and down my back with soothing, careful touches. 'Ah, my silly, silly lovely Lovi… We've got pretty much mess on ourselves as well, you know?'

'D-don't…' I murmured silently, shivering and clutching my hands in the nice fabric of his ripped-open blouse when I felt the warmth of his hands on my cooling back and sides, '…don't… make stupid, perverted jokes now, y-you bastard.'

'Ah, you think I'm joking?' He smiled amusedly as he pulled a string of spaghetti out of nowhere and showed it to me. I glared at it.

'…now where the fuck did you get _that_ from?'

'It was at… at that _one_ cute _place_, Lovi!~' Antonio said cheerfully.

I was getting impatient. '_What_ "cute" place! Y-you better not be talking about my butt, you hear! I-I mean, w-what the hell are you being cryptic about! Shit, don't suddenly _stop_ midway a damn sentence when talking about shit that's confusingly metaphorical, you ass!'

For some fucked-up reason, his facial expression became something between dreamy and greedy. 'Ah, no matter how nice and plump that sweet, sweet butt of yours is, I'm not talking about it – well, not right _now_. And really, Lovi, I don't think that the place I _am_ talking about is even _near_ confusing or metaphorical, for I think you're perfectly able to find out where I got that icky string from… ah, but I'll give you a hint: it's was…'

He dropped the spaghetti-thingy on the floor, cleaned his hand on his jacket and pushed away some of my bangs behind my ear.

'…right _here_.'

'Behind my ear?' My face fell. _Ew_.

The Spaniard grinned stupidly. 'Yes, yes! Where that daisy had to be!'

'_Had _to be? You mean I've lost the daisy?'

'I don't see it, so… yes, you've lost it, I'm afraid.'

'Oh. I… Sorry.' I eased my grip. 'I… didn't want to lose it.'

'Ah, that's alright…' Antonio chuckled a bit and stroke some of his fingers over my cheek, '…there's a lot more where that came from, after all.'

'I…I guess…' I muttered with a stubborn, forced scowl.

'Hey, Lovi? Want to know what activities I have in mind for the rest of the evening?' Antonio looked at me, his smile practically _blinding _me, '…shall I tell you?~ Shall I?~ Shall I?~ Tell you?~'

Naturally, my frown became more menacing.

'You should be put in freaking jail to rot away for being able to say such a dubious sentence like last one so fucking _cutely_, you sick fuck.'

'First of all,' Antonio started happily, as expected ignoring my threatening, yet very worthless words while hugging me, '…you and me are going to take a long, hot bath together – ah, I know how much you love that. We'll put in some wonderful bathing salt and I'll wash your back and hair, and you'll wash mine, and then we'll smooch and kiss and fool around in bath lots and lots, just for fun.'

Fool around in bath, huh? God, his perv was showing again, wasn't it. I snorted haughtily, but didn't protest – no, not in the least. I mean, although I still had to ask him about his unusual selective sexual behavior, I could _certainly_ use a bath now, dammit. And so could he. And… and it's hard to reach your back on your own, s-so I had perfectly good reasons to remain silent, o-okay…

'Then we'll go to bed,' he continued, '…and I think that I'll rub some of that nice massage-oil on you – you know, the one you like so much? That oil from the red bottle?'

'Y-yes. That's… that's good… oil.' I nodded, my blush growing more intense.

Antonio pressed a kiss on my forehead, cuddling and hugging and _loving_ me again, never loosening his… his comfortable hold on me.

'Oh, and after the massage, I'll scoop you up into my arms and kiss your face and tell you – again!~ - how cute and handsome and sweet and wonderful you are, Lovi…'

'O-okay…' I mumbled, as always completely charmed and very flustered by his… his sugarcoated description of our romantic evening together, and slowly wrapped my arms around Antonio as well, timidly rubbing my face in his chest.

'…y-you weird… s-silly… s-sweet basta—'

'And then we should totally go at it again!~' the Spaniard suddenly exclaimed, one of his hands immediately grabbing my behind to stress his words, '…ah, 'cause I'd like to _tap_ that adorable ass of yours again, if you don't mind! Ahahaha!~'

…

…well, I think it's safe to say my nice, friendly, _cuddly_ mood was _immediately_ kicked out of the window and mercilessly ran over by a couple of smoky trucks – oh, and Cuba. Who was _fat_. And also smoked.

…what?

_What?_

Had that… had that fucking bastard _really_ just _slaughtered_ the entire ambiance? Because he wanted to get _that fucking badly _laid again? Seriously? What, so he'd rather spend the rest of the night _fucking_ me than _hugging_ me, than just… just being close to me?

…

Okay, maybe I sounded like a wuss now, maybe I was acting too much like an overly sensitive, whiny little brat now, but come on, that strange, almost _desperate_ sexual desire of Antonio to grope me every time he saw a change to/had enough energy to sex me up lately… it was getting fucking _**annoying**_. I had mentioned it a couple of days ago already – no wait, I had mentioned it _yesterday_ – and it was really starting to bother me.

Just what was going on in that already very fucked-up head of his?

**xXx**

A-again, don't get me wrong.

Just like most Italian – hell, _screw_ "Italian" – _common _men, I liked to have sex. No, I _loved_ to have sex. Sex was nice, hot and a great stress-reliever too, especially for a tense little bastard like myself. During sex, I felt good, I felt handsome, I felt special. Yup. Maybe that was because I only had done it with an oblivious Spanish idiot I was hopelessly in love with up to this point, maybe it was because I was pretty damn _good _at having sex or, hey, maybe it was just because I was a horny bastard. Who knows?

But… no matter how you put it, sex, and… well, _everything_ concerning lovemaking-shit, certainly had a very nice ring to it in my ears.

As for Antonio…

Well… maybe it was just a wild guess, but I think _his_ first sexual experience was far from good. It probably wasn't good at all.

…

It… it probably _wasn't_, no…

…

O-oh wow. Oh damn. I never realized it, but… but _shit_, Antonio most-likely had a fuckton of contradicting feelings when it came to sex.

I mean, I only had sex out of t-this stinky, mutual f-feeling of… of _love_ (so far), nothing more, nothing less. But Antonio… he must have had sex for a _lot_ of reasons: he used to have sex with France because he was _sexually_ _frustrated_. He used to screw around with Prussia because they'd _get bored_ otherwise. He did it with the Netherlands because he wanted to _control_ him. He made fake-love with Belgium because she _manipulated _him into doing it. Oh, _and_ he had some lousy _pity_-_fucks_ with Austria.

Just a couple examples to show how very _disturbed_ Antonio's feelings had to be concerning something as simple and easy as sex.

…

…and to think, I hadn't even visited England, Russia and Hungary yet. _God_.

…

Now, I felt confident enough to believe that Antonio loved me and had sex… I-I mean, made love with me because… because of that same reason.

But…

I was beginning to realize he also had _another_ reason to go to bed with me. A very lonely, sad and maybe even _depressing_ reason. A reason you… you wouldn't expect from a sunny nation like himself.

And now… now probably was the best time for me to confront him with that reason, dammit…

**XxX**

'Lovi?'

Antonio, who had noticed I had become quieter, stared at my stern face, a slightly worried and at the same time slightly drowsy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hands still rested on my behind, but he wasn't – god, can't believe I'm saying this – _doing_ anything with it anymore.

Well, good. That gave me the opportunity to clear my throat and back off a bit, just enough so I could look him in the eye.

'Lovino?' Antonio asked again, raising a brow as he tried to pull me back, '…what's wrong? Did I say anything bad? Why are you looking at me like that?'

'Can I – look, cut it out and listen to me for a bit, okay?' I insisted, refusing his hug by gently pushing him away from me, '…Antonio, can I… can I ask you something?'

It could have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw something like _panic_ flashing over his rapidly paling face. Then he swallowed, doing his best to sound normal as he gave me another unsure smile.

'A-ah, well, you can ask me anything you want, Lovino! But… but it's nothing like… um… I mean, you're not going to… ah, I don't think you are, b-but I'm getting this awful feeling when I look at your expression now, as if you're going to… y-you're going to…'

'Shit, I _knew _it, I fucking _knew _it.'

I hissed, plunged forward, pressed my face into his chest again and held him tightly, as tightly as I could, while I listened to a very unsteady heartbeat right underneath the tanned skin.

'K-knew what?' Antonio stammered, getting more and more confused, but still allowing me, _gladly_ allowing me to cling myself to him like this, '…Lovi, w-what are you talking about? What's going on?'

N-now, I didn't _want_ to and I definitely didn't _plan_ to do it either, but… but I must have been crying like the pussy that I am when I looked up at him and leaned my chin onto his chest, since… since my sight was very hazy and since something was dripping off my face, d-dammit…

'Lovi, Lovi…' Antonio hesitantly grabbed both sides of my face, '…don't cry, y-you shouldn't cry when I'm not sure about the reason of your tears, y-you—'

'…you're scared, aren't you?' I heard myself whisper quietly.

Antonio didn't answer me right away.

'…s-scared, Lovino?' he finally said, laughing nervously and silently, stroking my face.

'T-_that's _why you're so very persisted on sleeping with me lately…' I mumbled, '…y-you're scared… scared to _lose_ me if you don't, right?'

He didn't say anything at all now. But he kept caressing my damp cheeks.

K-kind-hearted _bastard_. I gave him a weak head-butt.

'S-stupid ass... I-I thought I had made myself clear from the beginning, dammit! You don't have to _prove_ yourself to me just because you're sick and experiencing an economic crisis! You don't have to fucking _fuck me _in order to ensure yourself I'm not going to dump you! F-fucking _hell_, Antonio! You mean so much _more _to me than just a good fuck! G-give me some damn _credit_, y-you wuss!'

'L-Lov…'

'Shut up!' I interrupted him with a hoarse voice and angry glare, 'I _love_ you, Antonio! N-not because of the sex, but because of _you, _because of your kindness, your presence, your warmth, t-the way you look and smile at me in that very special way, the way you hold me at night, the way you talk to me… that's what's called motherfucking _**love**_, you _**idiot**_! Get it through your thick skull already, dammit!'

Antonio's body began to tremble and I suddenly heard a restrained sob, right before he wrapped his arms around me and rested his shaking head in the crook of my neck.

'…I-I'm so sorry, Lovino... O-of _course_ I know you really love me, it's just… you were going to other countries all of a sudden, and… and I became jealous, and scared, and those other countries _are _healthy, and… and have so much more to offer you… I can only offer you _myself_.'

'W-well, maybe... maybe that's _more_ than all I need.' I huffed, blinking my eyes really quickly in order to improve my sight at least a little bit while the Spaniard nuzzled my neck.

'Y-you're so sweet, Lovi…'

'I'm not sweet at all, I'm just telling you the fucking _truth_.' I grumbled, '…maybe you should try it too.'

'Hmm... I should, shouldn't I?'

'Yeah.'

Antonio chuckled feebly and placed his hands on my face again, slowly rubbing the tears away and clearing my view on his blushing face.

'Ah… I guess this means I'm still not completely used to this strange feeling of love and being loved, even though I've been your lover for quite some time now, ahahaha…'

'Well…' I gulped and pulled him closer, '…well, you better start getting used to it already, dammit, 'cause I'm not planning to let you go any day soon.'

'Neither am I, Lovino.'

Antonio caught my lips, gave me a soft kiss and smiled, his own emerald eyes looking a bit puffy and red, but still just as beautiful as ever, just like...

J-just like he the beautiful nation he really _is._

**XxX**

The following couple of minutes, I spend hugging and holding Antonio, sometimes accepting a loving kiss, sometimes giving him an equally loving kiss back in return, the devastated room around us not important to me nor bothering me at all anymore.

I smiled shyly as Antonio pulled back from another kiss and beamed a big, happy smile at me that could probably eat the whole fucking _room_ if it wanted to.

'Just to let you know…' he breathed gently in my ear, '…I might have been (_partly_) using sex in order to keep you around and ease my troubled mind, but… but that never was the _sole_ reason, my love. I also did it because of love. Ever since I started dating you, I've _always _been doing it out of love, Lovino… _naturally _I've been doing it out of love...'

'Smooth-talking me again, aren't you…' I mumbled, feeling lightheaded when the Spanish nation hugged me and sucked the skin just beneath my ear simultaneously, '…f-fuck, don't tell me – _ah_ – your insecurity-problem is striking up again…'

Antonio smiled into my neck reassuring.

'Oh no, not at all. Right now, I just want to kiss you.'

I rolled my eyes, but for some reason just _couldn't_ get that damn _smile_ from _hell_ off my face.

'…w-well, what's new, dammit.'

'Ah, also, I'd like it if you'd kiss me back.' Antonio looked at me hopefully.

'F-fine with me…' I nodded and closed my eyes, leaning towards him a bit with fiery red cheeks and slightly pursed/pouted lips, waiting for a kiss. Suddenly, I could feel his lips brushing mine softly and my heart jumped in my chest in delight.

I loved his "careful" kisses. Oh god, I love those gentle, sweet kisses so very much. So nice, so romantic, so—

_Creak._

'Ve… ah-HA!~ I _knew _you guys had to be around here somewhere!~'

…

…w-what the…

My eyes snapped open, just like Antonio's, whose eyes looked just as shocked as mine.

There was just _one_ person on the whole wide world who constantly uttered the damn "ve~" word and abused innocent little squigglies like that.

Yup: Feliciano. Apparently, he had come home. Back from Germany, all fresh and bubbly and annoying, ready to deliver a finishing blow to the oh so very _carefully_ restored ambiance.

…oh well, at least things couldn't get much worse than this.

'Dr. Delgado!~ Big brother Toni is here!~ Ve… he's smooching with my big brother and he isn't wearing any pants! Ooooh, I wonder whyyyyy!~'

…

OH, GIMME A FUCKING **BREAK!**


	27. Humps II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Ah, the wonderful wonders of Fanfictiondotnet!~ I'm sure I haven't been the only author on this wicked site that has experienced edit/upload-problems the past couple of days… For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, let me explain: when I was trying to edit a chapter last week, there was this nice message from Fanfictiondotnet popping up, saying that there was an error. Type 2. And shit. So, no edits/upload-changes for Sunny!~ _*growls* _Luckily enough, I found a way to upload my next chapter (thank you, __**Slashguy**__ and __**Kitsune**__!). So, well, I hope all of you can see the chapter.  
__God. I hate it whenever Fanfictiondotnet gets annoying. It gets on my nerves, dammit! I hope the error is fixed soon…_

_A/n2: And now for something completely random!~ Did you know I __**love**__ watching the Eurovision Songfestival? I really, really do! I've always loved watching it and I enjoyed making snarky comments on countries that had really, __**really**__ silly acts, but ever since I've discovered the wonderful world of Hetalia, watching the Eurovision Songfestival has only become more fun!~ I mean, Lithuania's sending was freaking GOLD last year. Just look it up if you wonder what I'm talking about.  
__The Netherlands actually have a fairly good act this year. Gasp! Could we win? Hell no. _XDDD _But still, yeah, it would be nice if we did. _^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXVII:

_**Hump de Bump  
**__**(Red Hot Chili Peppers)**_

You..

You should have seen the _look_ on Delgado's face when he walked in right after Feliciano and saw me and Antonio, panting and standing together _really_ closely with bright-red faces in the middle of the dining room – that, by the way, had a lot in common with an _exploded fucking_ _crime_ _scene_.

…

God. The startled Spanish doctor looked like he was slowly _dying_ inside, face and mustache metaphorically falling down on the floor. His little snake-eyes quickly darted over me, over his beloved Spanish country and over the mess surrounding the two of us and he made an angry hissing noise in the back of his throat.

'Just… just what is the meaning of all of this, if I may ask you?'

He made a quick arm-movement that _could_ or _could not_ have been intended to look _that_ ridiculously… _niminy-piminy_. Or _spastic_. Or _fuck you._

Then a throbbing, thick vein appeared somewhere around his temple.

…

I guess the old coot was kind of mad.

Strangely enough, I wasn't completely _sure_ to _whom_ he was snapping at: me or Antonio (alright, probably at me, since that evil bastard hated my guts and wanted to see me locked away in a deep dark dungeon, preferably in France/Russia/Hungary, but _still_, you never know for sure), so I turned to the Spaniard in front of me, giving him a confused glance as I (effortlessly) tried to tidy myself up a bit.

'Y-_you_ say something, d-dammit… he's _your_ freaking (witch) doctor!'

But Antonio, apparently still _very_ _much_ impressed by my heroic speech of earlier, was too busy staring lovingly at me with big, sparkling eyes, as if he had fallen in love with me all over again, seeing nor hearing the doctor's dangerous growls of fury. His face glowed and flushed excitedly when our glances met, and he breathed out a blissful sigh, bumping our foreheads and noses together.

'Ah, you are so lovely… and so _sweet_… ah, I could hold you like this all day, my love…~'

…n-now…

…e-even though it really, _really_ wouldn't help me, not at all, not even in the slightest little bits… I still fucking _blushed _when heard his words and saw that _look_ on his face, that… that _so very infatuated _look, that made my heart swell and my _ears _(that's right! Ears!) _burn_.

I gulped and quickly glanced at Dr. Delgado, who was still fuming as angrily as an old, mustached piece of elderly possibly could. Not good. Not good at all, dammit!

'A-Antonio…' I hissed urgently, poking his chest, '…you f-fucking bastard, n-now's not the time to…'

'There's spaghetti on the walls, Lovi! Vee!~' Feliciano _bulldozer-ed _right through my sentence, giggling cheerfully to nobody in particular.

Then he burst into tears.

…

Naturally, I stopped trying to push Antonio away gave my younger brother a very, _very_ confused (and maybe also _slightly_ freaked-out) look.

'W-what the _fuck_ are you all of a sudden crying for, you moron!'

'There's spaghetti on the walls, Lovi! Vee!~' Feliciano sobbed.

I just stared at him.

'Figures.'

Seconds later,an almost hysterical Feliciano dramatically _threw_ himself – in _Hollywood-meets-Venice-slow-motion-style_ – into my arms, effectively shoving Antonio away, who crashed into the table behind us quite harshly – without ever losing that love-struck smile of his.

'Ouch…~'

And then he kind of fainted.

…

And then Dr. Delgado's patience had officially reached (and _killed_) its limit.

…

_Fuck._

**xXx**

So, just to summarize it all…

In just a few moments time, my darling little brother _slash _devilish offspring had not only successfully _destroyed_ the romantic mood, _oh no, no no, _Feliciano had done so much more than that.

Like… like, oh, say, _laughing/bawling_ at the walls, knocking my Spanish lover out cold and infuriating said lover's personal doctor, who, for some reason, decided that it was all _my_ fault and started to _**yell**_ at me in Spanish, mustache, eyebrows and beard twitching as he shook his clenched old-man-fists at me, before picking Antonio up from the floor and dragging him out of the room with him, still glaring at me when he vengefully_** slammed **_the door and purposely made a lamp fall off the wall that way, increasing the mass of mess.

…

N-now…

…one would think I'd probably want to kill my brother with my own, bare, _trembling, __**oh so very eager**_ hands because of all of this, right? _Right away_, right?

Well, _no_. I wasn't like that. Not at all.

'Wow, big brother…' Feliciano said, after watching Dr. Delgado strut away, and gave me a dismissive look, '…tssk tssk, Lovi! What have you done _now_, vee!~'

…

…

Maybe I could choke him with my _feet_.

**xXx**

Luckily enough, I felt _much_ _better_ after smacking the little fucker on the head with a wooden spoon a couple of times and smashing several plates of cold spaghetti with cold Bolognese sauce and cold (and smelly!) _Pecorino Romano _into his teary face, making absolutely _sure _it would get into his nose and hair.

Ha! That'd teach the asshole!

...

Well, it didn't actually teach him anything, since he already started to cry about the icky spaghetti dangling on the tip of his nose after only three minutes of physical pain, which caused me stop and have mercy on the wuss. Hell, I even _apologized_ to him as I took him to our kitchen, grabbed a wet towel and began to wash the orange sauce off his phizog.

…

…wh-what can I say, dammit: no matter what the bastard might do or cause in the future, he… he'd _always _be my stupid little brother.

…

Besides, I needed to be nice to him in order to convince him to help me cleaning up the dining room.

**xXx**

Ten minutes later, Feliciano (ha, _success_!) and I were busy cleaning up the dining room.

Or at least _attempting _to.

While I was doing my very best to carefully rub some gross smudges out of the curtains, tablecloth and other things that shouldn't be having smudges all over, Feliciano was dancing around with a broomstick, a mop and a bucket – naturally doing a _way_ _better_ job at cleaning the room and furniture than I could ever do, since he was the lovely Cleaning-Princess from Fagtalia and since I absolutely _sucked_ at cleaning (just ask Antonio, he should know) and sometimes even made the mess _worse _than it originally was.

What! I'm fucking _serious_, dammit!

Like… like now. Yup, right now, I was involuntarily, yet still very _actively_, _helping _an icecream-smudge on a placemat with expanding itself by accidentally smearing the damp spot over and over again, never giving up hope, until _the whole fucking placemat _was covered with vanilla-shit.

…

Hm. For some strange, disturbing reason, the scary icecream-stain-revolution going on on the placemat reminded me of Soviet-Russia.

…

And in said country, icecream ate _you_.

…

Ugh.

Fucking _pathetic_. _That's_ what I was, dammit. Couldn't even clean a stupid _placemat_, what the hell was up with _that_!

I growled, swung away the ruined… mat-thing, and glared at the other large, linen mat-things, lying in front of me on the table. Oh my god. This was going to be a long night, wasn't it? And not even the _good_ kind of long night. Shit.

'Vee… you're really kind of amazing, you know?' I heard Feliciano say, somewhere behind me, his high-pitched voice seemingly coming from some sort of height.

'Took you long enough to notice, though.' I rolled my eyes and didn't bother looking over my shoulder at him.

'No, I'm dead serious, Lovino!' Feliciano loudly stressed and huffed, '…I mean, _wow_, you have to be some sort of magical… _magician_ to get cheese on the ceiling! How am I ever going to get that stuff off? Veee… I wonder… Oh, wait, maybe my Luddy knows how to—'

'Hey, speaking of your disgusting "Luddy",' I suddenly snarled, smacking down the placemats (I'd fucking _burn_ them later) and turning around to look at my brother – who was standing on a wobbly, old cabinet with something that looked a lot like a toilet brush, '…why the _fuck _didn't you stay with him tonight?'

'…hmmmmmnn…' Feliciano gave me a hesitant look, before descending swiftly from the cabinet – that _immediately_ collapsed, the minute he got off.

'…vee… ah, I'd tell you, I'd gladly tell you, big brother, but… I'm afraid I can't tell you the reason yet!'

'You _do _realize you've just destroyed Grandpa Rome's most valuable cabinet, right?' I bluntly remarked, staring at the wooden remains. '…ooooh, your ass is _sooooo_ gonna be _toast _when you die and go to heaven!'

Feliciano cocked his head. 'Veee… that's a weird thing to say…'

'What? Oh, come on, you know what I mean, Feliciano! Dammit!'

My younger brother just smiled stupidly and shrugged, before abruptly leaping forwards to me and grabbing my wrists in one quick movement, studying my hands with a uncharacteristic frown in his forehead, muttering some disappointed hm's and hum's and vee~'s.

'Damn, you're acting even more mentally confused than usual. Have you been smoking pot or something?' I said, narrowing my eyes and prying his grubby hands off my wrists.

'Vee… hey hey, Lovi – ouch, don't pinch my hands!' Feliciano yelped, pulling his "injured" hand closer to his chest with _fucking teary eyes_, '…I… I only wanted to ask you something!'

I frowned. 'Ask me _what_, dammit!'

Feliciano's cheeks reddened a bit and his – for once fully _opened_ – brown eyes gave me a hopeful glance.

'I wanted to ask you if… if big brother Toni has asked you yet…'

This time, I blinked my eyes. 'What's with Antonio? What is he supposed to ask me?'

'Veee, it's just that…' he paused for a few seconds, '…hmmm, well, I can't ask you _my_ question if big brother Toni hasn't asked you _his_ question yet.'

'Feliciano, what the hell are you talking about?' I felt I was getting more and more confused, gaping at my brother bewilderedly, '…is it something important?'

'Yeah…' He absentmindedly gazed to an invisible point somewhere in the distance, his forefinger and thumb fumbling with the fingers of his other hand.

'Then _tell me_!' I insisted. Damn, I was slowly but very _very_ surely getting really _pissed_ at him!

Feliciano saw I was getting angrier, but still shook his head, giving me a sad, yet _peppy_ smile. 'Veee… no no, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you!~ It's a secret!~ Big brother Toni told me not to tell you, so I won't tell you!'

'…what—'

'But it's too bad, you know?~' he quickly continued, his smile growing broader, '…veee… it'd had been fun if I could tell you that I want and expect you to be my best… _something-something_ at my… _something-something_, and that I want to be _your _best… _something-something_ at _your_… _something-something_, but, well, since big brother Toni hasn't asked you _something_ yet, I guess I'd better shut up about the _something-something_ and the _something-something_, before I blurt _something_ out!~'

…

Again, I just stared at him, before uttering a deep, desperate, _pained_ sigh, rubbing the side of my head.

'…yeah, _fine_, Feliciano. Whatever you say.'

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Feliciano "Veneciano" Vargas, aka North Italy. Irritating Italian Individual and Merciless Murderer of your curiosity since (well, let's say) March, 1861.

…

I think I could use a painkiller. No, I think I could use a truckload of painkillers.

'But anyway!~' Feliciano exclaimed, clapping and flapping his hands in excitement as he jumped on another subject, '…so! How's your topping-plan working out for you?~ Fucked big brother Toni yet?~'

…

Forget painkillers. Just _kill_ me.

'W-what the f… n-not so damn _loud_, y-you bastard!' I hissed, blushing and cringing a bit while I lowered myself to the floor and picked up some plate-shards.

Feliciano followed my example and fell on his knees as well – but instead of collecting the shards, he started to poke me in the (burning-hot) face. Which was fucking annoying.

_Poke, poke._

'Lovi, hey, hey, Lovi!'

_Poke, poke, poke. _

'Come on, Lovi, you can tell me! How is it going? Hm? Hm?'

_Pokepokepokepokepo—_

OH_, ENOUGH ALREADY!_

'Shut your fucking _trap_ already!' I snapped at my younger brother, slapping his stupid finger away and punching him in the shoulder right after, '…there's nothing to fucking tell you, alright? All I can tell you is that I'm still… busy collecting information from other countries, okay!'

Feliciano's face fell – wasn't completely sure why, could be because of my answer or because of my punch. I hoped it was because of my punch.

'Veee, so, you're still bottom, aren't you?'

I grumbled, embarrassed. 'I-I'm working on it!'

'Nah, I think big brother _Toni_ is ~**working**~on it, Lovi.'

'F-fuck you.'

'Veee. You're _squatting_ pretty weirdly, big brother. Why are you squatting so weirdly? Because big brother Toni screwed you again?'

'No, I'm actually squatting like this because I went and broke your precious wineglass.'

BOOYAH!

Feliciano gasped, his face now paling. 'Veee! _**No**_!'

I almost started to cackle when I saw his shocked expression and decided to rub it in a little bit more, since he was a motherfucking motherfucker_ –_ oh, and since I was in a foul, _foul _mood. Oh so very _foul_. And _bitter._ And maybe even a bit _disgruntled._ All thanks to him, dammit!

'That's right!' I announced, standing up from the floor to look really big and intimidating in my younger brother's eyes even though my legs wobbled a bit because of some suspicious pains in the lower back, '…remember that glass? The one with the golden… shitty things? I totally broke it! Yeah! With my ass!'

'But _why_! Veee… why would you _do _such a thing, Lovi!' Feliciano stammered, tears already dripping off his chin, '…t-that glass was a present from Luddy! You didn't even give me the chance to pass it on to Kiku!'

I stopped my wrathful cackling. '…wait, you wanted to give it to Japan? For _real_?'

He easily wiped away his tears (fucking crocodile-tears, I should have known) and sniffed. 'Y-yes! You see, Luddy's presents are always boring and full of crap, but Kiku seems to like them. Must be because he loves souvenirs and such. That's why I give him Luddy's stuff for his Birthday every single year. And guess what, he really likes it!~ Isn't that nice? Everybody happy!~'

'You're freakishly shrewd, aren't you.' I said.

He smiled. 'Veee… oh, at least I'm not _screwed_. Like you just have been. Haha!~'

WHAT.

I gritted my teeth and took a few steps towards him, rolling up my sleeves. 'Ooooh, _now_ you've fucking gone and done it, you dirty pasta-bastard…'

'L-Lovi, no!' Feliciano whined, holding up his hands as he hastily backed off, '…I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't hurt me, I'm frail! Look, I'm limping a bit! See? S-see? It's because I bumped my toe on a flower just yesterday! A really _big_ one! And… and… ummm… you're Italian, right? Right! W-what a coincidence, my grandparents also were Italian! Like me! Vee! So w-we shouldn't fight, big brother! We're like family! And... and w-what would Grandpa Rome say if he saw us? Or what would big brother Toni say?'

'What the… DON'T USE YOUR FUCKING SUCKY ITALIAN WAR-TACTICS ON _ME_, YOU DOPE!' I yelled, lashing out at him, hitting a chair instead since my wimpy (but still extremely _fast_) brother dodged my fist, which meant I was pretty much _crying out in world-destructing __**pain**_ shortly after.

'ACK! FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!'

'Vee! Ha! Serves you right! Serves you _ri~ight_!' Feliciano made a triumphant V(ee)-sign, after which he quickly hid himself "safely" underneath the curtains.

…

Oh yes, _that'd_ protect him from my wrath.

_Not_.

I snickered, in spite of the pain still running through my (probably _broken, oh my god the pain_) hand, and slowly, _verrrrrrry slowly_ approached the quivering pile of curtains. Then I lifted one of my feet, hovering it over the curtains.

Ha! Haha! God, was I diabolical or _what!_

'Any last words before I _stomp_ you to oblivion, Feliciano?' I grinned, pushing the pile a bit with my foot.

And then an old, wrinkled hand landed on my shoulders _out of fucking __**nowhere**_, while an ancient breath was panted into my ear.

'Mister South Italy…'

…

I screamed.

**xXx**

Dr. Delgado sighed deeply and gave me a bored look as I stared up at him from underneath the curtains.

…

W-what! It was a _reflex_, dammit, a reflex!

'Pssst! Good _work_, Lovi!' Feliciano whispered, shaking my shoulders, '…now, don't be scared, big brother, the curtains will definitely protect us from that evil Spanish doctor! It's imported from England, you know!'

'Shut the _fuck_ up, Feliciano!' I hissed, face bright-red as I shook his hand off my body and scrambled back up, using the last bits of my worthless dignity to be able to look Dr. Delgado _straight_ in the eyes.

'…you wanted to talk to me?'

The old doctor raised one of his eyebrows. 'Quite.'

He gave an annoyed look to my brother – who hastily covered himself with curtains again – before focusing his attention back on me, beckoning me to follow him with a nod of his head.

Then he immediately walked away, just like that, so I was kind of forced to follow him out of the room. So I did.

…

Oh god. I wonder what the bastard needed to tell me.

Outside of the dining room. With no eyewitnesses.

…

Damn. I should have taken the fucking curtains with me.

**XxX**

The minute the doctor and I arrived in one of the many small hallways of my and Feliciano's House, he closed the door behind him and shook his head, sighing once again, his back turned towards me.

'I… _honestly_ wonder sometimes who is the bigger fool of the two of you Italies, mister South Italy.'

'_He_ is!' I blurted out. And _no_, that didn't sound childish at all so _shut_ _up_!

'Well, in that case, mister South Italy, I don't think we share the same opinion.' He finally decided to look at me, his piercing grey eyes still frighteningly dull and scornful, '…after all, it's not very clever to let yourself get caught in _that_ compromising position, is it?'

I blushed, put my hands in my pockets and avoided his eyes with a cough.

'H-how was I supposed to know you and my brother would suddenly barge in, d-dammit…'

'Well, I don't know. But I don't care either, since it hasn't got anything to do with mister Spain.'

_Spain_. Hearing Antonio's country's name made me prick up my ears instantly and I looked up, away from the floor. Damn, all of this silliness had almost made me forget about him!

'Antonio… h-how's he doing?'

'About time you mentioned him.' Delgado adjusted the glasses on his nose with a snort. 'You sure took your time, though.'

I repressed the need to kick the Spanish asshole between his legs and nodded weakly, unable to deny his words.

'But if you must know… Mister Spain is doing fine.' he said. 'He has wounded himself quite a bit when mister North Italy _launched_ himself towards you and roughly pushed him against the tabletop – rough enough to knock him out – but I'm glad I can tell you that he almost immediately woke up after I had put him in bed.'

'Oh. O-okay.' I exhaled, relieved to hear Antonio was okay.

Dr. Delgado observed me for a minute, pursing and relaxing his lips in turns, before groaning softly and continuing his story.

'Mister Spain asked for you. Right after he opened his eyes again, he asked for you.'

My face flushed. 'He… he did?'

'He did.' The doctor nodded again and shuddered. 'And when he noticed you weren't around, he started to blabber to me about how great and wonderful you are.'

'…o-oh.'

'He told me the… _table-thing_ was _his_ fault, that you hadn't done anything wrong. He also ordered me to go easy on you and to tell you the news that I came to tell him.'

'You have news?' I asked him.

'Well, _yes_. _Important_ new, even. Why _else_ would I show up at 8.00 PM at your door, mister South Italy?' He rolled his eyes sarcastically. 'Please. You and I both know your House isn't exactly the most _wonderful_ place I'd want to go to, with all respect.'

I frowned, but didn't say anything._ Respect_, eh? Sure. Hell, if he had _ever_ talked to me with respect, I heavily wondered what his kind of "respect" _was_. Mean old bastard.

'But anyway. The news I came to tell mister Spain, was supposed to be for minster Spain's ears only. Sadly enough, I should have known that mister Spain wanted me to tell you the news as well…'

Dr. Delgado grumbled, but carried on nevertheless.

'His Majesty, the King of Spain, has told me to inform mister Spain of the fantastic fact that the economy of the country is recovering itself quite steadily again. The European experts believe that Spain is "on his way" to become a "rather" healthy economy – especially when comparing him to countries like Portugal and Ireland. Also, he can come back to his House.'

'Come back to his House?' I widened my eyes. 'Wait a minute… So… s-so they _didn't_ sell his House?'

'No – it was too expensive to sell. The majestic house is pretty much like a _castle_, after all. However, some people from the Spanish government _did_ sell a couple of paintings and some other belongings of mister Spain. But nothing personal.' Delgado explained.

'That's… that's great news!' I said, trying to ignore how delighted my voice sounded.

'It is.' He cleared his throat. 'And mister Spain was very glad to hear that as well, so he's planning to go back to his country as soon as possible – which can be as early as tomorrow, since his fever has weakened.'

'Yes, I guess it's—'

'And it's apparently thanks to _you _that this has happened, mister South Italy. So… _thank_ _you_.'

W-what?

I stared dumbfounded at the older man in front of me, who suddenly took my hand and shook it – begrudgingly, yet firmly.

'Mister South Italy. Let me make myself clear. I don't like you. I don't like you at all. In fact, I've never liked you. In my eyes, you were nothing more than an annoying little tyke, sucking on all of mister Spain's attention and love as frequently and fanatically as you could. I always thought you were more like a burden to my country than you were a gain.'

I forced a feeble, unsure smile. 'You're making your point _disturbingly _clear, doctor Delgado.'

'Don't interrupt me.' He shot a dangerous glare at me and purposely clutched my hand tighter. Way tighter.

I winced. 'Ouch! Okay, I'm sorry for interrupting you! _Shit_, stop squeezing me, dammit!'

'As I was saying…' the doctor calmly said, '…I was wrong. You, mister South Italy, have proven me to be wrong about you and your intentions concerning mister Spain. You took good care of him, the last couple of weeks. You were there for him, you worried about him, you made sure he was feeling safe and comfortable, and you showed me that even disgusting homosexuals like _yourself _can be so much _more _than just disgusting homosexuals.'

I snorted. 'Thanks, I think. Very nice of you. Could you please let go of my hand now?'

I tried to pull my hand out of his grasp, but nope, even an old coot like Dr. Delgado was apparently strong enough to maintain his hold on me.

'Wait, I'm almost finished.' He took a deep breath. '…mister South Italy, what I'm really trying to tell you… if it wasn't for you, mister Spain, _my country_, could have been in a world of hurt. He would probably have recovered eventually, but still, you made his sickness a _pleasant_ one to endure – for him. And that's why I'd like to thank you, mister South Italy.'

His grip became less firm and his small, watery eyes met mine again.

Huh. It was weird. I felt I got less nervous, for some reason. For the first time in years, I actually _relaxed _my muscles while listening to Dr. Delgado. It was a nice development, I suppose.

'Thank you, mister South Italy. Thank you very much.' Dr. Delgado said again, smiling a bit.

I didn't know how to smile at a guy that I had always – and still – hated with a passion, so I didn't smile back when I responded.

'…you're welcome.'

But I _did_ stop trying to free my hand.

…

It was a begin, I guess.

**xXx**

Shortly after that, Dr. Delgado left.

He just let go of me, mumbled something about washing his hands and shuffled out of my House, together with his strange metallic briefcase.

I frowned, scratching the back of my head as I watched the old man step into his small car – I couldn't see what kind of car it was – and drive away. I didn't know why, but it was during times like _these _that I wondered if he _really_ hated me as much as he said he did. I mean, this wasn't the first time he had said something quasi-nice to me. He... well, he kind of reminded me of some kind of grandpa you _really _didn't want to know or visit, _never ever_, and yet… and yet you still _did_, since it _was_ your grandpa, after all.

…

Man, I should go see a shrink.

'Lovi?'

Suddenly, I felt two arms wrapping themselves around my shoulders and a head, placing itself on top of those shoulders, gently rubbing my abruptly reddening cheeks with his own, colder ones.

O-oh.

After smiling a bit like the stupid moron that I was – and checking the still closed door of the dining room 'cause I'd rip Feliciano's fucking head off its rump if he had the guts to peek on us – I leaned back ever so slightly, letting the Spaniard behind me embrace me even better.

'S-so… Delgado told me you're getting better.'

'Ah… he did? That's nice of him...' Antonio sighed softly and pulled me closer, happy to feel I complied.

I gulped. 'And… and he told me you can return to your House.'

'Hmm…'

'Are you going to do that?'

'Well, it depends…' Antonio mumbled, smiling against my cheek, '…if you're coming with me or not, my lovely Lovi…'

I frowned. 'S-stupid ass. I… I think you know very well that I'm coming with you, n-no matter to w-what fucking _hellhole_ you're going…'

'I know.' Antonio gave me a loving hug. 'But like I told you before, my love: it's nice to hear you say sweet things to me like that… ah, you're so _good_ at that, so very _good_…'

'Y-yeah, whatever…' I stared at his arms, one of them somewhat pressed against my chin, and I pressed a quick kiss to the sleeved arm.

'Come to bed, Lovino. I…' Antonio yawned. '…I'm sleepy… and you're probably sleepy as well, so… well, join me in bed, and… ah, please fall asleep in my arms tonight, Lovi…'

'Just.. just let me say goodnight to Feliciano first, d-dammit…' I stammered, resisting the strange urge to twirl myself around and kiss the romantic moron until the both of us saw stars and shit, '…I'll… I'll be upstairs in a minute.'

'You promise?'

'Y-yeah. I promise.'

'Ah, okay…'

He let go of me, his affectionate arms leaving my torso way too quickly, his mouth pressing against the back of my head one last time before I heard him walk/stagger away.

...

R-right… now, back to Feliciano…

**XxX**

Well.

Saying goodnight to Feliciano turned out to be more difficult than I originally had thought, since the idiot had _fallen asleep_ underneath the curtains.

…

Yeah, just leave it to Feliciano to pull off a stunt like that.

And so, like every mature big brother or sister would have done in my place, I grabbed a ballpoint (too bad I couldn't find a permanent marker), scribbled a mustache, goatee and some pimples on his face, and _eventually_ dragged him to his bedroom, _throwing_ him in-between the sheets.

'Night Lovi…' I heard him mumble softly as he immediately crawled underneath the covers, grabbed his pillow tighter and started to drool on it.

Instead of saying goodnight back, I only nodded a bit, then closed his door.

…

Yeah, I had issues.

**XxX**

When I came into my own bedroom, a still awake Antonio greeted me with a drowsy, half-assed and simply _amazing _smile, sitting up and stretching out his arms towards me, making all kind of teasing happy-noises when I started undressed myself.

P-perverted bastard. I gave him some annoyed and embarrassed looks, super-ultra-fastly putting my PJ's on. Then I walked over to the bed, frowning and fumbling my sleeves until Antonio understood the hint, moved closer, gently took my arms and pulled me into the bed without saying anything.

Soon after, some lights got turned off, some slow, lingering kisses were pressed onto mouths, some sweet, sugarcoated words were softly whispered into ears and some wandering arms were comfortably wrapped around me and him, all in a matter a mere seconds.

And I absolutely _loved_ all of this. The not-entirely-dark darkness, Antonio's nice kisses, his admiring words, his well-known body that held mine tight and his legs, sneakily intertwining themselves with my own… I was so very happy to let it all just happen.

…

G-god, I-I swear, I couldn't feel much happier than I did right now…

'Lovi…' Antonio then muttered in my hair, '…ah, I almost forgot… I…'

'I-I love you too…' I immediately answered, _ridiculously_ caught up in the romantic moment, and pulled him a bit lower, kissing him with closed eyes and a faint blush.

'Y-you… ah, yes, I love you as well!' he said when I let go of him again, sounding very pleasantly surprised and quickly pressing a short kiss on my lips, '…ah, but that's not what I wanted to say, my love…'

'It's not?' I opened my eyes again and frowned, pouting.

He smiled. 'Well, sure, I was planning to tell you that I love you, yes, but not just yet – I firstly wanted to tell you that I've forgotten to tell you that Russia called today - right after I had hung up on Hungary, isn't that funny?~'

Now I started to _stare_ at him.

'Russia called you?'

'No, he called _you_! I just happened to be the one answering the phone, ahaha…' He stroke my hair.

'Why? Why did that bastard call me? What did he say?'

'Hmm, something about an appointment with you, I guess? He had forgotten when you'd meet up with him, so he told me to tell you that if he didn't hear from you before 6.00 PM, he'd automatically assume you'd come by tomorrow… or something like that… ah, sorry for forgetting, Lovi… I wanted to tell you during dessert, I think… but… ah, something else came up… something much more interesting…~ Thank you for that… you were great, as always…~'

Antonio kissed and hugged me again.

I didn't kiss or hug back. No, I made a shrill, _squeaking_ sound instead.

Apparently, I was going to Russia tomorrow. A week earlier than planned.

…

What the fuck?

What the _fuck_?

_What?_


	28. Bottom II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Yup, as you are probably all aware, Russia's indeed the next country Lovi's going to visit. Yay, Russia!~ I have to say, though, I've never written Russia before… _XDDDDD _You've been warned! God, for some reason, I always seem to be doing something entirely new whenever I'm writing on this fic! Isn't that weird? Should I be concerned? Ahaha… _^^;;;

_A/n2: Call it an unusual coincidence – or just not interesting whatsoever, but Russia has been in the news lately. I don't know if you have heard of it, but starting from this year (well, actually starting from last weekend), DST (Daylight Saving Time, aka summer time), won't be observed anymore by Russia. Nope. Because of that, the news about Russia was pretty funny last week: apparently, all Russians had been very busy to catch up that one lost hour – they made trains and busses travel faster and people were constantly in a hurry, racing against the clock etc.  
_…_and for some reason, I think that's really, really funny. Come on! __**Rushin'**__ Russians!~ Ahaha!~ Funny!~ _

*mercilessly – and very _rightfully_ – slaughtered with water faucet pipe*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXVIII:

_**Big Bottom  
**__**(Spinal Tap**__**)**_

And now, I couldn't sleep.

Nope. I couldn't – fucking – _sleep_.

Even though I was lying pretty damn comfortable in Antonio's arms. I mean, _wow_. Bastard had great arms. So soft. In a manly way. Which my own stupid baby-arms would _never_ be. Ever.

…

But no matter how wonderful Antonio's arms were (something I _still_ wouldn't ever tell him, despite of the fact that… well, lately, even I _myself_ was beginning – yeah,_ beginning_ – to wonder why the fucking _fuck_ I stubbornly kept denying all of my loving thoughts concerning Antonio, because damn, why didn't I just freaking _admit_ Antonio's epicness in all it's his goofy, empty-headed and lovable glory already and say it to his face dammit dammit dammit), I still couldn't fall asleep.

I just couldn't. So I stayed awake. Yup.

…

GAH.

It's just… well… j-just the mere thought of me, going to that freaky Russia-bastard all by myself tomorrow, without having properly mentally prepared myself… it seriously scared the living shitty daylights out of me. To me, this whole Russian visit-preparation… thingy, _really_ was something that took a _lot_ of time, at least, well, a _friggin' week_, which actually also was way too soon if you asked me, a _year_ sounded better to me, actually, and _WTF _am I blabbering about again. Shut the hell up, Lovino. Asshole.

Anyway…

…what I'm trying to say is… I didn't like Russia, or _Mr_. Russia, since I refused to call him by "only" his country's name – well, in his face, that is.

_Russia_. Ugh. Russia is… a scary, tall- no, _huge_ nation with a creepy, childlike smile and a _frighteningly_ tactless way of communicating (read: freaking other nations out with really strange and creepy weapons of choice). He's supposed to be working together with America and England and a shitload of other (European) countries that actually have something to say in Europe – and there aren't a lot of those here – but at the same time, he's perfectly fine with doing the things he wants to do _exactly when he wants to do them_ – and I just _know_ no-one in this world would have the balls to tell him otherwise.

…

Well, except for America, maybe.

Feliciano and I had met Russia a couple of times already. In the past, our – former – bosses had been pretty good pals, I think, or _whatever_ the quality of their relationship was. Fact was that they didn't hate each other's company, and so, they automatically assumed Feliciano and I would be very happy and thrilled to meet the big-nosed scarf-wearer as well.

…

Yeah, well, _not so much_.

Feliciano and I were pretty much only begging for our lives during the first couple of visits, while crying and screaming random things that made our voices sound really high-pitched and unnatural and we had to freshen-up ourselves a lot more frequently than usual, so you couldn't exactly call the frequent visits a _success_. But for some crazy reason, Russia and his/our boss _never_ took the hint – of _course _they never took the hint – and so, he happily kept trying to become friends/one with us – and yes, he kept _failing_. Constantly. It was a bit sad, actually. I'd have felt sorry for him if I hadn't felt **fear** for him already.

…

Moving right along.

Nowadays, me and my brother hardly _ever_ saw the enormous country anymore, except during some (pretty useless) European meetings, you know, when I was waiting in the line for the bathroom or something and that freaky, pipe-wielding maniac happened to be _lurking_ right behind me – oooh, and I _hated _it whenever that dude was standing somewhere I couldn't glare at him…

So yeah, I think it was safe to say that Feliciano and I didn't mind it at all, not-seeing/talking to Russia that much anymore. Good riddance, _that's_ what we had thought when it had become clear to us that Russia and his boss wouldn't visit us very often anymore. Oh, we had been so relieved, so very, very relieved to hear that…

…and then a couple of peaceful, delightful years passed by like that…

…and _then_ Antonio, my sweet, yet surprisingly _whorish_ boyfriend, confessed he had slept with him.

…

I shuddered. Oh _god_, it was so _wrong_, so incredibly _wrong _to picture them together… it was just like picturing Russia's fucked-up _dressing_ _style_! Yeah, that's right, his sense of fashion was _so goddamn_ wrong, so _criminal_… hell, it was _this_ close to actually _breathing_ the essence of pure Russian _evil. _Just look at that _scarf_. I dare you. See what I mean? _Brrr_. God. No wonder the fat guy was as mad as a box of friggin' frogs.

…

But… on the other hand, Antonio wasn't exactly _sane_, either. Sure, I wouldn't call him downright _in_sane (at least, not anymore), but considering his nasty background… No, I didn't think Antonio could be seen as a "normal" personification of a nation.

…

…of course, neither of us personifications was seen as "normal" and yeah, I suppose we all have had our fair share of blood on our hands, but still.. Some countries/nations _really_ liked to push and/or _crack_ the boundaries. Like Russia and… well, _Spain_. Before he became _Antonio_. Y-you know what I mean…

Yeah, they actually had something in common – hell, maybe even _more_ than I wanted to admit, _more_ than just a little something… And that made me wonder. I mean, there was a possibility they had accidentally landed in each other's arms after having a nice chit-chat about how their (murderous) day had been, late in the afternoon, when they happened to bump into each other, years and years ago…

Huh. Now how would _that _freak-of-nature-conversation have been?

…

_Russia: 'Aahh… what a nice afternoon for a walk in the fields, don't you think so, Spain?~'_

_Spain: 'Ah, yes, I __**do**__ think it is a very pleasant afternoon, Russia!~ And the fields are looking very wonderful today!~'_

_Russia: 'Yes! Ha, but all those dead people lying around here sadden me a bit. They're ruining the view.'_

_Spain: 'Hm-hm, I couldn't agree more with you – oh, watch your step, you're almost stepping in dead-woman!'_

_Russia: 'Ew, dead-woman! Ugh, I hate it when that happens. Thank you, Spain, you saved my old shoes from getting an itsy-bitsy dirtier. You're my hero!'_

_Spain: 'The pleasure is all mine, my cold-hearted friend!~'_

_Russia: 'OH! Look! Sunflowers on this completely random field on the right!~'_

_Spain: 'AH! And tomatoes on that completely random field on the left!~'_

_Both of them simultaneously: 'How beautiful!~'_

_Russia: *gives Spain meaningful look while hopping over another dead woman*_

_Spain: *gives Russia seductive look while pushing a dead soldier away with his axe – the __**pointy**__ side*_

_Russia: 'You're just as loony as me, aren't you?~'_

_Spain: 'Loony is such a bad, __**bad**__ word, Russia…~'_

_Russia: 'Ha, I like you! Want to become one with me?'_

_Spain: 'I don't see why not!~ Let's become one in the fields!~'_

_Russia: 'Ooh, creative! Mother Russia likes that in a slave! Okay, let's do this! You go strip yourself, then I'll ditch some bothersome, killed peasants in that nearby cute little river.'_

_Spain: 'Oh! Oh! Let me help!~'_

…

…

I… _god_.

I didn't even have words to describe the disturbed feelings that flashed and ripped through my body when thinking about _that _ungodly monstrosity-image. Damn. I had no idea where _that_ came from… but I was certain it would _haunt_ me during those typical hot, Spanish afternoons in Antonio's tomato-fields… _forever_.

…

Unless Russia would tell me a whole other "I-fucked-Spain-and-this-is-how-I-did-it-_kolkolkol_"-story. Which he probably would.

…

R-right? _Right?_

**xXx**

I seriously wondered what time it was.

Antonio and I had turned off the lights at least… two, three hours ago? Something like that? Yeah, something like that, probably… I guess it was… past one o'clock? Two o'clock?

God.

…

Well. This was going to be a long night, wasn't it. Huh.

…

"Luckily enough", being wide-awake at night wasn't a new thing for me to do. Hell no. As a guy suffering from (extremely selective) insomnia, I can tell everybody who'd want to know what it's like to be staring at a blurry, dark point somewhere in the distance for more than five hours.

…

It isn't _fun_. Not at all. Your eyes get dry and stuff. You know. From all the staring.

…

So, yeah, I guess it was a very good thing my insomnia had weakened a lot since I had started dating Antonio. Sweet Spanish bastard knew _just_ how to hold me, how to share his warmth with me, how to caress me to succeed in making my heart and body feel safe and sound. And I was very thankful for that. Hadn't slept so damn well in fucking ages. I should probably thank him one day for that. Which I would. Eventually.

But.

Antonio's love and warmth and all that corny jazz didn't help me even _one fucking single bit_ right now, because it _wasn't_ my _insomnia_ that was playing up, _noooo_, it was just your old, regular, run-of-the-mill feelings of constant _worry_, _stress_, _adrenaline_, _fear_ and other ass-clenching stuff that always, _always_ ran through my veins whenever I felt something positively _horrible_ was bound to happen. You know the feeling.

And so, there was _nothing_ Antonio could do for me.

Except for slamming me on the head with a huge hammer made of _concrete_ or something.

Which I hoped he'd _never_ do.

Since it'd hurt. I mean, _damn_, he'd use a hammer made of fucking _concrete_.

…

I didn't had the slightest clue what the _**fuck**_ was I talking/thinking about.

_Ugh_. Maybe focusing my gaze on the dark blurry thing in the distance would shut my stupid thoughts up. Who cares about dry eyes anyway.

**XxX**

Hmmnn.

I sighed deeply after ending my long, loooong trail of tiresome thoughts, and squirmed a bit in the Spaniards arms, looking away from the blurry thing – I just didn't feel like staring my eyes dry today.

Yeah.

With that said, all there was left for me to do _now_, was… well, blink, look around me for a bit – hadn't got anything better to do anyway – and patiently wait for the morning to come, I suppose.

…

Shit, _don't_ give me that look now, dammit, I could totally pull that off! Of course I could!

But hopefully, I could pull that off _without_ waking Antonio up – I assumed the lucky bastard lying next to me had fallen asleep straight after his head had hit the pillow, that jerk – since the Spanish nation could use a good night's rest even more than me. I still considered him a bit weak and sickish, so I'd be kind of mad at myself if I did something to wake up up/keep him awake.

Good thing he was fast asleep and very much unaware of my current state of crazy-awakeness. I smiled a bit. _Very_ good. At least I didn't have to worry myself about him.

Or so I _thought_.

Because suddenly, Antonio made a groaning noise and carefully moved his hands up my arms to take a hold of my shoulder, pressing his mouth to the nape of my neck to leave a few kisses.

'…why are you still awake, my love…'

I was _shocked_ to hear his tired, yet very awake voice and if I hadn't been lying down, my jaw would have probably hit the floor and broken in a thousand little pieces.

'W-what the… A-Antonio?'

'Hmmm…?' he muttered.

'Why the fuck aren't you sleeping, d-dammit! Do you have any idea how late it it?'

I could feel he shook his head. 'No… do you?'

'No! B-but that's not the point! Shit, g-go to sleep already!'

'You first.'

'N-no, _you_ first!'

Antonio exhaled softly against the back of my head, something that sounded a lot like a sigh.

'Lovi… what's the matter, hmm?'

Even though he couldn't see me, I still put on a straight face, trying to sound as convincing as possible when I awkwardly bent one of my arm behind my back and tapped his head.

'Nope, nothing's wrong with me, nothing at all, you just go to sleep, then I'll—'

'_Lovino_.'

He grunted a bit and grabbed the hand hysterically patting his hair, slowly guiding it back to where it was before, but not releasing it afterwards.

'Tell me, Lovino.'

His voice now sounded a bit worried, his body pressed closer to mine.

'…I thought that you didn't suffer from that silly sleeplessness-sickness of yours whenever I held you… right?'

'Right.' I mumbled, giving a squeeze to his hand.

He squeezed back. 'So… why are you still awake then?'

'…dunno.'

'Now, don't get mad, but… has it… got anything to do with me? With your…' I heard he gulped, '…your feelings of love for me…? Have they _extremely dramatically _changed over the last few hours? It's just… my hugs don't seem to affect you anymore, s-so…'

I rolled my eyes and gave him a firm headbutt – with the back of my head, how about _that_!

The Spaniard whined and let go of me. 'Ouch! My nose!'

'Serves you right. That's what you get from asking stupid questions, dumbass.' I snorted, and clacked my tongue. '…damn, ask me something moronic like that again _one more time_ and I'm gonna kick your ass.'

'…b-but Lovi…'

Naturally, I interrupted him. 'No! Don't! Shush! If you really must know, there's _another_ reason why I can't sleep, dammit! And it has got nothing to do with my – by the way _unchanged_ – love for you!'

'Oh.'

Antonio was quiet for a while, before he heaved a relieved sigh and nuzzled the back of my neck once again, wrapping his arms around my waist. Then he placed some apologetic kisses on my partly bare shoulders – t-the _hell_, w-when the fuck had he (slightly) slipped off my shirt, dammit…

'Sorry… ahahaha… ah, please feel free to hit me to your heart's content whenever I start talking like that again, Lovino…'

'Oh, I _will_, don't you worry about that…' I grumbled, wiggling around to face him, '…stupid wuss. You're pathetic.'

He laughed weakly. 'Maybe…'

Silence.

'…h-hey, Antonio.'

'What is it, my oh so very agressive and mean love of my life?~'

'Oh, _haha_.' I looked up at him and scowled. 'Funny.'

'You really think so? Ah, I don't think it was funny at all…' He still chuckled, though.

'Remind me to give you a book about that extraordinary phenomenon called "sarcasm" once.'

'Ah, sure, I will… Oh, by the way, wasn't there something you wanted to tell me? About the reason of your very much awake state of mind, possibly?'

Antonio's somewhat dimmed eyes gave me a sleepy, yet questionable glance.

'Y-yes.' I murmured, timidly pressing one of my blushing cheek to his chest, '…I guess it's because... I'm nervous.'

'Nervous, you say…'

'Because I'm going to visit Russia and all tomorrow. I'm… well, actually, I'm a bit… a bit s-_scared_, Antonio…'

I shut my eyes tightly, inwardly cursing myself for acting this fucking vulnerable _and _praising myself for not-being afraid to be _myself_ around the person I probably loved the most, and gripped his shirt firmly.

'…j-just a bit, though! I-I swear!'

Antonio didn't say anything right away and moved his hands further up to cup my face, calmly tilting it up, so that I was somewhat able to look at him, in spite of the darkness of the night.

He looked pretty damn worried.

'Lovino… if it's _that_ scary for you, just stay here, at home.'

I gave him a puzzled look. 'S-stay at home?'

'Yes, stay. Stay with me and your cute brother (that reminds me, I haven't even properly greeted him yet, _gasp~_) and take a day off your… weekly trips around Europe. _Please_ Lovi, you weren't supposed to meet him this week anyway!'

W-what? I almost instantly froze in his arms. 'H-how do you know about that? Who told you?'

'Oh. U-umm…' Antonio mumbled, suddenly strangely panicky, '…no one told me, but…well… Russia told me something about having an appointment with you on the phone yesterday… and you reacted very unsettled on that news… so I figured that, since you're visiting a lot of nations on Friday lately, you probably had planned to meet him on a _Friday_, and _not _upcoming _Saturday_… ahaha… ha…'

'Oh, Aha.' I nodded a bit, relaxing again, '…okay, that makes sense…'

I felt Antonio's (for some reason quite _tensed_) muscles in his arms and legs relax as well. Hmm? I vaguely wondered why, but not for long. Probably his muscles had been tense because of his still somewhat present illness. Yeah, that had to be it. I mean, what else could it be? I think I had more reasons to be tense about something that _him_, dammit.

'So.. what do you say, hmm?' Antonio leaned down and gave me a swift peck on the mouth, '…just make another appointment with Russia for next Friday and stay with me and Feli this Saturday. Come on, it'll be fun.'

I bit my lower lip the second Antonio's lips had left mine and frowned deeply.

'Y-yeah, it would be fun. Probably. B-but I can't do that. That Russian freak is expecting me tomorrow… or today… or whatever day it is… and to postpone the visit _now_, after not responding properly when I – apparently – had the chance to… that wouldn't be very _polite_, you know… So, I'm going. No matter how much I hate it.'

'Don't act so ridiculous, Lovi! Since when do _you_ bother yourself about _politeness, _anyway!~'

'Watch it, asshole.'

'Ahaha.'

**XxX**

Well.

For a short while, Antonio continued trying to convince me to stay at home tomorrow… but when he noticed the stubborn, unmoved look on my face, he realized I wasn't going to yield, and eventually, he gave up and decided to go back to sleep.

…however, not before stealing some sluggish, sloppy kisses from me and whispering – with that hot, _tangy_ breath of his – that he'd promise me that everything was going to be all right in the end, that there was nothing for me to be afraid of _and_ that he'd personally _strangle_ Russia if he "was weird enough" to try and do something to me tomorrow.

I… _think_ he said a lot of more sappy shit like that, sappy shit that would've probably made my blood rush to the (overworked) veins in my face if I had heard it, but I didn't hear fuck.

Since I had actually fallen _asleep_.

Apparently, the soothing, gentle words of Antonio, reassuring and calming my body and mind, had done the trick.

…

_Damn_, that Spanish bastard was _good_.

**xXx**

Although I could easily think of a couple of nights that had been a lot _more_ pleasant and nice to experience than _this _particular wacky night, and although all of my usually oh so _colorful _dreams where pretty fucking _boring _and… well, _dreamless _this time, I still couldn't say I slept _bad._

Because… lying in Antonio's arms and slipping into unconsciousness while listening to his confident, dependable voice whispering a bunch of sweet words into my ears… w-well, that was pretty much _wonderfully delightful_ for an easily stressed-out guy like me, so I guess _that _saved the night.

The rest of the night, I slept pretty peacefully.

And I had probably expected to wake up pretty peacefully as well, possibly with Antonio hugging or kissing me awake, softly asking me what I wanted to have for breakfast…

…but instead of that, I got woken up by a screaming brother, bursting into the room, making me jump and sit upright in bed immediately.

...

What the _fuck_?

**XxX**

'LOVINO! VEE! LOVINO!'

Feliciano screeched fanatically, slamming the door against the wall _so_ _damn_ _harshly_ after coming in that I had sort-of expected it to bounce back against the wall, straight into that idiot's stupid face, but it _didn't_, of course – I mean, I wasn't _that_ lucky – so that was too bad.

I loosened up my tight grip around the sheets, hands all stiff and painful because of some intense clenching that had been going on _automatically _after Feliciano had stormed in – not wearing any clothes, except for a huge, pink, oversized shirt – and shot an evil, yet drowsy glare at my slightly younger brother, who was currently pacing around the room restlessly.

'_Feliciano_…' I said, my voice dark and low and hopefully very frightening, and sat up even more. '…you have exactly five seconds before I come out of bed, grab that vase – yes, that big one over there – and _smash_ _it_ across your _face_, you fucking basta—'

Feliciano didn't give me time to finish my line and ran towards me, _smacked_ his hands on my shoulders and roughly shook me back and forth, back and forth, back and _fucking _forth.

'Lovi! Vee! No! Now's not the time to threaten me with fragile furniture!'

'Wha- but- I-' I attempted to speak – and yes, _failed_.

'You've got some explaining to do, big brother! Vee… t-tell me… w-w-what is _he _doing here?' Feliciano stopped rocking me, pursed his lips and tried to took serious, his brown eyes glossy form unshed fear-tears.

'Okay, first of all, don't fucking _touch _me, you freak!' I peeled his hands off me – and "accidentally" scratched the back of one of his hands while doing so, '…and second of all… s-second of all…'

I shyly took a side-glance to the blissfully snoring Spaniard (the hell, he hadn't woken up from all of that noise?) lying next to me and huffed, folding my arms when I looked back at my panicky brother.

'…s-second of all, y-you know _very well_ what Antonio is doing here, d-dammit…'

For a moment, Feliciano forgot what he was being hyperactive about and cocked his head a bit. '…huh? What are you… I'm not talking about big brother Toni, Lovino! Vee… oh no, like you said, I know _very well _what he's doing here!'

Oh. Damn. My cheeks became two shades redder and I quickly reverted to the original subject.

'T-then what _is _the motherfucking reason you're being jumpy about, you… you _hooligan_!'

My brother's face abruptly became paler and his eyes got somewhat bigger. He swallowed something as he nervously started pointing at something behind him.

'L-Lovino, I don't know _what _you did, b-but for some reason, _he_ is standing in front of our door… and asking for _you_. Vee…'

'Feliciano, I don't know what you're—'

He gave an irritated growl and poked my nose. '_Russia_, big brother! It's _Russia_!'

I gaped at him, one of my hands, ready to slap his finger off my face, stopping approaching in mid-air.

'R… Ru… _Russia_… Oh my god. He's in Italy? He's… he's _here_?'

'Y-yes!'

'A-are you sure?'

'Very sure!'

'Are you very very _very _sure?'

'I am! I _am_!' Feliciano looked like he was about to cry and nodded desperately, his lower lip quivering, his voice breaking when he opened his yap again.

'T-t-t-there's a _Lada 112_-car standing on the lawn of our front garden… I saw it myself when I went to get myself some orange juice from the kitchen this morning… a-a _Russian _car… it's… it's white and scary and… and I think I saw a flash of _scarf_ when I looked a bit closer…'

'Oh god, _not _a flash of scarf!' I gulped and just sat in bed for a few seconds, before deciding to get out of bed and get dressed – as soon as possible.

'L-Lovi…' Feliciano watched me dressing myself, tears already leaking, '…w-what are you going to do? You aren't going to flee, are you? Don't leave me and big brother Toni alone!'

'…d-d-don't give me any tempting ideas, Feliciano, _please_.' I stuttered, putting on my pants backwards and putting them off again while hissing and swearing and putting them on wrongly again and WHAT THE FUCK!

My stupid little brother started to hop from one foot onto the other, too caught up in his own thoughts to pay any attention to what I was saying/doing/swearing, until he suddenly jolted his head up. 'Vee… I… I don't know _what_ you're going to do about Russia, b-but please tell me it's okay for me to lock myself up in my closet for the time being…'

I frowned, putting on a shirt. 'He isn't coming for _you_, dipshit, he's coming for me – you just said so yourself!'

'Yeah… b-b-but I'm _sure_ he'll _straightly_ go for me as soon as he's done devouring _you_!'

I stared at him, completely speechless.

He clasped a hand in front of his mouth. 'Vee… did I say that out loud? Sorry.'

'Look, just… just do whatever the hell you want to do…' I slowly said, rubbing my knuckles over my temples, '…then I'll just go downstairs, and… and things will surely get figured out. Okay?'

'Okay…' Feliciano pouted.

'Good.' I took a hold of the doorknob and looked over my shoulder. 'Watch Antonio for me, will you?'

'Sure thing!' Feliciano suddenly smiled, _broadly_, '…I guess I'll use him as a shield when the going gets tough! Vee… big brother Toni is so handy!'

'Yeah. _Whatever_.' I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room, muttering. '…just don't break him, for God's sake – it's the _only_ love of my life I have, dammit…'

**xXx**

When I had come downstairs and walked through the hall, my heart began to anxiously _ram_ itself against my ribs, as if it wanted to jump _out _of my chest and run away really, really fast.

And I hadn't even spotted Russia yet, dammit…

But…

But only a few steps further, I all of a sudden saw a lone, tall figure, standing in the doorway, blocking most of the sunlight from outside, making himself and the tiles right in front of him seem pitch-black. There was a long, broad scarf winded around the invisible neck of the shadowy person and it looked like this same person was looking around himself, wondering where the hell he was.

…

That was Russia, alright.

Okay. I took a deep, unsteady breath, checked my pants (not backwards – good), then checked the nearest exits (window – other window – crack in the floor) and _finally_…

…turned around and _took off like you wouldn't believe, _successfully emigrating to Australia just a few hours later.

…

No, just kidding.

But damn, it sure sounded a whole lot better than having a forced conversation with Russia.

…

…right, e-enough of this, let's… let's just get on with it, dammit…

**xXx**

Russia saw me. Oh god.

Russia actually _saw_ me – carefully – approaching him, and instantly concentrated his light, purple-colored, piercing orbs on me, indirectly _stabbing_ me with those big, shiny and cutesy eyes of his, the cruelty "hidden" underneath that thin layer of innocence _crystal_ _clear_.

And he just kept smiling that… that _horrifying_ smile of his, giving me goosebumps all over my body.

Oh _crap_. I shivered, but kept moving closer to him. I was so scared. I was so damn scared, it wasn't even funny. My hands were shaking, my palms were sweaty and didn't even remember the last time I had actually _blinked_. Now _that's _what I call _scared_!

Russia didn't notice, or in the very least _pretended_ not to notice my trembling body and smiled a bit more, his thin lips spreading themselves.

'Ha, good-morning, Italy Romano!'

Instead of greeting him back, I went with my very realistic "fish out of the water and about to die while gasping for breath"-act and opened and closed my mouth for a while, until I saw something of bored annoyance appearing on the Russian's face, _just_ below that twisted smile of his.

Fuck, that _wasn't good wasn't good wasn't good at all gaaaaaah!_

Within a matter of split-seconds, I stopped acting like a fishy retard and greeted him back.

'G-g-g-good-morning, mister Russia…'

He curiously moved his head to the side. 'You're stuttering, Italy Romano. Why are you stuttering?'

'I-I…'

'Italy Romano? I don't have all day, you know.' Russia informed me, his mouth disappearing behind his large scarf, '…oh well. Could you hurry up and get into my car, yes? I have a lot things to discuss with you, lots and lots of things! Isn't that great?'

'Get… get into your car?' I repeated, mind too occupied with being terrified to prevent him from firmly grabbing my wrist with a huge, ice-cold hand and briskly pulling me after him as he walked outside, humming a song I didn't know.

Eventually, I woke up from my weird gaze and tried to fight against his painful grip, protesting weakly.

'W-what are you… no! D-dammit, I don't want to come with you, a-at least let me tell Antonio that I'm…'

'You need my advice for something, right, Italy Romano?' he interrupted me excitedly in a singsong-voice while almost _frolicking _through my and Feliciano's garden – which would have looked incredibly stupid, if it hadn't looked incredibly _scary_ in the first place.

Nevertheless, I nodded.

'Yeah, I… I need your advice… b-but…'

'Ha! Don't worry! I'll help you out, Italy Romano!' Russia said, giving me a push towards the white car on top of Feliciano's beloved, now _wrecked_ flowerbeds. I shrieked, tumbled forwards and would've probably bumped my head, if a familiar looking male with a somewhat sad, somewhat nervous smile on his lips hadn't caught me halfway.

'That was close, mister Romano!'

I looked at him in confusion. That was… wasn't that Lithuania? Yeah, he totally was. Huh. Okay. Apparently, he also was still alive. Good for him.

'Please watch your step, okay? You could've hurt yourself.' Lithuania said.

I felt I nodded, forcing a smile. Why was I forcing a smile? I didn't have _any_ fucking reason to force a freaking smile, and yet, here I was, about to get kidnapped by Russia and his Lithuanian buddy, forcing fake smiles like _crazy._

'Lithuania, please help Italy Romano into the car, yes?' Russia ordered the other nation, beaming me strange, hopeful smile at me before getting in first.

'Yes, right away, mister Russia.' The Lithuanian turned to face me and opened one of the doors of the – ugly – Lada 112.

'Please step in, mister Romano.'

…

…

Wait, did I even had a fucking _choice_?


	29. Tush II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Has anybody seen the hilarious April Fools-comic that Himaruya has made last week? The one with numerous countries running around in embarrassing costumes (like Russia – in a SKANKY MAID-COSTUME WITH HIS NAKED THIGH SHOWING OH MY SWEET GOD)? It's great! It has FrUk, Spamano, USUK and a lot of other ships-teases in it and, well, you should go look it up!~ It's around Livejournal._^^ _Go ahead, try it out, you'll love it. Especially if you have the hots for Yandere!Spain. Like me. UNFFFFFFFF. _*_*

_A/n2: Some of you probably have already noticed the fact that whenever Lovino is driving to another country, he arrives at his destination ridiculously fast, without breaking a sweat and without having a lot of traffic-related problems on his way to the country-of-the-week. Of course, this isn't so in "real" life: although most countries are indeed lying very close to each other in Europe and although it __**is**__ plausible to drive from the Netherlands to Spain within one day (yes, I speak out of personal experience), it's still a very tiresome thing to do and after traveling so damn far, for so many hours, you wouldn't be up for anything other than sleeping for a day or two. I'm just saying, since Lovi and Ivan seem to reach Russia pretty damn quickly, all the way from Italy! _

_Pfffrrt. What can I say? Yay for fiction!~ It makes everything possible!~_

_A/n3: Hmm, kinda short chapter, I know. I'm not feeling really good lately (and don't let those abovementioned A/n's, which I wrote earlier this week, give you a wrong impression about my current mood) since a lot of things have happened this week, so yeah… please bear with me._^^;;; _O-okay?_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXIX:

_**My Mushy Tushy Baby  
**__**(The Fenwicks**__**)**_

…

Well, here I was.

Sitting in the white _Lada 112_, with a bewildered expression on my face, a disturbingly _peppy_ Russian next to me and a oddly calm-looking Lithuanian in the front of the car, behind the wheel, trying to drive _and _search for a nice radio station at the same time, 'cause apparently, Russia always got "a little frustrated" whenever there wasn't any soothing music playing for him while driving by car.

Said Lithuanian suddenly made a triumphant noise of happiness when the sound of _singing children _filled the air inside of the car.

'Oh! Mister Russia, I think I have a rather nice one now! This station seems to play childish, Italian nursery songs only! Am I right, mister Romano?'

I tensed when I was referred to, but still managed to nod, miraculously enough. Somewhat. Well, at least it looked like it.

'Y-yeah, those are nursery songs… I guess…' I murmured.

Russia chuckled, clapping his hands. 'Ha, that's great! I love the sound of singing children. Just leave it on this one, then!'

Okay, _what_ _the f_…

…

Yeah. I know.

I _know_, dammit. It was my own, _fat_ fault. I should have run away when I had the chance to. I should have just done _that_. I should have flipped both Russia and Lithuania off and I should have run back to Antonio, hiding myself in his arms while screaming at him to protect me from the freaky Baltic/Slavic nations. I know he would've protected me. I know he would've probably successfully _repelled _them out of the garden and out of Italy itself. I _fucking knew all of that_, for fuck's sake!

And yet, I hadn't done all of that.

No, instead of doing something smart, I decided to do something that was criminally _stupid __**and**_ that would most-likely drastically reduce my lifespan: I stepped into the car and let Russia and Lithuania kidnap me – fucking _kidnap me_ – out of my own country, _without_ actively trying to stop them, _without _yelling at them and _without _informing Antonio and Feliciano of my whereabouts.

Fuck. And I didn't even have a cell-phone with me either – mine was still in Spain, and Antonio's was in my other pants.

Oh _shit_.

Oh _damn_.

…

Oh, _really_, way to fucking _go_, Lovino! Aren't you a goddamn _genius _for letting something so… so very _unnecessary_ happen so frighteningly _easily_. Man, you should probably get a trophy for being such a sad, _sad _excuse for an "independent" nation! Surely your people must be very proud of you! Surely!

…

Maybe I should follow some self-defense lessons…

…or… you know, grow some fucking _balls_ already.

That'd be nice.

**xXx**

'Ha, what's _that_, Italy Romano?'

Suddenly, after a couple of nerve-wrecking minutes (and some creepy nursery songs - in my own native language, which all of a sudden was _freaking scary_) had passed, Russia probably must have thought that it was time to torture me, since he _plunged _his fucking forefinger from _Frozen Hell_ into my chest and… and…

…and _poked_ me! Multiple times! GAH!

'W-what do you mean?' I stammered right away, gasping a bit and looking down to that… that _large_ finger, sticking onto my shirt. Holy shit, that big-nosed serial killer was touching me again, and this time, he was even touching me in an area only Antonio was allowed to touch me – a-and only when no-one was around, and the lights were dimmed, and he had this "hurrrr~"-glint in his eyes, and my clothes hung a little loose…

…

Huh. Musing about myself about to do naughty stuff with Antonio while a touchy-feely Russian was brutally _violating_ me by merely pushing the fabric of the shirt I wore…

…

Damn. I should've sexed some more with Antonio yesterday.

'Ohhh? There's something written there!'

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Russia's face all of a sudden got _extremely_ close to my chest, as if he wanted to rub his face in it (_OH GOD NO JUST NO_), and he narrowed his focused eyes, his lips mumbling and moving a bit without saying anything out loud.

'M-mister Russia, I don't know _what_ you're doing, but I'd like it if you fucking _stopped_ doing that!' I hissed, voice sounding surprisingly determined, maybe even more determined than I actually _was_, really, and pressed my back further into the white leather (oh, _classy_) of the seats.

Russia snapped his head up, _just like that_, cracking his neck and staring at me in excited curiosity.

Oh _brother_. I instantly felt sick and wrinkled my nose. Then I noticed the tall asshole had his hands placed down on the seat and was now leaning closer to me, his eyes looking almost like Antonio's whenever _that _bastard felt happy – only a tad more, you know, _psychopathic._

That never was a good thing.

'Italy Romano?' Russia persistently pushed his _fat_ finger against me once again, '…hey, can you tell me what it says?'

'I-I-I don't know what you're talking abou—'

'That text on your shirt.'

I blinked my eyes, still looking down, and plucked the thin, white shirt. '_This _text, you mean?'

The Russian nation's grin became brighter and he nodded giddily, as if he was a little schoolboy, about to learn a whole bunch of intellectual shit from his well-respected teacher - _me_.

Seconds before _ripping my head off my rump with his __**pinky**__-__**finger**__._

Oh sweet Lord.

'Ha, that text… it seems to be some sort of secret message… but it's not in Russian, or any other language I'm able to read, so what is it? Do you know that language?' he asked, eyes wide open.

I frowned, trying to hide my embarrassed blush underneath my scowl.

'O-of _course_ I know that language, it's… it's fucking _Spanish_, dammit…'

He tilted his head. 'Spanish?'

'Yes. Spanish.'

'From Spain?'

'That's what they say.'

'Ha?'

'Yeah.'

There was a short, uncomfortable silence between us.

During that silence, Lithuania drove over a very bad road ('Gee, I sure wonder where we are…') covered with loose pebbles and cracks. There were more people on the road, just some random Italian guys, driving around like madmen in cars without a roof while shouting flirty stuff to Italian girls, who were also driving around, but more like mad_women _instead of _-men_,with giant hats on their heads, making them look like big, sunglass-wearing pancakes.

…

My people are so very special, it's a fucking _crime_.

I watched the typical scene for a bit, before nervously turning back to Russia. I saw Russia had been staring at my wonderful people as well, a incomprehensible expression on his face as he finally tore his gaze away and _bore_ it in my hesitant eyes instead.

'Hey, do you know any Spanish, Italy Romano? Can you tell me what's on the shirt?'

'…"shut up".'

The Russian's face darkened noticeable – a-and very _quickly_, too, without him ever losing the calm, wicked smile.

'Ha, how _rude_, Italy Romano. I was only asking.'

His voice didn't sound good. Not good. Not good at all. No— _OH SHIT, _he probably thought I was cussing him out!

I swallowed. The oh so well-known blushes on my face faded away _instantly_ to make room for a pair of very _pale _cheeks.

Quick, Lovino! Say something! Something _useful_!

'N-no, you don't understand… i-it _really_ says"shut up"! B-but in _Spanish_!'

Russia didn't seem to buy it and narrowed his eyes.

'_Really_ now?'

'Yes! I-I mean, come on, mister Russia, why the hell would I lie about that, dammit!' I insisted, nodding.

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you don't like me at all and would probably _thankfully_ grab every opportunity to say something unkind – no, not just unkind, but downright_ mean_ – to me or something along those lines? Ha, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, Italy Romano. I'm not _stupid_, you know.'

He shrugged quasi-nonchalantly, but actually looked a bit sad, maybe even disappointed. Which didn't make me feel bad at all, since I was way too badass and _gangster_ to feel guilty about giving such a bad impression of myself to the Russian creep.

…

Still, it stung.

I sighed, ran a hand through my hair and sighed again, trying to wonder why I was actively trying to think of something to cheer Russia up (had I lost my fucking _mind_?) while I was trying not to hit my head against the low ceiling of the crappy car at the same time, since Lithuania drove like a fucking _skippyball on speed_. And _everybody_ knew that was a deadly combination, dammit.

Right… I should tell Russia exactly what I wanted to tell him. But with _tact_.

'I don't like you, no. Not at all. I think you're scary.'

…

…yeah, tact my _ass. _Look at me, all tactful like a total suicidal _spazz_! Shit! Seriously, I mean, _damn_, didn't my life have any value for me _whatsoever_, dammit?

God…

'B-but!' I stammered quickly, because I noticed the atmosphere around Russia swinging dangerously in-between very offended and impatiently patient faster than I had ever noticed Antonio getting undressed when he knew I was huffing and waiting in bed for him – man, and I tell you, that was_ fast_…

'…I'm not lying, my shirt… no, _Antonio's _shirt… says those exact words. I know Spanish good enough to assure you that. Just… just look it up later if you don't believe me, or something...'

Russia looked at me a bit longer. In fact, I think that strangely-staring stalker had been observing me all this freaking time already, but still, it caught my eye. And my eye wasn't amused. Hell no. My eye didn't like eyes that weren't like _normal _ones. I mean, _hello_, that dude had fucking _purple eyes_! Whoa! Sick!

'Ha, how weird, Italy Romano.' Russia beamed yet another creeper-smile at me. '…why are you wearing Spain's clothes?~'

I carefully lifted an eyebrow. 'W-why, you ask…'

'Yes!~ Why?~' he repeated squiggly.

…

Um.

I scratched the back of my head and cleared my throat, an (even more) uncomfortable expression appearing on my heated face.

'W-well… I sometimes wears his stuff, because… u-um… you… you _are _aware of my and Antonio's… r-relationship, r-right? You… y-you were invited on Austria's ball as well back then, s-so you must have seen us…'

'Haha. You're so _funny, _Italy Romano!' The large man glanced at me and shook his head, as if he was talking to a little kid instead of a _very_ good-looking, yet slightly trembling Italian.

'I… am?' said Italian asked, surprised.

'Sure you are!~ Just _what_ did I do to give you the impression that I actually remembered something as irrelevant as your and Spain's getting-together?~ Haha! Silly boy!~ As if you're of _that _much importance to me! Ha, no offense, but Italy Romano, you're not even a full nation!'

Hmmmmrrrn. Evil bastard. _Ooooh, look at me, I'm Russia, I'm a mad, huge and important and very intimidating son of a bitch who scares the whole world and who makes China's civilians bring out their trash on the streets whenever I laugh, but I also wet my pants uncontrollably whenever my kooky little sister is running loose!~ Ohhh, fear me!~_

…

Sadly enough, I still _did_.

Ugh.

Of course, I didn't say anything back at Russia's nasty comment and found myself staring at the sign flashing by just outside the stupid _Lada 112_, that said that we were leaving Italy and that Slovenia was _welcome!~ing_ us wonderful tourists.

…

God, just where was I getting myself into, dammit…

**xXx**

Think the pain ended when Lithuania drove us through Slovenia?

_Noooooo_. No, no, of course not. Sheesh.

Just cue to a very _unusual_ conversation with the broad Russian sitting next to me, unmovable.

'So, you and Spain are lovers, yes?'

I winced – it just happened, I couldn't stop myself.

'Y-yeah, pretty much?'

'You're in love with him and vice versa?'

'Yes, w-we are…'

'Ha…' His eyes grew a bit bigger, '…hey, does that mean you and Spain are fucking each other?'

…

Oh my fucking _god_. Fucking Russia said fuck. What the _fuck_. Now I knew for sure nothing in this world was sacred anymore.

…

Okay, just keep it cool. I-I guess… yeah, I guess I should just… just respond.

'…w-what kind of question is _that_, dammit…' I managed to sputter.

'Hmmm? It's a very easy question!~ Now answer me. Do you _get_ _any_, Italy Romano?' I could hear he most-likely _wouldn't_ tolerate a witty remark.

I only shuddered and complied, nodding.

'…well… y-yes, we do… you see… well, Antonio insists on calling it "making love", b-but—'

'Huh, "making love", you say…'

He said the words like he had never used them in this context before.

…

Which probably was _exactly_ the case.

'Hey, how's that, Italy Romano?' the Russian man continued.

I gave him a weary look. '…how's what?'

'That "making love"-thing you're speaking of. How's that working out for you? Is it different from fucking? In any case, it sounds so interesting!~'

I frowned. _God_, what a wacky, crazy bastard. I averted his questioning orbs for a short while, before giving in anyway (I didn't have a choice, fucked-up asshole just kept on _watching _me, d-dammit) and I shrugged.

'Actually, I-I don't _know_ if making love is much… _different _from sex only, without strings attached, because… I've never just… just _fucked_ before, mister Russia.'

He seemed to be confused.

'What do you mean?'

I didn't know why, but all of a sudden, I started to fanatically rub the folds in my pants with the palms of my hands – most-likely because I sweated like _whoa_. My hands were practically _dripping_, dammit.

'W-what I mean is… I-I've never… never… I don't… A-Antonio and I… um… I've always just… just… _m-made love_, mister Russia… Antonio was my f-first… you know… and my feelings for him haven't ever… faltered, actually, so…'

Russia became quiet. He started to fumble with his fingers and looked down to his lap, a bewildered aura emitting from him, like a… a flickering _flashlight_. Yes, read that right: a flickering flashlight. Shut up, it's an awesome metaphor and you _know_ _it_.

'You've always had sex out of love, Italy Romano?' he then asked, carefully.

'I think so, yes…' I mumbled.

'You still have sex out of love?'

'Y-yes.'  
In fact, just yesterday.

'With Spain?'

'That's right.'

'…ha, that's amazing…'

'Thanks, I guess…'

'Italy Romano? Maybe… um.'

Russia shuffled a bit closer to me, one of his hands clenched to a fist, the other one firmly grabbing the short sleeve of my shirt, making me feel like I was caught within the trap of some sort of clamp while my poor, startled heart skipped a few beats.

'W-w-w-w-w-w-what is it!' I shrieked and _my god, that were his motherfucking __**nails**__ pricking into my skin, gah!_

'Since you're saying you're so very experienced at love, maybe _**you**_ can help me figure out if those weird thingies I'm feeling lately is anything like that.' Russia said, slowly weakening his grip around my arm a bit.

…

…

Russia? Experiencing thingies?

Experiencing _feelings?_

…

I stopped doing _whatever the hell _I was doing to shamelessly _gape_ at him.

The Russian didn't budge and looked right back at me, wearing the same scary, unreadable mug as always, but now with some cutesy, warm _blushes_ on his normally cold cheeks.

Also, he smiled – and I had never seen him with a smile _that _vulnerable before.

'Can you help me out, Italy Romano?'

**xXx**

While violently crossing through Croatia, Hungary _and _Ukraine – _damn_, that lanky Lithuania-guy certainly knew how to step on the friggin' _gas_! – I slowly came to realize the meaning of my kidnapping…

…since Russia told me everything after my mindless _staring_ at him had begun to annoy him.

Apparently, he had been wanting to ask _me _for some advise as well, and after waiting and waiting and waiting for so many weeks before he could be able to meet me, he had grown fed-up with it.

So yesterday, instead of waiting just one more mere week for me to come to Moscow, he decided to call me and give me an unreasonable short amount of time to tell him the "right" date of when we would meet – and if I didn't call him back before the clock would strike six, he'd _automatically_ assume I'd meet him the very next day.

Naturally, it had turned out that the Russian creep had called me around 5.58 PM.

And to make things even _worse_, it was _Antonio_ who had answered that call, completely unaware of what Russia was up to, and he was a-okay with whatever Russia was telling him, since he was a dense fucking bastard who was too caught up with thinking about all the sex he was planning to have with me later that evening to keep such a minor detail in mind.

Even though _**I**_ was the one who _made_ him forget it. With vanilla-flavored table-sex.

…

…o-oh, screw it, as if Antonio remembering Russia's call would have made any difference: I came back home around 7.00 – 7.30 PM, so yeah, no matter if Antonio had told me or not, I'd be in hell anyway.

But I digress. I always digress. Digressing is fucking wonderful.

Russia originally was planning to wait for me in Moscow, in the restaurant (called _"Turandot"_ or something) in which we had made the appointment some weeks ago, but then he changed his mind and came to pick me up instead: this way, I could advise _him_ on the way to Russia, and he'd advise _me _when we were having breakfast/lunch in Moscow.

…

Yeah, the bastard had thought it all out.

Too bad he didn't think about _me_ and _my_ priorities at all, dammit.

…

Well, nothing I could change about the situation _now_, could I?

Ugh.

**xXx**

'So, um… mister Russia.' I started, right after his explanation.

'Yes?' Russia said, shooting an eerie glance at Lithuania, who was wrestling with the damn radio again ('J-just give it some time, mister Russia!').

'You… said wanted my advice or something because you're experiencing some feelings… right?'

He instantly forgot about the radio and grinned happily. 'Ha, indeed, Italy Romano!'

I sighed deeply, almost desperately.

'…w-why would you want to ask _me_ about stuff like that? Why didn't you… I don't know, bother _other_ countries with that? I mean… I'm not good at feelings _myself_! I think it would have been better if you had asked… well, France, or maybe even Antonio, 'cause they are—'

'They are no good.' Russia firmly said, snorting. 'I need to have advice from someone who's quite innocent and pretty _new _in the world of that silly thing called love, since… since I think I might be a new person in that world, as well.'

…what?

'Are… are you in _love_ with somebody, mister Russia?' I asked, my voice (amazingly enough) sounding more curious than scared.

'Ha, I don't know. _You_ should tell me if I am or not.' He smiled, and for a second, I think I saw something like honest _bashfulness_ flashing over his face.

I gave him a small, halfhearted nod. 'Um. Okay. Well… tell me about your feelings, then. What do you feel whenever you… are with the person who makes you feel this way?'

Russia sat upright some more and tapped his forefinger to his chin, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

'I feel odd. Not in a bad way, but not in a good way, either. I can't think about anything else anymore and I'm constantly confronted with everything that makes me think about this nation.'

Aha. Nation. So it was a nation he was in love with.

'Ha, it's a very stressful feeling, Italy Romano. I really don't know if it means I genuinely _like_ this nation, or that I'd just like to play around with it for a bit.'

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lithuania, flinching.

'Is it… is it a male or a female you're talking about, mister Russia?' I quietly asked.

The Russian chuckled teasingly and rested a finger on his lower lip.

'Ha, I wish I could tell you, but I really don't want to. It's my secret!~'

'Oh.' I was at a loss of words.

'But you know him/her.' Russia calmly said, intertwining all of his fingers.

'I… I do? Do know him/her _well_?'

'Yes. At least, I think so. But that's not important right now. More important is, what do _you_ think these feelings mean, Italy Romano? Do you think it's something that can be described as feelings of love? I'd really want to know that.'

He looked at me in silent anxiety – yes, anxiety!

Oh great, so now he expected _me_ to cut the knot. Fucking fantastic, dammit. I licked my dry lips and thought about his words for a while, before answering.

'…from what you've told me, yeah, I think there are certainly some elements of… being in love with somebody in it… like the stress, and those weird feelings that aren't bad or good to feel, and the frustration and confusion… but… well, I'd like to know, mister Russia…just what would you feel when this nation you're in love with told you he/she was in love with you, as well?'

Russia's eyes widened and his cheeks seemed to flush – just a little bit, but still, they became a lot less grayish.

'Ha, that would be wonderful, Italy Romano. That would be a dream come true. I don't know why, it's very strange, but it _is_. And it would make me very happy.'

'Then… then I think you're indeed in love, mister Russia.' I concluded.

'Ha? I am, yes?'

'That's what I think, mister Russia.'

'So I'm not mad at this person?'

'No.'

He heaved a relieved sigh and slouched somewhat.

'Phew. Glad I asked you first, before storming over to his/her House with a nice big water faucet pipe. Beating this nation up instead of realizing I actually love him/her _could_ have caused some weird misunderstandings.'

'Yeah. Right. I think that could have caused _more_ than just some weird misunderstandings, mister Russia.' I muttered under my breath, and grimaced.

'Did you say something, Italy Romano?' Russia asked.

Crap on a stick.

'Oh… um… I… just wanted to know…'

I instinctively jammed my finger against the dirty window of the even dirtier car, thank god just when (yet another) sign was passed by.

'What… what did that sign say?'

Russia made a happy, _freakishly fucked up_ noise of rejoice and giggled.

…

Fucking_ giggled_.

'Haha! Oh, Italy Romano, what nation do you think comes after my big sister's?~'

I shivered inwardly. '…i-it's _yours_, isn't it…'

'Yes, it is!'

Russia slapped himself on the knees, before _maniacally_ twisting and turning on a weird-looking device on the door of his side of the car, that made the old window of the door open up – bit by bit, the window slowly sinking away in the door itself while squeaking and _screeching_.

'Here!~ Just look for yourself, Italy Romano!'

He yanked me to his side of the car and almost _threw _me out of the car in his hurry to show me the – actually kind of plain – view outside.

'Holy shit!' I gasped, grabbing the sides of the window.

'Ha, I know! It's breathtaking!'

The white-haired nation laughed, flattered.

'Welcome, Italy Romano! Welcome to Russia!'


	30. Booty II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Over 800 reviews. _0_0 _Good god, that's a __**lot**__! You know, when I started this fic, I hadn't expected it to grow bigger than "This Dance". __**Ever. **__Sure, I was hoping to top it, but still – I was pleasantly surprised to find out people really, __**really**__ seemed to like "Bottoms-Up!", maybe even more than "This Dance"… Ah, it may seem a lot of ass-kissing I'm doing here (and it probably is!~), but you have to believe me: thanks to __**you**__ guys, I'm getting more and more confidence in myself as a writer, and, well… I can't thank you enough for that. Really. It helps. _^^

_A/n2: There were a lot of readers who wondered what nation Russia could be in love with… and only a few who were vaguely aware about what nation I was talking about…  
_XDDDD _Ah, just let me put it this way – if you know me and/or my fics well enough, you know __**exactly**__what nation is the apple of Russia's eye in my fic…  
__It's super cracky. Pffffrrrt. God. _*runs for the hills*

_A/n3: …FF is pissing me off. REALLY pissing me off. I mean, I couldn't login the past couple of days. And then I could. And then I couldn't. And then I could. WTF. What's next, FF? Ugh… _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXX:

_**It's Your Duty to Shake That Booty  
**__**(Lene Nystrom**__**)**_

…well.

Moscow. Let me tell you something about Moscow.

Moscow… Moscow was a mix of a lot of things, actually. Yeah, the city had a friendly atmosphere, but the city _also_ had a creepy air hanging around it – you could _feel it_. The streets weren't very crowded, but they weren't exactly _empty_, either. The weather wasn't bad, but I couldn't say it was _good_. Weird shit like that.

…to make a long story short, it was a very confusing city, _loaded_ with the most beautiful and unusual buildings I had ever seen, which gave the city a mysterious, fairytale-like… _glow_.

Now, I didn't like Russia, but _damn_, I pretty much _loved_ (the looks of) his capital city.

According to (a very enthusiastic/excited/_**goddamn scary**_) Russia, the city looked even more amazing at night. Then the lights of those fantastic churches, cathedrals, hotels, architectural miracles and other impressive buildings would shine all over Moscow, making the city seem like a "dream come true", if I had to believe the energetic Russian.

And I _did _believe him, since the city indeed was quite breathtaking.

And since there was a very tempting, red screwdriver lying just a _bit_ too close to him.

I'm just saying.

…

Anyway, Moscow looked really great. There wasn't a lot of nature in the city – well, what did I expect from a city with a population of 10,000,000 – but at least there _were_ a few parks that were about as wonderful as Vienna's. Russia also told me all about some "very important meeting places", like for example Red Square (which gave you a fantastic view on the St. Basil's Cathedral – _my fucking god, that thing was a work of motherfucking __**art!**_), or a weird fountain called "Friendship of All Nations" (what the_ hell_?), somewhere in the All-Russia Exhibition Centre… some place tourists liked to go to… yeah, whatever.

Still, when Lithuania drove us through the busy streets, I couldn't help but enjoy the view. God, fucking _spectacular_. Oh, I _wanted _that cathedral.

…

Anyway…

While watching the city's surroundings with awe, I noticed that even though there were quite a lot of people outside, there weren't as much Russians walking around as you'd expect from a huge-monster-city like this – maybe because it was weekend? Maybe because most Russians were probably at home, doing Russian things with their Russian kids or something around this time? Yeah, perhaps _that_ could explain the lack-of Russians.

In any case, the Russians who _were _roaming free on the streets right now, looked pretty normal. They didn't look a lot like… you know… like _Russia_. Just normal, regular people wandering around, some with cell-phones (lucky bastards), some with friends, some alone, and no-one had a bottle of vodka in his/her pocket so… yeah, nothing was remarkable creepy about them, actually.

Although they _did _talk rather loudly and quickly.

Oh well. I shrugged. All in all, Russians and Russia – the country – passed the "But Will I Be Able To Survive This *Insert Name Nation* -Shit?"-test.

'Oh, my screwdriver!~ _There_ you are! I was looking all over the place for you yesterday!~'

Russia grabbed the tool from the seat and laughed, poking the metal end of it into the back of Lithuania's _head_.

'Did you hide it, Lithuania?~ You did, didn't you? Oh, you silly, silly guy! _**Don't ever do that again.**_ Haha!~'

The Lithuanian made a choked-up, laughing noise, before sighing a deep, exhausted sigh.

…

Y-yeah, Russians were fine, just like the country itself.

Too bad the Russian _personification_ was completely _bonkers_, dammit.

**xXx**

After riding some touristic rounds around the huge city for a while, I was beginning to feel suffocated. Just how much longer was I supposed to sit inside of this… this driving _coffin_? Damn, I needed some air! Sunlight! Possibilities to move my legs, dammit!

Yup. _That's_ when I knew it was time to say something about it. So I gathered all of my courage and turned to the still very bouncy Russian – okay, just what the _hell_ did he eat for breakfast, a huge fucking sugar cube? Man, he drove me crazy!

…but I needed to be calm, collected and careful now. Breathe in… and out. In and out. Just like that. Yeah.

'Mister… mister Russia?' I squeaked, and immediately bit my tongue afterwards to punish myself for sounding like a freaking mouse.

_Ouch_! Not too _hard_, Lovino, you fucking _rodent_!

'Ha?'

Russia paused his "great" description of a work of Russian art that Lithuania was passing by to give me an odd, slightly displeased look.

'You know, Italy Romano? I like Italy Veneciano more than you. I always did. But yesterday, I kind of forgot _why _I liked him more than you for a while – since you and your brother are like twins and very much alike. But then I told myself, "Ha, silly Ivan!~ Italy Veneciano is the one who actually has _manners_!" and then I remembered again. Isn't that funny, Italy Romano?~'

A freaking _hoot_, dammit.

'Mister Russia…' I _foolishly _yet very _bravely _ignored his silent warning with shaky hands, gripping my knees, '…I-I only want to know if we're there yet. You know, the restaurant?... Are we—'

Russia blinked with his _huge_ eyes. 'Why do you want to know that? Are you in a hurry? Don't you want to talk to me nice and peacefully then, Italy Romano? We still have a lot of things to discuss about. Like my apparent "crush". And _your_ problems. I thought us talking about those things without any rush would be more important than your stupid impatience.'

I gulped, shaking my head. 'N-no, I didn't want to offend you, b-but we've been in the car for a long time and… and I want to stretch my legs, so could we please take a break for a minute or two? Please?'

The Russian man stared at me – five seconds, ten seconds? Beats me. But when he finally _seemed_ to open his mouth to answer me, light, happy, _ringing_ music started to play.

It… sounded like a ringtone of a _very _old mobile phone.

And yes, it actually turned out to be a very old mobile phone, since Russia all of a sudden took out an ancient, large, _blocky_ black cell phone from the insides of his long coat, confirming my suspicions.

…

Thing looked like my _fridge_, dammit.

Russia, getting almost heartwarmingly happy (yeah, _almost_) because of the noisy interruption, looked up from the enormous cell phone and grinned proudly at me.

'Ha, would you please excuse me for a minute, Italy Romano? Someone is calling me! _Me_!~'

Congratulations/probably a wrong number, I wanted to say – but managed to swallow those words and save my own ass, just in time. _Phew_.

Russia began to talk on the phone very enthusiastically, small blushes of excitement appearing on his face as he hopped up and down the seat.

Hm.

As he started talking Russian, I suddenly felt… kind of _bad_ for him. I mean, that poor bastard had to be _incredibly_ lonely if he reacted _this _giddily on a regular phone-call from God-knows-who. Did he… did he _really_ haven't got any friends? None?

…

Damn, that had to suck ass. I know I wasn't a sociable person either, but at least I had a hot/sweet/stupid boyfriend and at least _one _younger sibling who actually _cared _about me. And I guess I also had a friend/big sister in Belgium.

But Russia?

Russia didn't have a lover or friends. Yeah, he sometimes hangs out with England, America, France, China and some other stupid nations, but everybody knew they weren't friends of him. Come on, those countries were either really careful around him, or just plain _scared_ of him. And I tell you, that's _not_ a good foundation for a healthy friendship. Every fucking moron knew that.

He _did _have some (ex?)servants in Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia, but those three guys _clearly_ weren't his friends – not at _all_. Hell, just look at Lithuania. Dude was clenching the wheel so damn tight right now, his knuckles turned _white_. What the hell.

I know, Russia also had two sisters – a younger and an older one, but… the younger one was a freaking _**witch **_with _**razor sharp nails **_who wore a _deceivingly _cute dress and stalked him all over the world, and the older one was a sweet, big-busted airhead who cried all the time and spend most of her days sowing new buttons to her blouses and avoiding her only brother.

…

…god, I never really thought about it, but… all of this had to be very painful for Russia. Not having friends and all. Maybe I should cut the guy some slack or something. Because…

…well, it looked like he had more than enough to deal with already.

**xXx**

'Okay!~'

With a voice unnaturally high and hysterical, Russia all of a sudden put his fridge phone away to beam a freaky smile at me that made me cringe, hide the screwdriver and shuffle away from him as fast as possible.

The pale nation didn't pay attention to my weird actions and movements and swallowed heavily.

'Ha… I'm afraid there's a _slight_ change of plans, Italy Romano…'

Huh?

'A… change of plans?' I repeated.

His face was a lot sterner as he nodded. 'You see, I was planning to take you to the lovely restaurant _"Turandot"_, yes?'

'Yes?'

'Hm-hm. Yeah. That's not going to happen.'

'What? Why not?'

'Because my sweet, silly baby sister is sneaking around the building with a knife.'

I stared at him. 'W-with a—'

'Ha, that Belarus!~ She tends to get jealous so very easily, don't you agree?'

'But I'm only here to… _talk_ to you! Nothing more, nothing less! We're just… just _talking_!'

'That doesn't matter to her, you still crossed the line. So you're going to _pay_. Ha, annoying, isn't it? I know. It's also kind of flattering, yes, but still – _very_ annoying.'

'Mister Russia…' I gulped and pulled on his sleeve, '…be honest with me… did she… did she ever _kill_ somebody?'

The large, aloof nation bit his bottom lip, looking bored.

'Hmmmn. Yes. I think she did. She actually murdered Lithuania.'

Lithuania was visibly shocked and turned his head with a jolt. 'W-_what_?'

'She skinned him alive, did you know that, Italy Romano?'

'Did _not_!' Lithuania shrieked in protest.

'Yes… That poor, poor boy didn't stand a chance. That knife was _really _huge.' Russia continued, sighing sadly.

'Mister _Russia_!' The Lithuania sounded genuinely and _rightfully_ upset right now and almost crashed into a tree on the side of the road, '…I'm not dead! I'm right _here_!'

'Did you know him, Italy Romano? Such a caring, kind guy… like Spain, I guess, but without the eternal sunlighty-glow around him. Ha, I wish I knew were his dry, decayed body was…'

'Um. He's… he's right _there_, mister Russia. He's your driver.'

I hesitatingly pointed a finger at the completely flabbergasted Lithuanian behind the wheel, who had pulled over next to the Red Square and was ferociously touching his face and arms to check if he _really_ was… you know, _there_.

Russia chuckled amusedly. 'Oh, you're right!~ _There_ he is! How silly of me!~ I guess I must have confused him with someone else. Or maybe I just made all of this up. Ha, who knows?~ Haha!'

Lithuania stared at him.

And as for me, I was mentally cursing myself for not bringing my taser with me.

Holy _shit_.

**xXx**

A little while later, Russia and I were friggin' _speedwalking_ over Red Square, almost (yeah, _almost_) like best buds, as if the horrible dialogue and Russia's _Nietzsche_-like "Lithuania is dead"-declaration in the car hadn't happened at all.

Yeah. Russia and I had got out of the car and left poor, traumatized Lithuania behind (who was more than happy to be rid of that creepy madman), and now, we were looking for a "nice little bar", because Russia was thirsty _and _because he needed to hide himself for his sister somewhere.

'And since she doesn't like alcohol, I think a simple bar as a hiding place is a very good solution for all of our problems!~' Russia said happily, while taking huge giant-steps that I could barely keep up with.

'She does know _you _like it, though, so that theory of yours makes no fucking sense as she'll probably search all the bars in Moscow in order to find you…' I muttered, already out of breath.

Russia smiled down at me. 'Did you say something, Italy Romano?~'

Oh god. Oh god.

'N-no, not at all, just… just…'

Q-quick Lovino, think of a new subject to talk about, something he's interested in – not about vodka though, no, nothing about alcohol – think, think, _think_, before he'll hand you out personally to that she-devil-sister of his!

'…I-I was just wondering if… if you needed any more _tips_!'

The thrown-off Russian gave me a questionable look.

'Tips, Italy Romano?'

'You know, because you're in love with someone and stuff! You'd like that, right? Some tips and tricks?' I explained.

'Of course!~' Russia nodded, instantly smiling and giggling again, '…ha, that would be wonderful! As a romantic (part of a) country, you must know _everything_ about love and such!'

…

In spite of everything, I couldn't help but smile smugly at that. Yeah, in your _face_, France! Who's the country of love _now_, fuckface?

I coughed and shrugged. 'Well… I'm not saying I know _everything_ about the careful act of successful wooing, but, yeah… I do know a thing or two about it. Maybe even three things. Or four. Five.'

Russia looked at me in astonished admiration, mouth shaped in a little "o" as he clapped his hands – he tended to do that when excited, must be some sort of tic of his.

'Ha, I should have known I went to the right part of Italy!~ Can you give me some advice, then?~ Just a bit!' Russia tittered.

'That depends…' I hesitated and tapped my chin – very _thoughtfully_, of course, '…if I _do _give you some tips, you promise to stop talking about _your _problems – and focus on mine instead? You know, because that's… the whole _point_ of me, being here.'

The tall nation smiled calmly and cocked his head to the side.

'Ha, deal. But _only_ if you can assure me that you'll give me tips that are worth my time, Italy Romano.'

'I-I'll do my best.' I promised, mumbling.

His smile stayed the same.

'We'll see.'

**xXx**

A very _special _dialogue unfolded as Russia and I walked around Red Square and shamelessly ignored all of the colorful beauty around us.

It went something like this:

…

Me: 'First of all, mister Russia, have you approached this nation you like already?'

Russia: 'Ha, of course I have!'

Me: 'Okay, that's good. How did you approach him/her?'

Russia: 'Hmm? Oh, by following him/her to his/her House, bonking on the door non-stop and not leaving his/her doormat until the next morning, when I found out I had accidentally followed the wrong nation.'

Me (shaking): 'That's… that's…'

Russia ("friendly"): 'What?~'

Me (on guard): '…t-that… means you actually _haven't _approached the nation you're in love with yet. R-right?'

Russia: '…ha, I guess you're right, yes!'

Me: 'Then… it's time for you to do so. Okay, does the nation know about your feelings for him/her?'

Russia: 'Not at all. I only discovered today that I'm in love with him/her myself, you know, so how should he/she know?'

Me: 'Maybe… maybe you could start with a friendly conversation with the nation, somewhere cozy, safe.'

(And preferably a place with other nations around who can help out when things seem to turn ugly.)

Russia: 'A conversation… about what?'

Me: 'Well—'

Russia: 'I know, maybe I should start off with telling the nation he/she should become one with me.'

Me: 'Tell him/her that, and you've lost him/her – _forever_.'

Russia: '…not good?'

Me: 'No. Don't get me wrong, but… starting a – disturbing – conversation about yourself will probably only rub him/her the wrong way.'

Russia: 'But I _really_ think he/she should become one with me.'

Me (slightly freaked-out): 'Oh, I believe you. I believe you right away. Still, it's not a good… icebreaker. Choose to talk about… something that interests him/her. Or something that interests the both of you – that would be perfect.'

(In _hell_.)

Russia (after a short pause): 'Oh! Wait! Okay! I think know something the both of us like!~'

Me: 'What is it?'

Russia: 'Getting absolutely _dead_ _drunk_!~'

Me: '…okay, how… nice. Yeah. Great. Maybe you can take him/her to a bar, then. Buy him/her some drinks and stuff.'

(Hopefully without slipping something into the poor nation's drink.)

Russia (hopping up and down): 'That's a _great_ idea, Italy Romano! Ha, why haven't I ever thought of that? It's perfect! Simple, yet straightforward! Gallant, yet calculating!~'

(His twisted way of thinking scared me shitless, by the way.)

Me: '…so… you think it's worth a try?'

Russia: 'Yes, definitely! I'll just do that, next time I have the chance! Thank you very much for the wonderful tip!'

Me: 'Oh, it's nothi—'

Russia: 'Share some more tips with me. Please?'

Me: '…um…'

Russia: 'But it have to be good ones. _Really_ good ones. The best you can think of. You know, tips that are the key to a successful becoming-one with me. Yes?~'

Me: '…I'll… do my best?'

Russia (takes out a notebook – what the _hell_, did he always carry one of those with him): 'Yay!~ Go ahead then.'

**xXx**

…well.

As promised, I gave Russia some more dating advice.

But nothing special, just really, _really_ random, normal stuff, the basic stuff, stuff every good/average guy should know – so obviously, weird, creepy, freak-of-nature-Russia was completely unaware of it and was gullible enough to believe my advice was incredibly strongly recommended by lovers alllllll over the world… while it was actually extremely… cliché.

…

Maybe I was taking a risk here, yes, but come _on_, even though I indeed had more experience with love than Russia ever had, that didn't mean I all of a sudden was the freaking _Don_ _Juan_ of the world – hell, Antonio's my first fucking boyfriend, dammit, and he _didn't _fall in love with me because I was such a nice guy! Psssh. No, I just had a lot of _luck _in love, nothing more, nothing less.

B-but I couldn't tell Russia _that_, could I? No! No, that'd be fucking _suicide_!

That's why I tried to come up with reasonable romance-suggestions for the Russian psycho, suggestions like…

A: …do something nice for the person you like – out of the blue, just like that. Buy a bouquet. Give him/her some sweets. Or tomatoes. He/she will think you're a very surprising, fun guy to be around with, and the possibility of anything romantic to happen will increase!

Or…

B: …don't be too pushy. Give him/her some air and let him/her decide when to respond to your flirtations. They will appreciate that.

And, of course…

C: …"no" means "no". Not "yes", not "maybe", not even "I'll think about it", but _**no**_.

…and that was… pretty much all the most usable info I could think of right then and there.

…

I…

I have to confess, I _did_ think a bit about Antonio when I was giving (a _very_ focused) Russia advice.

Just… w-what was he doing right now? Did he miss me? Did he and Feliciano worry about me? Was he feeling okay? And if I wouldn't return home on time tonight, would he come over to pick me up? Would he bring his axe with him? Would he _use _it? On Russia?

…

That would be kind of cool, actually.

…

Well, in any case, I hoped, hoped with the whole of my heart, that this Russian adventure of mine would be over as soon as Russia had told me his damn advice already – which, hopefully, wouldn't take too long anymore.

But to be honest, I didn't have even the slightest idea when Russia was planning to listen to _my _problems instead of his own. We were just… walking around and around that annoying, yet pretty square, talking about… about… him and that stupid nation of his he was in love with – well, at least that proved he _really _was in love. That's something, I guess…

And then, all of a sudden, Russia stopped walking and stood still in front of a (surprisingly decent-looking) bar. It startled me and made me stand still as well, looking at the little, brown building in front of us. I tried to read the name, but it was no use – I couldn't read Russian.

'Here it is!' Russia said, a content smile plastered on his mug as he glanced at me, '…this is the bar I was looking for. Ha, they serve the best vodka here, like _Dovgan_, _Narodnaya_, _Rodnik_ and, of course, the standard vodka – my personal favorite!~'

'That's great,' I heard myself say, voice all weird and hoarse as the Russian vodka's spun through my head like merry-go-rounds.

The Russian laughed and beckoned me to follow him, one of his hands already gripping the iron doorknob.

'Come, Italy Romano! Come inside, yes? Then we'll talk about this problem of course, as promised!'

I jumped a bit when he called out to me like that – especially since I was standing _right next to him _– and nodded, automatically. 'Y-yeah, sure…'

Yeah. You know what they say: better late than never.

…

Or… or was it the other way around?

…oh, let's… let's just wait and see what happens, dammit…

I took a deep breath and followed Russia inside.

**XxX**

Russia immediately took a sip from his glass of vodka, as soon as the barkeeper had placed it on the tiny table between us in.

Then he took another sip.

And another one. And another one. Way to go, Russia. Yeah, you drink that vodka.

When his glass was about half empty, he stopped drinking and wiped his long sleeve over his mouth, looking at me strangely – probably because I wasn't, you know, pouring alcohol down my throat like he did, but was instead staring at a very childish-looking glass of milk while wondering why the _fuck_ I had ordered stupid _milk_. I mean, there wasn't _anything _badass about it and I hardly _ever_ drank milk. Yeah, sometimes, but not that much – and _certainly _not in creepy, distant countries like Russia.

…

Still, that really was milk, standing proudly on the table. For _me_. Since I had _ordered_ it myself.

I groaned softly and scowled, cheeks getting warmer again. Fucking _embarrassing_, dammit! Shit, I just _knew _the blonde lady behind the bar was laughing at me, just like those two hairy, bearded men. And really, why shouldn't they? I was about to drink _freaking milk, _for crying out loud! _Milk!_ God, just what the heck had possessed me when I had ordered that shit?

…

Probably fear. The _burning_ kind of fear. That kind of fear could give you some nasty spots in the armpit-area, I tell you. Yuck. And it was a bitch to wash it out of your clothes, too.

'So, Italy Romano!' Russia suddenly exclaimed, and sprayed tiny drops of vodka down on me in his unending and unexplainable happiness, '…ha, you like milk, yes?'

'No, I _don't_ like fucking milk, dammit.' I sourly said, feeling nauseous because of the smell of alcohol sticking on my face.

He seemed confused. Well, who wouldn't be.

'You don't like milk, Italy Romano? Then why did you let me order it for you?'

Because of the _fear_, asshole, I wanted to say, but didn't.

'I-I don't know, maybe because it was the only drink with a picture next to it.' I quickly made up an excuse – and a pretty _good_ one, too, if I may say so.

He chuckled. 'You could have asked me, Italy Romano!~'

'I didn't, though.'

'Yes, that was pretty stupid of you.'

I… wisely decided not to respond to that and made a face when I grabbed the glass milk (ugh, filled to the damn _brim_) and pulled it closer.

'A-anyway, Russia,' I muttered, still not taking a sip and sneaking a peak at the clock on the wall, '…you told me you… were going to help me now. R-right? Since I've given you advice and such?'

He smiled broadly (I hated it when he did that dammit) and nodded. 'Yes!~ That's true, you helped me a lot!'

'Can you… help me out, then?'

'Ha, probably!' Russia poked his glass vodka, but never took his eyes of me – and my glass of milk. 'What is it I can help you with, then?~'

'You…' I paused and bit the inside of my cheek, frowning. Then I sighed.

'You must have heard the rumors, right? About me, visiting nation after nation just because of this… this stupid problem I have?'

Russia was quiet for a while. But then he tilted his head, as if he wanted to say "maybe, maybe not".

'Ha, yes, I _did_ hear something, but I don't quite remember what it was anymore. And nobody wants to tell me. Not that I asked – as I said before, you're not _that _important – but still.'

I felt something that felt a lot like anger boiling up in me and had to force myself to keep the not-bothered-expression on my face intact. I quickly took some milk.

…funny taste.

…

Oh, whatever. Time to get down to _business_ already.

'Okay. The thing is… I want to top Antonio. In bed, I mean. But for some reason, I keep failing. I just can't seem to do it! So, I was wondering if his previous bedpartners could give me some advice on how to dominate him… a-and since you've shared the bed with Antonio as well, I… I'd like to know how you did it.'

…

Oh wow, I amazed myself! I barely stuttered anymore when I said this! Looks like I was getting used to embarrassing myself.

…

Yay. Glad _that _finally paid off.

The Russian thought about my words for a while and then emptied his glass in one huge gulp, giving a heartily "_aaaah!~_" when he slammed the glass back on the table.

'Haha!~ Oh, you're surprisingly forward, Italy Romano! I thought you were kind of timid, but I think I was wrong!'

I snorted out loud, before I could do anything to prevent it. 'Well, saying the same shameful things over and over again really helps getting rid of shyness.'

'Ha, if you say so. In my case, alcohol helps!'

'…really now.'

'Yes! In reality, I'm awfully shy. But drinking vodka helps me _expressing _myself.'

I shivered. 'That's wonderful.'

'It is!~ It really i—'

'Mister Russia, how did you top Antonio?'

…

Oh god, I _interrupted_ him. And on top of that, I interrupted him _with my annoyed voice_.

…

…but yeah, I really wanted to know it. _Now_. Because that way, I could go back to Antonio and order him to hug me, since I really, really needed an Antonio-hug right now. Also, I felt a bit light-headed.

Russia was a bit baffled by my hurried question – god, and it made him look so stupid – but recovered fast and already grinned just a minute later.

'Ha, there really isn't a lot to tell you, actually, Italy Romano. It was a one-night stand, so…'

'That doesn't matter to me. I just want to know how you managed to do him.'

Whoa, whoa! Who was this dude looking and sounding and drinking weird-tasting milk just like me, only more impatient? Damn, that guy had _balls_!

Russia's face started to change – only not into one of his usual maniacal smiles or irritated glares, but into something that looked like… like… worry?

'Italy Romano, are you feeling okay?'

'Just tell me how you screwed my stupid boyfriend already!' I snapped, looking into my glass of milk, realizing something, but a bit too late.

'Fine…' The Russian pouted – and guess what, it didn't even scare the crap out of me.

…huh… weird. What was going on here?

'After a meeting in Moscow had ended, just a couple of years ago, Spain and me decided to have a last, quick drink before he would go back to… um, Spain.' Russia started.

I made a noise of acknowledgement and kept staring into my empty – what, empty? – glass.

'I had wanted to invite more nations, but for some reason, nobody seemed to have time for it – nobody, but Spain. He was a bit depressed about something… I think he was confused about his feelings for somebody.'

…

This milk wasn't milk, was it?

'Ha, and I was feeling kind of down as well, so we tried to cheer ourselves up by drinking some beers, tequila, sangria and vodka – maybe a bit too much, haha…'

'This was nice milk. Only it wasn't milk… Was it? Well… anyways, I think I want some mor… more of it.'

Was it hot in here or what? I was sweating like a… something… that sweats a lot. Damn, I wish I had put on some shorts…

Russia gave me another concerned look, but continued.

'…in short, Spain and I got drunk… he a lot more than me, though, since he can't hold his liquor… and so, when he told me in his drunken state of mind he wanted to have sex, I agreed with him in my own drunken state of mind, and then we… um. You can think of the rest, right?'

…

Man, I wanted to answer him. I really did. I wanted to answer him and shout "rapist!" and "gimme some more milk!" at him, but… well, all of a sudden, the floor smacked into my face.

…

Ooooh, that was one dark… dark… fl…

…oor…

…

…

…


	31. Caboose II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Poor (and so painfully) naïve Lovi passed out in the last chapter because of some evil Russian milk – and he's way too far gone (well, mentally, that is) to let him narrate this chapter. So… I guess that means it's up to our favorite Spaniard to take it over from him for a while…_^^

_A/n2: Some readers asked me if I was planning to write another (and also kind of complementary) Spamano-fic after "Bottoms-Up!". And the answer is… yeah, I __**do**__ have some sort of an idea ready on the shelf here _*points at brain*_ for a third Spamano-fic. __**But**__… I'm not going to write that third fic immediately after I've finished "Bottoms-Up!". Nope, certainly not…  
__Ah, don't get me wrong, writing all of this is a lot of fun for me and it would be weird for me to stop doing it, but… MAN, it's EXHAUSTING! _OTL…  
_So, I think that I'll take a break from writing fanficion for a couple of months after I've ended this fic. Yup. Just like I did when I ended "This Dance". To recover and such. _XDDD

_A/n3: This is a very trippy chapter, especially the middle part. I'm just saying. I'll be hiding in the basement if you're looking for me._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXI:

_**Little Red Caboose  
**__**(Nursery Rhyme**__**)**_

Ah…

Lovino… Lovino was looking absolutely, positively, incredibly _beautiful_ when he walked down the aisle to me, in his puffy, frilly and wonderfully _pink~ _wedding dress, holding a little basket filled with tomatoes and grapes and blushing that adorable, sweet _blush _of his, as he glared at me.

'Fucking bastard.'

Naturally, I answered his glare with a loving look and felt my heart melt when the flushed face of my lovely lover and husband-to-be turned into an ever deeper shade of red.

It made me sigh deeply, watching him approaching me slowly but surely.

Oh, Lovi… just why, _why_ did you have to look so dang _cute!_ So cute! So, so very _cute!~ _I could just eat you up! I could just kiss you all day long! I could just pull you and your delightful body close to me and love you until the end of time! That would be great… ah, yes, it would be fantastic…

Ah! Looks like Lovino was almost here now, with me, so I eagerly accepted his hesitantly reached-out, gloved hand (ooh, up to his elbow!~) with my own ungloved one and stepped aside when the slightly embarrassed Italian took his place next to me, where he belonged, forever and ever and ever.

And ever!~

Francis, who was standing in front of us and doing a really, _really_ good job at being a priest, or pastor, or vicar, or… um, whoever does weddings and stuff, wiped a tear from his eye and quickly adjusted the single rose in front of his groin, before opening a tiny little book and winking at me and Lovino in turns.

'Dearly beloved, sweet maidens, humpable men, hunky Spaniards, whiny Italians and other pathetic losers I'd like to bang… we're gathered here to…'

Lovino made a strangled noise and his hand clutched mine more tightly, causing me to yelp in pain.

'What the _fuck_, Antonio?' he hissed, eyes narrowed and throwing daggers at me.

'I-is there something wrong, my love?' I asked, smiling nervously.

'Yes! There _is_!'

Lovino abruptly pointed his basket (ohhh, look at that, it even had a ribbon on the handle!~) to Francis – and he didn't even seem to mind that he send some tomatoes flying through the church as he did so.

'What the hell is the fuckface doing there? Is _he _going to marry us in this stupid dream of yours?' Lovino hollered.

I shrugged helplessly. 'Um…'

'Why, I _sure_ am, Roma!~' Francis interrupted me in a singsong-voice, playfully pelvic-thrusting in our direction. It actually made his rose shift a bit – just a bit, though.

Lovino looked horrified and shuddered. 'S-shut the fuck up, France! Nobody asked _you _something! And please, _please_ stop doing… w-_whatever_ you're doing, dammit!'

Francis _tssk'ed_, flipped his hair and shook his head, all with the arrogance of a thousand arrogant… um, people. Oh, _and_ all _without_ stopping the jolting movements of his hips.

'Never!~ You can't stop me! This… This is _who I am_, Roma!'

'…fuck you then.'

Lovino demonstratively turned his back on the French nation – a very bold move, if you ask me - and continued his ranting. At _me_.

'_Goddammit_, Antonio! I've married you in our— I-I mean, _your_ dreams a hundredth times already and _man_, have _I _seen disturbing shit already, _but! _I _don't_ remember _France _all of a sudden showing up as our priest in any of those at this part! _Ever_!'

'Ah, but Lovi, you could at least give him a chance to—'

'A _chance_? Fuck you! I could give him a _fucking fist_ in his _fucking French fuckface_!'

I had expected Francis to _le gasp!~ _or bite his handkerchief in silent frustration at that or something, but when I quickly looked over Lovi's puffy pink shoulder, I noticed the naked Frenchman had kind of… faded away… no, blended in with the background, as if someone had frozen him, as if somebody had turned out his spotlights, like he wasn't important for my dream anymore…

Which actually was very true.

…

Then I suppose it was a good thing! Ahahaha!~

Meanwhile, I tried to sooth the (still raging) Italian.

'Lovi, Lovi… calm down…'

I carefully took the basket away from him and grabbed the both of his hands with mine, lacing our fingers together. '…ah, Francis can be annoying, yes, but… in the end, does it really _matter_ who'd marry us?~'

He huffed a bit, but then looked at our hands and calmed down a bit.

'…I… I guess it doesn't matter who'd do it…'

'That's what I thought, yes!~' I smiled. '…ah, and besides, Lovi, I'll probably be marrying you tomorrow night again… and I'm pretty sure the priest will be somebody else by then.'

Lovino snorted, amusedly shook his head and raised his face, until our eyes met. The questioning glance he gave me turned out to be more serious than I had expected. Ah, how strange… I wondered why?

'…putting all of that crap aside, Antonio… what's up with _this_?'

He let go of one of my hands and tapped on his expanded, bulged-out stomach, cocking his head.

Oh.

…

That was one _huge_ pregnant tummy, alright.

…

A-ah… what can I say? I have always said I'd love to become a parent one day…

'Um.' I tugged on my collar.

'Nice. Really, _nice_,' Lovino snidely commented, '…god, you actually went and made me _pregnant_ in this dream, Antonio?'

'J-just a little bit…'

'A _little _bit?' Lovino gritted his teeth and also freed his other hand, grabbing his elegantly-swollen tummy and attempting to lift it up some more, '…shit, just _look_ at it, dammit! I'm so fucking pregnant, I bet I'm going to burst any minute now! Holy cow! Imagine that! There'd be bits of Italy all over the place!'

I couldn't help it – I started to laugh. Kind of loudly, too – I could hear my voice echoing through the halls of the large, spacious church.

Of course, Lovino wasn't pleased and pouted in protest, face heating up even more.

'Wh-what are you laughing about, you mean bastard! Do you think this is funny?'

'Oh no, not at all!~' I cooed, wrapping my arms around him and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, '…I think this is lovely. All of this. This dream, your dress, Francis' becoming one with the walls, your… pregnancy… ah, it's all so lovely and adorable…'

His face fell. 'Lovely? _Adorable_? Psssh. I'm a fat, fake, homosexual bride in an even gayer dress. That's not fucking _lovely_ – that's _disturbing._'

'You'd think so, right?~ Ah, you make the impossible possible, though!~'

'Shut up!'

'I'm serious, Lovi – this wedding-dream never ceases to please me. It keeps on getting better and better every single day… ah, it makes waiting on the right moment to propose to you for _real _so much better…'

I sighed and leant forwards, pressing my lips on his – gently, softly.

Lovino froze for a moment, but it wasn't before long I felt him respond, carefully, very, very carefully kissing me back, resting his hands on my chest and rubbing the front of my clean, white blouse with experimental, unsure movements.

I heard him sigh softly as I stroke his back and gently suckled his lower lip – and it made me hold him even tighter.

So cute, so nice, so sweet… ah, now, Lovi, if could just open that evil-spouting, yet also very _warm_ and _loving_ mouth of yours a bit, my love… just a bit… a little bit…

Right on cue, Lovino suddenly uttered a deep, low moan and slowly moved his shy arms farther up, simultaneously tilting his flustered face and pressing his slightly opened lips firmer on mine.

Perfect… oh, so _perfect_…

Making out with Lovino always was wonderful, even when it was just in a dream. It also _really_ didn't matter I had kissed him so many times already – it just never grew old to meet his lips, over and over again. And it was because of _him_, because of _Lovino_, since he never, _ever _seemed to kiss me in the same fashion.

Some examples…

He sometimes kissed me very sneakily, when I was pretending to be asleep late at night. I could always feel the gently warmth emitting from his cheeks whenever he did that…

He could also give me feverish, intense and open-mouthed kisses, kisses he usually only shared with me when he was absolutely _sure_ we were alone. Most of the time, these hot kisses lead to some passionate lovemaking, during which I made sure to make him gasp my name into my mouth a couple of times while kissing him silly…

Ah, and he loved tender kisses as well. He was a romantic man, after all… And he didn't know it, but whenever he shyly pulled me closer and quickly stole a few kisses from me while muttering to me that I should hug him, _love _him just a little bit more… God, he took my breath away. All of it.

If only he knew.

**oOo**

Kissing an imaginary Lovino was fantastic and I could definitely continue smooching him until the dream would come to an end (after which I'd just jump the still drowsily yet very willing and, more importantly, very _real_ Lovi next to me to continue where his dreamversion and I had ended), but this time, the making-out sadly enough didn't last very long.

Already after just a few sloppy kisses (and some occasional ass-grabs from my side~), Lovino pushed me away from him, wiped the saliva from his face and pulled his gloves a bit farther up, before giving me a glance that could have been one of a haughty, know-it-all-professor.

'But anyway,' he said, ridiculously businesslike when he roughly jerked my hands off his butt, '…kissing me senseless in your fucking dreams is all nice and shit, _**but**_**.** When are you actually going to pop the damn question already?'

I stared at him. 'Ah?'

'I'm getting impatient, you know. You're a fucking bastard for making me wait this long. I mean, you _know_ how much I want to marry you.' Lovino remarked.

'Yes, I know…' I sighed, sheepishly rubbing the back of my head, '…but I'm waiting on the right moment, my love… I want it to be very romantic!~'

Lovino rolled his eyes. 'Yeah? That's great. But I just want it to _happen_.'

'It _will_ happen!'

'When?'

'Ah, I think, if everything's going the way I want… next week.'

'Next week, huh? Hmm… I don't get it. Why wait for next week? What's so special about next week?'

I smiled, but shook my head. 'You'll find out next week, won't you?~'

'If you say so. Y-you better make it worth the wait, you bastard.' Lovino huffed, folding his arms and looking away from me.

'Speaking of things that better be worth the wait…' I frowned critically, gently turning his face back to mine again, '…what about _you_, Lovi? You and your silly trips around Europe to talk with nations that have slept with me in the past…'

Lovino flushed, but didn't struggle against the hand pressed to the side of his face. 'Wh-what _about_ my trips, dammit!'

'Well, don't you think you are kind of wasting your time? You've almost visited every country that has topped me already, but you're still quite clueless about how to do it yourself, aren't you…'

'…shit, I _knew_ that Hungarian bitch told you more than she should have…' Lovino grumbled.

I chuckled. 'What did you expect? It's Hungary, after all!~'

'That's no fucking excuse, dammit!' Lovino snarled, angrily slapping my hand from his face, '…she should have kept my mission a secret! She should hav—'

'LOVINO! VEE! LOVINO!'

Lovino and I jumped at the shrill, ultrasonic voice of his brother, who came running towards us while wearing nothing more than a _very_ revealing oversized shirt – which happened to be pink as well.

'…_Feliciano_…' Lovi growled, sounding genuinely pissed off as he pushed me away, '…you have exactly five seconds before I come out of bed, grab that vase – yes, that big one over there – and _smash_ _it_ across your _face_, you fucking basta—'

Startled by Lovi's treatment, Feliciano made a sudden fast-forward _dash_, grabbed his brother's shoulders and started to shake my poor lover like a _very _disgruntled mother would shake her unruly son if he refused to wake up.

…

Hey, that actually is a _very_ nice metaphor! And I made it up it all by myself! Oh wow!~ I should let everybody I know inform about this later!~ They'd be so proud of me!

…

But anyway, Feliciano and Lovino were bickering about something:

'Lovi! Vee! No! Now's not the time to threaten me with fragile furniture!'

'Wha- but- I-'

'You've got some explaining to do, big brother!'

…

Um.

Well, during their needlessly high-pitched shouting, I felt kind of left out, actually. Maybe even neglected. Maybe even annoyed. And it's _never_ good to feel left out/neglected/annoyed in your own wedding-day dream.

So I got slightly _more_ annoyed than just "annoyed" and wanted to pull Lovi back into my arms again, telling sweet, cute little Feli~ to please _**fuck the hell off**_ and leave me and his brother alone…

…but then all of a sudden, a whole herd of white, fanatically honking _Lada_ _112's_ crashed into the church.

'Vee!~ My flowerbeds! _**No!**_' Feliciano immediately cried out. He instinctively threw his hands up in the air and started to run around in circles.

…

…

…

That… that was kind of strange.

I could have sworn I didn't send any invitations to Russian cars!

**OoO**

Soon after the sudden intrusion of weird, old-fashioned cars, hell broke loose in the church – which is, if you think about it for a while, kind of unsettling.

The dozens of _Lada_ _112_-cars gleefully started running over Feli's beloved (and apparently _indoor_) flowerbeds, destroying some random helpless sculptures (all in the shape of wonderful, fat tomatoes) and crushing some small nations of which I had forgotten their names – but it was still very nice of them to have come to my and Lovino's wedding right before their timely deaths, oh yes – and… and…

…and this was all so very confusing for me! So confusing! Even for a dream! Just what on earth was happening around me and why, _why_ were there flowerbeds inside of the church!

Then I heard a cheerful, yet dark, hollow laugh echoing through the huge room, making everything around me shake and rumble and causing me to fall on the floor.

'SCARVES ARE HERE!' somebody (I think Feliciano) suddenly shouted.

'What?' I stammered, trying to get up – only to be smacked down instantly when an unnatural hysterical Austria bumped into me.

'THE SCARVES ARE INAPPROPRIATELY ATTACKING US!' he yelled, also falling on his back, but never stopping making running-movements in the air.

I stared bewilderedly at his fanatic leg-spinning for a short while, but then I looked around me once again. And indeed – there were all kinds of scarves flying around me.

Flying. Around me.

…

I _knew_ I shouldn't have eaten that spaghetti last night.

I desperately tried to get grip on the situation and got up again.

'Can… can somebody explain to me wha—'

'THEY'RE **AWESOME **AND EVERYWHERE!' a voice I recognized as Gilbert's screamed.

'WATCH IT! THEY'LL COVER OUR NECKS AND KEEP THEM NICE AND WARM!' a voice I recognized as Femke's shrieked.

'FREE SCARVES – OH _GOD_ _YES._' a voice I recognized as Femke's loathsome brother's exclaimed.

…

…

…ah…

Ahahahaha…

Maybe I should wake up already…

But not before saying goodbye to Lovino's dreamversion first.

I glanced around me, but… even though there were a lot of familiar faces acting like flipped-out madmen around me, I didn't see Lovino – or his lovely dress. I didn't see them anywhere, not even the slightest bits of pink…

Oh no. I swallowed. Imaginary Lovi or not, I didn't want to see him hurt or scared, I _never _wanted to see him hurt or scared, so I could better look for his as fast as I could, before something would happen to hi—'

'Wh-what the… LET GO OF ME, DAMMIT!'

I gasped and turned around, to where the noise came from.

And there he was, Lovino, floating some meters above the floor, firmly wrapped into a enormous, grey scarf, kicking his legs and bombarding the thing with all sorts of creatively-found cussing words. His face was looking pale and there were even tears streaming down his cheeks and chin, unknowingly _kicking_ my worried heart.

Then he noticed me and managed to reach his arms out to me.

'Antonio! ANTONIO! SAVE ME AND YOUR FUCKING UNBORN CHILD, YOU GODDAMN BASTARD!'

I wanted to do just that, but for some reason, I… I couldn't do _anything _anymore, my legs just wouldn't move. I… I seemed to be frozen rock solid!

'L-Lovino! LOVINO!' I helplessly shouted back at him, '…h-hold on! I'll save you! Probably! Don't worry!'

'_Probably_?' Lovino hissed.

'Hey, I'm working on it!'

The struggling Italian growled and opened his mouth to say/scream something evil to me, but then everything suddenly became dark and quiet around me… _too _dark and quiet…

'L-Lovi? Lovino?' I muttered weakly, losing all hope when the ruthless silence and darkness smacked me in the face, '…my… my love? Where are you?'

But there was nobody around me anymore that could answer me.

'Oh, I'm right here, _Antoine_!~'

…

Francis didn't count.

**oOo**

After seeing Lovino getting kidnapped and hearing Francis answering in Lovi's place, I decided to wake up. Enough is enough, after all.

You can imagine my immense _relief_ when I opened my eyes and discovered it indeed had all been just an extremely messed-up dream of mine, since I was lying in bed and there was not a naked Frenchman in sight.

Phew…

I sighed deeply and ran a shaky hand through my slick-with-sweat hair, staring up for a while to try to regain my senses a bit – I mean, a dream like _that_ **must** be able to leave at least a few eternal mental scars. Well, to certain people.

Ah, but as for me, I have had my share of scars – so I wasn't _that _easily scarred anymore. And that was a good thing, because Lovi always seemed to become quiet and concerned whenever he saw some of the light, white marks and stripes on my body…

'_D-does it hurt when I touch those… those things?'_

'_Ah, no, my love. Not anymore.'_

Lovino didn't like my scars, but he didn't hate them either. He always said he couldn't possibly hate them, since they were a part of me – and he couldn't hate _me_.

…

Ah. It was a good thing my scars were barely visible anymore these days…

…

Anyway…

I pushed myself upright with a groan, until I was sitting, stretching my somewhat aching body. Ouch, ouch…

Sure – I _did_ feel better than I did a few weeks ago, but that didn't mean I had fully beaten my sickness. Oh no. I could still feel a feverish heat running through my body and I still felt kind of weak. Also, my throat was a bit soar and my eyes stung…

Ugh. Being sick wasn't fun at all.

Oh well. I tried to cheer myself up a bit and glanced to the smaller person lying next to me, buried in sheets and pillows.

Ah, that's true… at least there was still Lovino around to take care for me! I smiled and carefully moved myself a bit closer to the bundle of sheets, repressing a squeal of joy when I heard him utter something inaudible.

Just look at him!~ He was just so very _huggable!_~ Gah, I could hardly _stand _it, that much cuteness and sweetness, here in bed with me, sleeping peacefully – even though he had been lying away from me from quite some distance…

I should pounce him!~ Yes! I should wake him up and pounce him and kiss him and hug him and rip his silly PJ's of his body and have slow, steamy sex with him and… and…

…

…

…wait.

Wait a minute.

Sleeping peacefully, even though had been lying away from me from a pretty big distance? But… Lovino couldn't sleep unless I held him close.

And… wasn't he supposed to be leaving early today, because of his planned visit to Russia? It was nothing for Lovi to oversleep… He was the only one who actually _used_ the alarm-clock every now and then, after all…

…

…

This… this _wasn't_ Lovi, right?

I frowned, stepped out of the bed and opened the curtains – opening them _just so _that a single ray of happy yet _hellishly_ _bright_ sunshine shone directly into the opening of the heap of sheets.

The heap started to move and whine.

'Vee… nooo… it's too early, Luddy…'

…vee? _Luddy_?

I blinked my eyes. 'Feli? That you?'

'Hmmnn…?'

The sheets began to move even more, then started to fall apart, and before I knew it, a sleepy Italian with closed eyes and a wide-open, yawning mouth appeared from underneath the pile. He rubbed his palms into his eyes and finally looked up at me, squinting his brown eyes – yes, _brown _eyes, completely brown eyes, not a hint of green in them whatsoever.

'Oh… vee, hello, big brother Toni… good-morning…'

I nodded, feeling pleased and confused to see him at the same time.

'Um… hi, Feliciano! How nice to see you!'

Feliciano gave me a feeble smile, absentmindedly scratching his neck.

'Vee… what time is it?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know, but… I think it's past lunchtime already…'

'Oh… then we should go downstairs and have something to eat. I'm so hungry! I could eat a whole _wurst_!'

He started giggling naughtily and untangled himself from the sheets, hopping out of bed.

When I finally got the joke (oh, ahahaha! Wurst! As in... Ha! Funny!~), I tried to laugh about it as well, but my face wouldn't co-operate.

'Feli, I don't want to be rude, but… what were you doing in Lovi's bed?' I heard myself ask the younger one of the two Italies with a nervous tone in my voice.

'Sleeping!~' Feli answered right away, grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor.

'Ah, yes, I know, but…' I looked over to the empty bed once again, '…but… you shouldn't crawl into your brother's bed without letting him know. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind it at all to let you sleep in that bed, but… ah, Lovino's my lover. And he would probably get really angry and wring our collective necks if he'd find out you slept in the same bed – _his _bed – as me, ahahahaha…'

Feli looked shocked and widened his eyes. 'Ooh, you're right! Vee… not to mention how mildly-yet-creepily-annoyed Ludwig would be if I told him!'

'Why did you do it, then?' I asked, also starting to pick my clothes up.

Feli made a quirky, pouting face and turned his eyes upwards, intensively studying the large lamp on the ceiling for a short while.

'Hmmm… I think because I was trying to hide myself from Russia!~'

I almost stopped putting on my shirt halfway and looked over my shoulder to him.

'Hide yourself from Russia? You mean he was _here_?'

'Yes…' Feliciano nodded and shivered, biting his upper-lip in almost the same cute fashion Lovi always did, '…vee, Russia was here… and according to Lovi, he was here for _him_. He told me he'd try to figure out what was going on and ordered me to keep an eye on you, and then he suddenly disappeared.'

I stared at him, forgetting to pull down my shirt.

'After a while I got kind of worried, and so, I got out of the super-special, bulletproof curtains and took a look outside – of course, together with my and Lovi's broomstick from down the hall, and then… I saw something _horrible_…' Feliciano said, no, _whispered_.

I could barely speak and/or breath anymore and encouraged him to keep on talking with quick, weird gestures of my hands and head.

'My flowerbeds…' Feli's eyes filled themselves with tears, '…t-they were brutally destroyed by that ugly _Lada_ _112_-thing… oh, and Lovi was nowhere to be seen, just like that scary Russian and his filthy car…'

…

Oh god. This… this was slowly turning out to be even worse than that twisted dream of mine…

'Lovi… Lovi was taken away by Russia?' I said panicky, swallowing some kind of lump in my throat.

Feliciano nodded, but then shook his head again, thinking about it some more.

'Vee… I'm not too sure he went with Russia against his own will, big brother Toni. You know how he is – he's so suspicious about most living and breathing things around him, he'd _never_ leave a safe place to a place remarkable _less_ save without letting you or me know. So if he _really_ had an uncomfortable feeling about getting into Russia's car, he would have told us.'

I furrowed my brows, mumbling. 'That's true, if he wouldn't trust the situation, Lovi would never all of a sudden go away without telling me…unless he didn't get the chance to tell me… ah, but that doesn't seem to be likely – Lovi can be _very_ loud if he wants to be… And besides, he probably has my cell phone with him, so… yeah…'

Feliciano sighed and seemed to be a bit more relieved – and to be honest, so was I.

'Vee… so… he _isn't_ kidnapped, big brother Toni?'

'I… I suspect he isn't, no. You see, he has to do his important mission, right – and I know he'd go to great lengths to accomplish said mission, no matter what. That's just how stubborn he is. Ah, that silly Lovi…'

'Yes, he's very silly!~' Feliciano laughed, his mood already getting better, '…vee… now that my mind is at ease again, how about some classic Italian lunch, big brother Toni?~'

'Okay!~' I grinned. His happiness was contagious!

'Yay! I'll go set the table in the garden!~'

'Ah, good idea! I'll be downstairs in a heartbeat – just have to put some more clothes on.'

'Alright!'

Feli left the room, bouncing a bit with every step he made.

As soon as Lovino's brother was out of sight, the giant grin of my face instantly faded away.

Ah… I knew Lovi would've warned me, or yelled out loud, or _ran_ _away _if he had been in a pinch… and I also knew he would give me a call if something wasn't right… and I also knew Lovino was old and wise enough to take care of himself…

…

…and yet, something was still telling me I should worry about him.

…

Okay, that's it – I'm _never _going to eat spaghetti anymore!

**OoO**

Just a minute or ten later, Feli and I were having lunch in his and Lovi's large backyard, in the cool, cozy shadow of the yellow porch roof. Ah, the weather was just lovely, yes, very lovely…

While an overenthusiastic Feliciano was busy eating as much handmade _Tramezzini's _as possible, I was just… just looking down into the big, light-blue bowl standing in front of me, filled with freshly washed tomatoes.

They looked mouthwatering good, but… well, I was still feeling a bit stressed because of my conflicted feelings about Lovi's absence, and… and that was the main reason why I just couldn't bring myself to eat as heartily as Lovino's cute, yet… um, somewhat gluttonous little brother. Too bad – those tomatoes looked absolutely delicious…

Ah… I groaned softly. Ugh… I wish I could stop worrying for a second. It was tiresome and a waste of my time, really…

Luckily enough, Feliciano noticed – and paused his scrunchtastic feast to beam a reassuring, _Tramezzini_-smudged smile at me.

'Hey hey, big brother Toni? Did I ever tell you how good your influence is on Lovino?~'

I looked up from the bowl with probably a very stupefied expression on my face.

'…my influence on Lovi?'

'Yes!~' Feliciano chirped, '…you know, ever since he started dating you, his mood has become better. He's also getting more pleasant to be around with and he's no longer the grumpy, lone wolf of Europe.'

My heart filled itself with warmth when I heard that and I chuckled, blushing.

'…is… is that true, Feli? Is Lovino getting more popular? Ah, that's great to know, yes, really great to know!~'

'I never said he's getting more popular, though…' Lovi's brother corrected me, '…I'm only saying he's no longer that_ un_popular anymore. He has become… vee… um… _nicer_. Softer. Gentler. He smiles more often. He shows his kinder side more and more to the countries around him.'

'Ah, I'm so glad he's finally showing that sweet, caring side of him…' I exhaled, smiling, '…because… you and I shouldn't be the _only_ ones who are aware of the kind Lovino. He deserves so much more attention…'

'Vee… he does, yes…'

We were quiet for a while. During this little break, Feli took a red cell phone out of his pocket and started playing a game. How funny - the phone actually looked kind of familiar to me... but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

…

Oh well!~

'So…' I started talking again, finally taking a tomato out of the bowl, '…how are you and Germany doing, huh?'

'U-um…' Feli's face seemed to lose some of its natural glow, even though he didn't look away from the screen of the cell phone. '…vee… well… we could be doing _better_, big brother Toni.'

…

Oh?

'…are you two having problems, then?' I carefully continued and took a bite out of the red vegetable in my hands.

Feli laughed and attempted to handwave my worries away.

'Oh, it's nothing serious, don't you worry, big brother Toni – we're just busy organizing all kinds of things for our wedding and all… and that's pretty difficult, you know? You have to do so many things, it's making me dizzy! And whenever I'm getting dizzy, I can't help Germany! So he got mad at me yesterday and asked – no, _pleaded_ me to go back to Italy for a while, so that he could peacefully do all of the preparations and stuff by himself… and so, I went.'

'Aha. So you didn't come here to check on me and Lovi at all!~' I playfully teased.

Feli winced a bit, grinning apologetically, but also very _slyly_ at me.

'…vee… okay, I admit it… your and Lovi's wellbeing wasn't the _main_ reason of my visit… but it _was_ one of the many _other_ important reasons! Reasons like… finally finding out if you have already proposed to him and asking Lovi if he has topped the crap out of you yet. Stuff like that!~ Vee!~'

'I-I see…' I muttered, quickly taking another bite of my juicy tomato and trying to hide the fact I was a bit caught off guard by his (scarily!) boldly spoken words, '…um, well, first of all, I'm planning to pop the question next week, on a very particular day.'

He looked up from his cell phone. 'Oh? What da—'

'That's a secret.' I smiled.

'Oooh, is it something romantic? Vee… it probably is, right?~' he persisted.

'Oh yes, I think it is!' I admitted excitedly, '…ah, and you know what the best part is?'

'The passionate sex that follows after?' Feli suggested, big brown eyes looking at me sweetly.

I gave him a strange glance back, but then nodded, since… well, since it probably was true.

'Um… yes. The sex will be wonderful, I'm sure. But I'm talking about something else. By proposing to him, and telling him once again he can ask me anything he want, and promising him that I'm willing to do _everything_ for him, no matter _what,_ I hope to give Lovi enough confidence to... _do _something already.'

Feliciano wasn't fully convinced of the successfulness of my plan and cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

'Hmmm, seems kind of complicated to me, vee… Big brother Toni, why don't you just _tell_ Lovi you've been aware of his plan since Hungary told you everything about it yesterday?'

…

I smiled at him impatiently.

'Ahahaha, Feli. You can ask such _stupid_ questions sometimes. In case you've forgotten, Lovino is doing his very best to try to find a way to top me at this very moment. And he has been doing this for _weeks_, never giving up, determined to find a way, his _own _way, to dominate me in bed. If I would tell him _now _that it's perfectly fine with me if he would want to top me, all of his visits would have been _useless_. How do you think he'd feel about _**that**_, Feli?'

Feli seemed to shrink a bit, his face getting paler. '…h-he would feel a bit pissed-off about it, maybe, but—'

'He'd feel _terrible_.' I snorted, narrowing my eyes when Lovi's brother seemed to disappear behind the cell phone. 'Just like you, Lovi is a prideful nation – he wants to do things by himself, even if it takes some more time and guts than planned. He and I both know the victory will only be sweeter and last longer that way. So… yes, I'm planning to play this weird little sexual game of his as long as he wants, Feli, and as long as Lovino hasn't got the courage to tell me to turn tables for a change, _**I'll **_be the one who "tops the crap" out of _**him**_.'

Feli gulped.

'Am I clear?~ And will you stop asking me and Lovi such needlessly embarrassing questions?~' I asked the Italian nation friendly.

'Y-yes… s-sorry, big brother Toni… so sorry…' he mumbled.

Hmm? Oh no. No, he wasn't getting away with his far from respectful behavior _this _easily.

'Sorry for what, Feli? For asking me arrogant questions about me and your brother's personal life like that or for playing around with your cell phone during a conversation?'

For a split second, I thought he was going to cry – and _maybe_ I was not-so-secretly _hoping_ that he would burst into tears, because the little cute Italian had been annoying me far too much to my liking, ever since I had found him lying next to me. But then, there was something that looked a lot like honest _surprise_ appearing on his face, and he shook his head eagerly.

'Oh, haha!~ No, this isn't _my_ cell phone, big brother Toni!~ I left my own at Luddy's place!'

'What?' I looked from him to the phone in his hands. '…but… that phone…'

Feliciano held up the cell phone. '_This_ phone? Oh, I found it in Lovi's pants!~'

'…wait, are you saying that you're… you're wearing _Lovino's_ pants right now?'

'Yup!~ Found them lying around on the floor! Vee… ah, my big brother is such a trendsetter, don't you agree? I'm so lucky for having the same sizes he has!'

…

I started to breath heavier, grabbing the side of the table with one hand and squeezing the tomato in the other hand to mush with a soft, desperate _pop_.

_That's_ why the red cell phone seemed to be familiar to me – it was _mine_.

Which meant Lovi was wearing other pants.

Which meant Lovi didn't have a cell phone with him.

Which meant Lovi could have been taken away _without _giving Russia his permission.

Or _**mine**_.

'B-big brother Toni?...' Feli stuttered, nervously shoving away from the table when he noticed some metaphorical dark clouds forming above my head.

I growled, abruptly standing up after wiping my tomato-stained hands to the tablecloth. Then I shot a glare at Feli, who was still stammering and stuttering something utterly useless.

'Feli. Shut the _fuck _up already and get into my car. _Now_.'

Lovino's brother gasped, but obeyed immediately.

Good.

Now, where did I put my axe…


	32. Ass II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Since it's kind of fun to write from Toni's POV, this chapter has him as narrator as well._^^ _He'll also hang around as the narrator next week (mostly because I __**rambled **__too much in this chapter, yet again), but after chapter 33? Back to Lovi!~_

_A/n2: Today, it's __**Queen's Day**__ (Koninginnedag) in the Netherlands!~ Queen's Day is a very important day of celebration in my country._^^_ The Queen gets out of her castle for a change and visits some selected cities, which will have prepared a huge party for her. Then she and her family will participate in some silly celebrations (ever seen adult princes playing tag with each other in public? I HAVE~) and the whole nation will be happyzzz and stuff. _XDDDD _Also, on this day, a lot of people take their trashy stuff out, put it on (preferably orange) blankets and try to sell it to others – and with SUCCESS! _0_0 _WHAT.  
__And beer. There will be a lot of beer. I hate beer, though. Yuck.  
__As for me, I'm free of work!~ I don't have to work on this day, so I'm going to the big city with a good friend of mine._^^ _Probably while being dressed-up in orange._ _Yay!_

_A/n3: Ahhh… I was planning to write something smutty from Toni's POV – but alas, I – yes – __**rambled.**__ Gah. Maybe I should rename myself "Lady Rambles-A-Lot"…_

…

_Maybe not._^^;;;  
_Well, here's hoping I will be able to write some cute porn in the next chapter. Root for me!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXII:

_**Back That Ass Up  
**__**(Juvenile**__**)**_

Ah, love.

Love was a fantastic, yet also so very strange phenomenon.

Love was good. I _loved_ love. It made people good and friendly to each other and, well, personally, I liked it a whole lot better to be busy with _love_ than with _hate_ – just think of it: there are probably a lot of cases in which love is proven to be better and _healthier_ than hate.

And one of my favorite examples concerning that matter is _sex._

Lovesex was way better than hatesex. Lovesex made you feel good about yourself and the special person you were having sex with. Lovesex was done out of love, and nothing more than that. Lovesex was _more_ than just fucking someone without feelings (except for the usual burning feelings of lust and horniness, of course) and, oh yes, making love, _real _love, actually made you a better person. I was sure about that.

Sometimes, usually after another great night of wonderful (love~)sex with Lovino, when I was blissfully holding his sweaty body in my arms and listened to his rushed, but content way of breathing in the few minutes before I'd be falling asleep myself, I found myself thinking I'd probably be even crazier than I already _was_ if I hadn't ever fallen in love.

…

Lovino… probably _taught_ _me_ how to make love. All by himself. And really, the only thing he had to do for that was… _accept_ me. _Love_ me. _Hold_ me, like when he did when I made love with him for the very first time. Ah, he probably thought I knew exactly what I was doing back then – well, I _didn't_. I was scared to death I might hurt him. I _absolutely_ didn't know what I was doing. Not at _all_.

Was I doing it right? Was I doing it wrong? Was Lovi feeling good, was he feeling scared? Surely he must have felt scared, right? He hadn't done anything like this ever before, and now, here I was, suddenly pushing my dick into him like it was the most normal thing to do, even though I _really_ didn't think so (I had been in his position often enough to know how weird/painful it was, after all), and he was supposed to lay back and accept/enjoy it?

Ridiculous. It didn't make any sense.

Ah, and so, I was sure he couldn't possibly enjoy something awkward like _this_. I was sure he'd hate _this_. I was sure he'd refuse to smile to me _ever_ _again_ if we had finished doing… _this_.

…

B-but I was wrong.

You see, I had forgotten that, unlike my previous bedpartners, Lovino actually really _cared_ about me, really _loved_ me, really _wanted to do this_ with me.

Allowing me to kiss him, kissing me back, softly muttering my name, wrapping his legs and arms around me and quietly gasping through gritted teeth that he loved me, _lovedmelovedmelovedme_, constantly, with a throaty voice that sounded so damn _honest_ and _convincing _as I carefully moved myself inside of him…

All of these obvious signs proved to me that he really _was_ enjoying this.

…

Naturally, I had been _stunned_. I could just hardly believe it. Was it _possible_ to have sex like that? Sex that pleased _both_ participants, just because they were _in_ _love_ with each other? Was that silly, strange thing called "love" the only ingredient needed for lovemaking that really _was _lovemaking?

Ah, well, that certainly was a whole new experience to me. A better experience than I had _ever_ had, maybe. It made me look at love and sex differently, more positive, I suppose…

Lovino had _always_ looked at love and sex as something positive, probably because he had never encountered as much troubles as I had in my life. To him, love and sex were closely connected: you fall in love with somebody, and when it's mutual and it feels _very_ right, you sleep with him/her. And have breakfast together. And _stay _together. And… things like that. Very fluffy and all – ah, it was such a _nice_ look on love and sex…

…but…

Before _I_ fell in love, I _never_ saw love and sex as things that were closely connected. Love was for the weak and sex was a very handy tool to get what you want – that's it. I didn't believe in mushy things as holding hands and smiling to each other and forgetting about everything around you just because that one person was walking around in the same room as you – it sounded so… _impossible_.

But then Lovi came into my life.

He firstly taught me – without being aware of it – what it was to have feelings of fatherly/brotherly love for someone else. True, I only treated _him_ (and sometimes also Femke) with this newfound feelings of affection, but still – I was progressing.

And then he grew older.

And older.

And more handsome.

Lovino became a _man_.

He was no longer a helpless, bratty child when I first visited him again, months after he had left me to go live with his brother. Oh no – like me, he was a grown-up now. And a very good-looking one, too!

…

So I kind of fell in love with him. Ahahaha… yes, that was a very slow, confusing period to me, since I didn't know what love was.

Really, I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what to think about these scary, weird feelings inside. I didn't like it – but I didn't _dis_like it either. The only thing I knew, was that everything I felt and saw only seemed to become happier, livelier, _better_ when that pouting Italian guy was around me.

…um.

Well!~ Then a lot of things happened. Things that I could tell about, but I really don't want to, so I won't. To make a long story short, after a _long_, _very _long time, I found out he loved me as well, joy all over, happiness, getting _down _on Austria's dancefloor, yadayada…

Ah… you get what I mean. We got together. Which was nice! Like our first time! Yes, very nice!~

…nice, yes…

…

I had actually _cried_.

…

Not out loud, of course… and certainly not when Lovino was still awake, but… the second I knew for sure the Italian was fast asleep, I started crying.

I had never "made love" before.

_That_ night was my first time. No matter what others may say.

And if I had known it would be so _good, _so _perfect_, so _intimate _years ago…

…

…then I would've probably never had sex for other reasons than love.

…

**oOo**

…

Ahaha…

So, in a way, you _could_ say that my love for Lovino, and his romantic views on love and sex, had made me a kinder, more honest and more reasonable man.

…

Ah, please don't laugh. I'm serious.

No, really. I didn't get angry as quickly as some other nations anymore, for example. I didn't like violence – well, not as much as I used to like it, at least – and I wanted to solve every misunderstanding with talking first, before I would take my war-axe out of the shelter. Nowadays, I wasn't focused on wars and other bloody things at _all_ – oh no, I had other things to worry about, like my (and my Portuguese brother's) economy. Fighting? Nope – I didn't feel like it.

Anymore.

See?~ Reasonable. Very reasonable. That's what I am, that's what _Spain_ is.

**But**.

Don't go steal the person who made me more _human_, more _Antonio_ than any living being had ever been able to so far.

Just _don't_.

I'm not saying Lovino is mine, but if you just kidnap him like that, _without_ my – I mean, Lovi's permission…

…ah, well, then there is a _slight_ possibility of me, following you around to even the end of the world with my faithful axe, just to hack you to pieces because you've taken him away from me.

Ahahaha. You wouldn't want that, would you?~

**OoO**

After I had found the axe I once gave to Lovino for his 144th birthday a couple of years ago (I had forgotten that my own war-axe was still in Spain, so I had to pick another one), I went to my car, stepped in, slammed the door and tossed the giant – yet still significant smaller than my own – axe on the backseat.

_Thud._

'O-ouch, my head!' I heard Feliciano whine immediately.

I started the car without looking over my shoulder to check if he was okay, but a little, cranky voice in the back of my head that actually sounded a lot like Lovi's told me that an apology would probably be appropriate now. And that I was a fucking bastard.

…

So I apologized.

'Sorry, Feli. Did I hurt you?'

He sounded a bit agitated when he answered me. 'Vee… oh, just a bit – I guess I should be glad the blade didn't hit me, haha…'

'You _should_.' I agreed.

'Anyway, b-big brother Toni…' Feliciano quickly continued, obviously ignoring my snide remark, '…what… vee… what are you going to do with this axe?'

…

I wondered what I should answer on that question, so I firstly drove away from the House of both Italies (maybe a bit too rough – Feli actually crashed quite harshly into the passenger's seat in front of him when _I put the pedal to the metal_) before replying.

'What I'm going to do with that axe? Ah, I don't know. But something tells me I shouldn't be leaving for Russia _without _taking anything sharp and pointy with me.'

'V-vee… are you… going to fight with him?' Feli stammered, and when I looked into the rear-view mirror, I could see a red mark appearing on his forehead.

…

O-oh.

Angry or not, I should be nicer to little Feliciano – all of this wasn't _his_ fault, after all…

'I… no, don't want to fight with Russia, I just want to take Lovino back. And… um, Feli?'

I slowed down a little and looked at him in concern for a second.

'…you _sure _you are alright?'

He smiled a bit. 'Yeah, I'm okay.'

'Really?'

His smile became bigger. 'Vee, yes! Don't worry! I'm tougher than I look like!~'

'Ah, great to know!' I said, turning my head back, '…in that case, mind if I step on the gas just a little bit more?'

I could just _hear_ him getting a face as white as a sheet.

'V-vee… b-big brother Toni… I like driving at full speed as much as you – apparently – do, b-but I-I don't know if you're even allowed to drive _that_ fa—'

I had to laugh. 'Oh no, probably not, no. But that wasn't my question, was it?~'

'…n-no…' Feli squeaked.

'So, do you mind?~'

'…just… just a minute…'

Feli shivered, took a deep breath and quickly fastened his seatbelt, placing Lovi's axe safely on the floor of the car. Then he gripped the seatbelt around his chest extra tightly and gave me a nod:

'Okay… um… yeah, go like lightning, big brother Toni! V-v-vee…'

And I did just that.

**oOo**

Ah.

I wish I could say more about the beautiful landscape when I drove (_**at full speed**_) to Russia.

Yes, I wish I could say more about the wonders of all of the lands that Feli and I crossed, about the fantastic weather, about the nice people and the cute children we passed/_**raced**_ by, about the greatness of this whole trip – I mean, Feli and I hardly did anything together anymore, so this little, _surprise!~_ road trip sure was a fun turn of events…

…

But I was in a hurry.

I had no time to pay attention to all of the happenings around me.

I had no time to talk about it like people might have expected from me.

Also, Feliciano wasn't very talkative for some reason.

And, well, I just didn't _feel_ like it.

…

…

Sorry.

**OoO**

I think it was about… hmmm… six o'clock in the evening when Feliciano and I arrived in Moscow and stopped the car next to the legendary, big, can't-miss-it-not-even-when-you-try Red Square.

It was already beginning to become kind of dusky: the streets of the big city were pretty much empty and the orangey-reddish colors of the setting sun were absolutely _beautiful_ as it slowly disappeared behind some really cool-looking buildings that made me think of… um… bubblegum! Yes, bubblegum! Or ice cones with pretty, huge humps of icecream in the most wonderful colors!~

…

Ah…

Lovi… must have seen those colors and figures as well when he got here. Knowing him, and his love for all that was weird, artsy and beautiful, he must have enjoyed the view greatly. He probably also had way better words for the greatness around me than me and my stupid comments on how – well, for example, that one cathedral over there – looked a lot like a huge, amusement-park-meets-church-like… thingy, with a bunch of bubblegum… thingies attached on top of it.

…

…but maybe… maybe it really _was _a huge, amusement-park-meets-church-like thingy with a bunch of bubblegum thingies attached on top of it!

Ooh!~

…

Ahaha. Lovi would most-likely attack me with a shovel if I ever told him I'm silly like this.

Although he probably knows, anyway. Oh well…

I smiled a bit as I tried to get out of the car – and smacked the door against a very stupidly placed plant-trough, right back to me and my hand, which caused my poor, helpless fingers to make a severe, unpleasant _crack_ing sound.

_Bam!_

_Crack._

Ah, just like whenever you're stretching yourself a bit too enthusiastically, and your body begins to crack all over! Just like that – only with a lot more _pain._

I inhaled sharply through my nose, stared at my fingers, swallowed a few very bad, _**bad **_expletives and screwed my eyes shut, all in less than a second or two.

God…

...oh god, seriously, this hurt even more than that one time in the trenches of Germany, when Gilbert and Francis (who for some reason were mad at each other almost every day back then) wanted to play catch with me during WW I and threw a grenade at me out of the blue. Man, did they have a good laugh when it blew up in my face!

As for me and the effectively killed soldier next to me – not so much.

Although it _was _kind of funny.

…

Now that I think of it, what was I even _doing_ there in WW I?

'Big brother Toni?'

Feliciano woke me up from my old memories by sticking his head and a part of Lovi's hardly-ever-used axe through the small window of my car – _apparently_, he had already stepped out and _apparently_, there weren't any annoying plant-troughs standing in front of _his_ door.

Ah, so unfair.

'What is it, Feli?' I grinned with gritted teeth and friendly yet persistently pushed his bouncy head out of the way.

'Vee…' Feli gave me an anxious look as he watched me _haul _myself out of my vehicle, '…I don't want to sound pessimistic, big brother Toni, but… but Moscow is _huge_! _Really_ huge!'

'It is, yes. So?' I muttered, locking (and glaring at) my car as soon as I had gotten out.

Feli's lower lip started to tremble and his voice sounded shaky when he spoke again.

'H-how… how are we _ever_ going to find Lovino? Vee, we don't even know where to _begin_! This is such a big city, big brother Toni, and even worse – it's a _foreign_ one! I- don't know anything about Russia or Moscow… Lovi could be anywhere… maybe we'll never find him!'

I looked around the Red Square. 'Well, maybe we could—'

'We should have thought this _through_, big brother Toni!' Feli whined/interrupted dramatically, leaning heavily on the axe for support, '…vee, it's all very cool and chivalrous and brave of you to save my big brother from Russia, but what are we going to do _now_? Do you have any clue, _any_ clue at all, big brother Toni, how we're going to continue our search for Lovi?'

'Um… yes.'

'No! No, of _course _you don't, of _course _you… wait, did you say _yes_?'

'We could ask Lithuania for help.'

Feliciano blinked his eyes. '…Lithuania?'

'Over there.'

I pointed to the lone, fragile, sleeping figure on a bench, engulfed by the weakened rays of the sun, just a couple of plant-troughs apart from us.

'Oh. It's Lithuania.' Feli said.

'It's him, alright!' I nodded, immediately snatching away the axe from Feliciano and walking towards the Lithuanian on the bench with quick steps, '…ah, great! I bet he knows where Russia and Lovi could be!'

Feliciano – a bit startled by the sudden axe-removal – had to increase his walking quite a bit to keep up with me.

'Vee… you really think so?'

'Oh yes, definitely! Why else would he be in Russia?'

'…for fun?'

'…you think he'd visit Russia for _fun_?' I frowned at him. 'Ah, that's really weird of you to think.'

He giggled, in spite of the fact he was already out of breath. 'Vee, haha!~ Not half as weird as you and your crazy tendencies to solve your problems by swinging an axe around!'

'It works most of the time, though.' I smiled.

He smiled right back at me, but it wasn't a very convincing smile.

I wondered why?

**oOo**

When Feli and I had approached the Lithuanian some more, we tried to take a closer look at his paled face.

Oh, the poor guy looked so _drained_… so _exhausted_...

Hmm…

Ah, I don't know why, but something told me that Lithuania most have gone through a lot, 'cause I didn't think he was the kind of guy who'd fall asleep on a random wooden bench of the famous and very public Red Square…

'Maybe we should let him sleep, big brother Toni…' Feliciano whispered, pulling my sleeve when I stood still in front of Lithuania and cast a shadow on his whole being.

I furrowed my brows, a bit irritated by this question.

'Maybe, yes. Or we could just, you know, _wake him up_. Like we had planned.'

Feliciano pouted. 'B-but he's sleeping so peacefully! And I bet he hasn't had a good night's sleep in ages! Vee…'

'So? Then he should just tell his lover to hug him more often and hold him really close at night.'

'…why?'

'Ah…' I flushed when I realized what I had said and rubbed the back of my neck, '…ahaha, o-oh, it's nothing, just forget what I said…'

Feliciano's eyes became a tad brighter.

'You mean you hug and hold Lovi at night like that?~'

'…a-ah… well… not _only_ at night…' I sheepishly admitted – there was no use in denying it anymore anyway now.

'Ooooh! Vee!' Feli laughed, hopped up and down and clapped his hands excitedly, '…awwww!~ That's so _cute_, big brother Toni!~ You and Lovi are so so so cute together!~'

I grinned even broader than he did!

'Ahahaha! You… you really think so?~'

'Sure! Your sexlife must be great!~'

My grin faded a little. '…ah.'

'Vee… yeah, good job on that!~'

'Um, you…'

'Hey hey, maybe you could tape Lovino and yourself whenever you're… um, _getting_ _it_ _on_ someday, you know? I bet Luddy and I could learn a thing or two from you!'

I was still smiling, but the smile was beginning to freeze up.

'Like… like when he wants to ride you or something! Just how does he safely prepare himself on that? Vee, I don't know what's the size of _yours_, but Luddy's _Baumkuchen_ is _really_—'

'Please, I _beg_ you not to end that sentence…'

…oh?

We looked up in surprise and saw a very much freaked-out Lithuania, who was also very awake and staring at us with somewhat disgusted, somewhat confused eyes.

'Oh, hi Lithuania!~' Feliciano waved at him.

Lithuania didn't wave back. Instead, he turned to me and gave me a desperate look.

'I-I don't know _what _I did wrong to you two to deserve/be awakened by such an awful, image-heavy explanation to your no-doubt _very _adventurous sexual escapades, but please, for all that's good in this world – _just stop_. I'll do anything.'

Lovino's little brother clearly didn't really understand what the shivering nation was talking about and raised an eyebrow, looking worried.

'…vee… what are you talking about, Lithuania? We're only—'

Instinctively, because I sensed he was going to say something stupid again, I poked him out of the way. With my foot.

…

Thought I'd poke him out of the way with my axe, right? Ahaha! Don't be so silly! I'd poke right through him!~ Just imagine the mess I'd have to clean up!~

'Ah, you'll do _anything_, Lithuania?~' I smiled, cheerfully.

Lithuania's eyes were very weary when they met mine and he moved around uncomfortably on the hard bench, hands folded tightly.

'…y-yes, I'll do anything to get you to leave me in peace. For Pete's sake, do you even know what kind of day I have had today? God…'

I nodded patiently. 'You must have had a very rough day – and I'm sorry for that. Feli and I will leave you alone as soon as possible, just like you want us to, but only if you could tell me where to find Russia and Lovino.'

'Lovino?' Lithuania eyed me weirdly.

'Um… Romano. Italy Romano. Southern half of Italy.' I specified.

Feliciano grinned. 'Vee, my big brother!'

'Ooh.' Lithuania slowly said. 'You mean mister Romano, right? Aha… You two are looking for him?'

'Yes. He probably is with Russia, so we're looking for him as well. Do you have any idea where he could be?' I asked, twirling around with Lovi's axe for a bit.

'Why do you want to know that?' Lithuania curtly replied.

I smiled, but it actually looked more like a scowl.

'Ah, because I want to take the Southern half of Italy back to where he belongs.'

That impressed the romantic Lithuanian, and he tilted his head.

'Oh…'

'Which is Spain.' I concluded.

'Oh.'

Lithuania now frowned.

Feli rolled his eyes, but kept silent.

'So… you're saying you've come here to rescue mister Romano?' The Lithuanian summed it all up, wisely choosing to ignore my comment.

I beamed a bright smile at him. 'Yes!~ Because I'd do anything to save my Lovi Princess!'

For the first time, I think I saw something like a smile flashing over Lithuania's white face – and he even chuckled.

'Okay then, I'll tell you where I think he and mister Russia went, mister Spain.'

**oOo**

And so, Lithuania gave me and Feliciano the name of a certain bar, which we carefully locked into our brains before walking off, on our way to said bar!~

…um… but…

…we had to go back to Lithuania a couple of times since it took a while before we were able to remember the eccentric name of the bar, though: it sounded an awful lot like the word _Polaksjahahajja7712*&$$_, which actually wasn't even a word at all.

I think.

So, ultimately, a _very_ fed-up Lithuania wrote the name of the Russian bar on Feliciano's arm – there was nothing better around to write on – with some pink marker and then kindly told us to _piss_ _the_ _hell_ _off_, only a bit more polite and without using the actual words, but I'm sure he wanted to.

However, it was very nice of him to help us out by giving us waling instructions and writing out the bar's name! Certainly!

…

It still said _Polaksjahahajja7712*&$$, _though.

**oOo**

Fortunately, everything went a lot smoother after the conversation with Lithuania had been ended – thank _God_.

His instructions – Lithuania's, not God's – were easy to follow, and it didn't seem like the bar Russia and Lovi were at was far away from the Red Square, so after only a minute or ten, Feli and I were faced with a small, brown, but not necessarily _bad_ looking café.

There was a huge, wooden sign hanging above the door that said _Polaksjahahajja7712*&$$ _and I have never been so happy in my life before to read a sign I couldn't read at all.

Ah, such a wonderful feeling!~

'Well!~' I said, comparing the large, black word on the heavy, wooden thing to the cute pink one on Feli's arm one last time before uttering a sigh that was deeper than I thought it would be, '…looks like we made it, Feliciano!'

'So… they're somewhere around here?' Feliciano muttered quietly, rolling down his sleeve and shuddering as he looked around in the as good as empty street we were standing in. The sun was gone by now, and the only light that could be seen in the narrow, darkened street were the lights of the few streetlights that flickered a bit.

I actually got a bit cold and rubbed my arms.

'Ah, I wish I had put on something with long sleeves before leaving…'

'B-big brother Toni, I'm scared…' Feli stuttered, sneaking behind me and grabbing a firm hold of my shirt, '…w-why would Lovino be in a place like… like _this_? V-vee… if only Ludwig was here…'

I laughed and patted his head with my free hand to sooth him, but I actually was just as scared as him – I mean, my hand was trembling _madly_ when it landed on Feli's hair, so that should say it all.

Only in my case, I wasn't scared for my _own_ safety, but for that of my precious Lovi.

Lovino. I literally felt my smile falling off my face. Ah, my poor, poor Lovino. Just like his younger brother, he wasn't a hero at all in situations like this. I knew he wasn't. I bet he was somewhere in that bar, sitting in a greasy corner or hiding underneath a dirty table, probably while crying or holding his hands on his ears and hoping for somebody, _anybody_ to get him out of the nastiness…

He was so sensible… so very sensible… so incredible—

_Bang!_

_Clatter!_

_CRASH!_

All of a sudden, a chair came flying through the big window, sending shatters all over the place and making me and Feliciano yelp and dive away behind a dirty trashcan.

'What was that! What was that!' Lovino's brother shrieked. He kept shivering for a while, but when no other chairs followed the first one, he already got bored (must be an Italian thing) and let go of my shirt to look down and gasp in horror.

'Vee! Big brother Toni! It's horrible! Look at my German button-down shirt! _Ew_! It has icky green and yellow smudges all over it and _oooooh_, Luddy's going to _kill_ me if I go back to—'

'Shush, Feli, be quiet for a second!' I hissed back at him, carefully taking a look from behind the trashcan – which could be dangerous, yes, but I should have _sworn_ I had heard Lovi's voice, right before the window was shattered…

'Oh ye-yeah? WELL, FUC-FUCK _YOU_, YO-YOU FUCKING _BITCH_!' an angry and awfully familiar voice then suddenly screamed, echoing through the streets.

…

I…

I knew only one male person with that whiny kind of tone in his voice.

…

…

… it couldn't be him though… could it?

A lot of noises were coming out of the bar now, noises that I couldn't understand and that consisted of a lot of loudly spoken or shouted Russian words that sounded menacing and bad and… and just very _mean_.

I slowly scrambled up from the ground, feeling worried as well as nauseous. What the hell was going on in that bar?

'B-big brother Toni?' Feliciano asked, peeking from behind the trash as well, '…w-what are you doing? C-come back, before they'll see you!'

I gave him a nervous look. 'Feli, I think—'

I was instantly interrupted by a mocking, _lisping_ kind of speech.

'Ooooh, tha-that's a biiiiiig knife you have the-there! Ye-yeah, you better pu-put that away, bef-before you'll – OUCH! The HELL, you FUCKING CUT ME!'

I widened my eyes, my hands grasping my axe as tightly as I could.

'OW! N-now look what you did, yo-you stupid… white-haired… young grandma! You made me rui-ruin Anto… Antonibo… um… whatshisface's… stupid shirt… Damn, do you have any idea ho-how hard it is to wash out bloo-bloodstains? You- HEY! FUCK OFF!'

Oh god.

Oh god.

'L-Lovino…' Feliciano stammered, clasping his hand in front of his mouth and shaking his head. He must have been scared Lovi was getting… getting…

Enough. _Enough _of this already.

'Stay here, Feliciano,' I abruptly ordered Lovino's brother with a stern glare, '…I'm going to get him out. Don't do _anything_.'

'O-okay…' Feli obeyed.

'I'll be right back.'

'O-okay…'

'Bye.'

'O-okay…'

And after a last nod to the pale Italian, I went in.

**oOo**

When I got inside the bar, I was immediately greeted with the stench of loads and loads beer, vodka and probably all other kinds of alcohol there could possibly be – the unbelievable smell just hit me in the face like a large, hard, grubby hand.

The air, filled with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes, vapors of overwhelming liquor and everything _else _that wasn't supposed to be for inhaling, made my eyes tear and my throat feel as dry as a piece of sandpaper. It was terrible, really.

In spite of that, I was still very much aware of _everything_ around me:

The devastated interior of the café, full of turned tables and smashed glasses.

The panicky-looking bartender behind the bar, exchanging desperate looks with some other girls that were standing with her.

The suspicious wet milk-stains on the floor.

(…it _was_ milk, right?)

The huge crowd of people standing in front of a billiard table, roaring and howling all kinds of things to the two persons on top of it.

And last but not least, the two persons on top of the billiard table.

A very disgruntled, female Belarusian and a very furious Italian.

Lovino. Lovino and… and _Belarus_?

…

Where did _she_ get from?

…

Nevertheless, she was up to no good.

For some reason, the stoic Belarus was chasing Lovino around on the large, once-green billiard table with a small, weird yet sharp knife – a knife that already had some stains on it that made me feel cold and warm at the same time.

Crazily enough, Lovi _**wasn't**_ running away from her as I had kind of expected him to do, knowing his nature. No, instead, he was looking more _annoyed_ than scared and cussed the girl out without hesitating, slapping at the knife with his bare hands. He was wounded – there was a large scratch across his left cheek and there were little bits of blood seeping through the fabric of his – no, _my_ – shirt, showing he also had these cuts on other places than his face.

On the other hand, Belarus wasn't exactly unharmed either – her platinum-colored hair was ruffled and she limped a bit.

Oh, and then I suddenly saw Russia, standing between some bearded men and looking up to the swaying Lovino with admiration.

'Ha, you're amazing, Italy Romano! But watch out for that devious potato-peeler of hers!'

…

…

I don't think I had _ever _seen something like this before, so I just felt myself paralyze on the spot.

What the…? Was I still asleep? Should I pinch myself in the butt or something? Just where in the world had I gotten – no, had _Lovino_ gotten himself into?

'Ouch!' said Italian then cried out, making me realize all of this was real, and fell down on the billiard table, now with a large piece of his – no, _mine_ shirt missing. He looked just like Feli did just a few minutes ago when he saw it and grunted, staring at the looming girl above him.

'OH MY GOD. Look at this! Damn! Yo-you crazy bitch! I ho-hope you're good at sewing, 'cause my-my boyfriend is _sooooo_ gonna kick your ass if he finds out yo-you ripped his favorite shirt!'

Belarus just lifted her arm and leaned forwards.

And then I decided it was the perfect time to _plunge_ my axe into the billiard table, _right_ in-between the little space that was separating the Belarusian girl and Lovino from each other.

_**Whack**__!_

Just like that.

The shock the axe caused made Belarus fall down on her behind and drop the ridiculous knife – and it was enough to shut up the drunken, mostly-male audience around the table as well.

Ah, it even became downright _quiet_ in the café. How curious.

Some Russian men around me already started to stumble and scoot away from me as I easily lifted the axe out of the billiard table again and swung it over my shoulder, giving a calm smile at the disturbingly cute-looking, pouting Belarus on the green mat – or whatever that table-covering thing was called, ahaha.

'I'll take it over from here, Belarus – like it or not.' I informed her.

She just scowled, but remained silent.

'Hah…'

Lovino, looking _extremely_ exhausted and dangerously close to falling face-first from the table, chuckled softly, leaning on me when I quickly wrapped an arm around his waist.

'…tol-told you so, _bitch_.'


	33. Butt II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I-I have over 1,000 reviews. You wonderful people actually gave me over _**1,000 **_reviews. That's more than all of the reviews I've ever received for all of my other fics combined. And the anonymous reviewer LUka was the one who gave me the 1,000__th__– so here's a honorable mention for you, dear!~  
__Oh god. It's amazing, really amazing. I don't know what to say. I feel honored and happy and also a bit scared, because oh wow… it's so much, the love you readers gave to me. It's… wow. Yeah, wow. Overwhelming._^^  
_Thank you. Thank you so, so much. _*hugs you all*

_A/n2: …and in other news _(XDDD), _it's almost Mother's Day!~ Did you get your mother a nice present for tomorrow? I know mine expects a nice present – or else she'll go Belarus on me. A-ahahaha… I wish I was exaggerating things, but my poor younger brother sure got one hell of a "grrrr!"-speech last year when he gave her some lousy deodorant that wasn't even nicely wrapped or something. _

…

_Okay, she may have had a point there. _

_A/n3: Grrrrr. Sorry – no porn in this one. And I feel really, __**really**__ bad about it, too, since I had shamelessly expected to write some smut in this chapter, but, well… Toni ended up talking too much again. So – next week, for sure. That means Lovi's narrating will have to wait for yet another week. GAH. _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXIII:

_**Big Ole Butt  
**__**(LL Cool J**__**)**_

I must have made my (not-unfriendly, but still kind of _stern_) statement to Belarus pretty clear, since she didn't exactly put up a fight after I had lifted the (relatively light – and so very handy!~) axe that had been _planted_ in the small piece of billiard table between her and my lover up again.

Nope – not at all.

She just looked at the nice axe resting on my shoulder, then focused her – suddenly dangerously narrowed – eyes on the drunk Lovino hanging around my neck and finally rested her gaze on me, before she sat upright a bit more and shuffled to the side of the billiard table, holding her hand in the air, still staring at me with those icy eyes of hers and an unfazed facial expression.

'Help me off the table.'

I was baffled and blinked, quickly gripping Lovino firmer since he was moving around too much ('…Anto…thingy… what the fu-fuck is wrong with this fucking spinning roo-room, dammit…') and slowly starting to slip away from my grasp.

'What?'

'Help me off the table,' she repeated, '…I need to look for my big brother.'

'Your big brother, huh…' I muttered, catching a glimpse of a grey scarf that appeared from behind a large pillar.

Belarus nodded. 'I'm talking about Russia. My big brother. I must look for him. Help me off the table.'

'I think he went outside.' I lied, trying not to pay too much attention to the pillar in the back of the café and putting my axe on the floor for a second to help the Belarusian girl off the table.

She hopped down and gave me a persistent glare.

'He went outside?'

'Yes – he must have been pulled along with those bearded men from earlier…'

'Are you sure?'

I shrugged, which wasn't easy with a squirming Italian dangling on your body like a heavy ragdoll.

'Ah… I guess?'

'Then I'll go look for him outside. Thank you for your information.' She paused for a moment. 'I'll spare the brat.'

She didn't point at Lovino, but ah, _somehow_, I knew she meant him, and so I nodded.

'That's… very nice of you.'

But Belarus was done talking to me and turned around, briskly walking towards the entrance of the (suddenly very empty) Russian bar despite her hurt leg, and then disappeared in the dark twilight outside.

…

Good.

**oOo**

It took another three minutes and a lot of encouragement from my side before Russia was absolutely, _absolutely_ convinced his sister wasn't around anymore and he was willing to come from behind his extremely obvious, incredibly stupid hideout – just _who_ would use a simple, thin wooden pillar as a barrier, especially when you're not exactly the _lightest _of all?

Ahahaha. Russia!~

Apparently.

Anyway, said nation was very grateful that I had tricked Belarus and wore a huge, unreal grin on his cold face as he approached me and Lovi (who was still kicking and complaining)with open arms, saying "thank you, thank you!~" over and over again.

…

Hmm?

I frowned. I seriously wondered _why_ the Russian was thanking me so many times. It wasn't like I did it for _him _that I had told Belarus to go look for him on the streets of Moscow – oh no, I have had a very good reason to lie to her:

Her big-boned brother owned me an explanation.

No, he owned me _a lot _of explanations.

One about the impulsive kidnapping of Lovino, one about the dangerous situation I had found him back in and one about the current alcoholic daze he was in.

And if Russia knew what was _good_ for him, he'd better give me some _good _explanations.

After all, Belarus could have been gone – but that didn't mean he was _safe._

…

Ouch – and that was my face, that had just met Lovino's foot in a very painful way.

'Lovi…' I sighed, angrily pushing his foot away from my bruised cheek.

However, he was too far gone to listen to me and started to – oh god – _flap with his arms_.

'W-why the fu-fucking hell am I floa-floating in the sky? It is be-because… OH! Holy crap! It's a fuck-fucking _miracle!_'' his hoarse voice yelled/squeaked in excitement, '…I'm-I'm fucking flying _high! _You, Antowhatsyourface! _Check me out_! I'm-I'm a freaking _airplane!~_'

…

I just groaned – and pretended to not have heard the disturbing squiggle at the end.

**oOo**

Fortunately, the still very happy and relieved (and completely unaware of my growing annoyance) Russia was more than willing to sit down with me and Lovino and tell me all about what had happened this day.

So we did – like Russia, I just sat down, pushed Lovino down on the chair next to me and carefully held his hand – and the Russian started his explanation.

According to him, he and Lithuania had gone to Italy this morning, hoping to convince (read: _force_) Lovino to come with Russia to Moscow as soon as possible, since he was having love problems and thought that lovely Lovino was one _hell_ of a Casanova – he also was one _damn_ handsome Italian piece of art, after all, and therefore a guy who would flirt and screw with everything that had as much as a face.

Ah… I had chuckled when I had heard that.

Oh yes, Lovino flirted a bit every now and then. Always with pretty women and always with pretty women that he wasn't going to get anyway, which he probably knew and didn't mind, since he wasn't really interested in them anyway but liked the thrill of _trying_.

…but Lovi wasn't a Casanova. Oh no… he was the kind of guy who would snarl and yell at you for being late on a romantic date, the kind of guy who'd silently ask for attention just by scooting a little bit closer to you on the couch without even _looking_ at you, the kind of guy who'd give you all of his heart without hesitation – but only if you had proven yourself to be _worthy _of his love.

_That_ was Lovino.

…

Ahaha, but I bet he must have beamed with pride when Russia told him he thought of him as one freaking _beast_ of a man!~ Ah, I wish I could have seen the look on my lover's face – I bet it had been heartwarmingly cute!~

'Ha, yes, he really _had _looked kind of cute!~' had Russia agreed.

…

…

Ah.

I had forced a fake smile, took a better hold on Lovino's sweaty hand and told Russia with a blank stare to continue his explanation.

He gladly carried on.

The Russian had planned to take Lovino to some just as Russian restaurant in Moscow (which name I also couldn't pronounce and wasn't even going to _try _to pronounce, even though I knew it started with a "T" and ended with a "T" – I think…), but then _Belarus_ had suddenly called him, just when he was in the middle of a conversation with Lovino. She called him to tell him she was waiting at that specific restaurant that had a name that started and ended with a "T" and that she had locked the terrified staff of the joint up in the cellar and had stolen a few pretty knives out of the kitchen to show to her big brother later in order to suggest to him to make use of them on their wonderful incestuous wedding, if they had to cut their cake…

…oh! And after all that, she also told Russia she had screwed open all of the faucets of the restaurant because she was feeling a bit bored.

…

At that, freaked-out Russia had made a mental _somersault _and hung up on her, telling a very confused Lovino that they weren't going to the restaurant with the unpronounceable name that started and ended with a "T" anymore but would look for something else to hide and have that one conversation Lovino wanted to have that badly in, which they found in _Polaksjahahajja7712*&$$_, the lovely bar with the ugly brown furniture and suspicious stains on the walls and floors where Russia had been a couple of times before already.

…ah.

While Russia was telling me all of this, I noticed he was deliberately avoiding talking about _any_ subjects that could have something to do with the reason why he had asked Lovino for some love advice in the first place.

That was too bad – I'd like to know if he was in love or something. If that indeed was the case, I was sure it would have some good effects on him. Oh yes.

…

But only if it was mutual, of course… and I seriously wondered if something like mutual feelings could even _exist_ in any relation Russia would want to be in…

Ah, that was kind of sad. I really hoped he would find mutual love. If someone like me could find it, surely Russia could find it as well. I was certain of it.

…

Anyway, I thought it would be best to respect his decision to not-tell me anything about his secret, and just lovingly squeezed Lovino's hand a bit (causing it's tipsy owner to stare at our connected hands with glassy, unreadable eyes) and encouraged the Russian to keep on talking.

And so, Russia told me he and Lovino ordered some drinks – he himself felt like drinking vodka, and Lovino wanted to have milk. The Russian nation was surprised Lovino would want to drink something as "lame" as milk in a tough bar like the one they were in, but didn't protest – Lovi was his guest, after all – and ordered milk for him.

After their drinks had been delivered at their table, Russia and Lovino started drinking and talking about Lovino's desire to top me (…um, I don't think he knew he wasn't supposed to tell me about Lovino's plan, ahaha…), and Russia had noticed Lovino was getting more and more "spontaneous", more and more "impolite" and more and more forward than he had ever seen him before.

Which he found funny.

_Funny_.

…

Ah. I wondered if that Russian bastard would still think feeding Lovino suspicious milk was "funny" if I would rebuild his _face_ with my _axe_. And I'm not talking about Lovi's adorable little axe – I'm talking about _mine_. The one in Spain.

…

However, Russia, clueless about my feelings as he always was about feelings of other persons than himself, continued.

While Lovino's glass became emptier with every huge gulp he took, his questions became bolder and his actions and movements didn't make any sense and didn't have any coordination anymore. Russia actually started to worry a bit about him and asked him a couple of times if he felt alright, but Lovi reacted quite aggressively on those questions, before he had suddenly fallen down on the floor. Flat on his face.

…

Oh… oh _god_!

At hearing that, I paled and immediately pulled Lovi (with chair and all) closer to me to check his head for any painful bumps, but it wasn't that bad – maybe just a hump on his forehead, but that was all, actually.

That's also what Russia said. Apparently, Lovi had been unconscious for about a second or five before he had woken up again and demanded the Russian to order him another milk, which he _did_, for some reason, even though he knew by then that the milk wasn't doing Lovino any good. And while they were at it, Russia ordered another vodka for himself and in a matter of a few minutes, he and Lovino had become the best pals and drunk drank after drank. The ambiance was really enjoyable, Russia told me with a smile.

…I _really_ didn't know what to think of that smile.

At that time, neither of them knew that Russia's younger and creepy sister had sneaked into the café _ninja-style_, only a few minutes after they had entered it – oooh yes, she knew Russia better than he had thought she would.

Belarus had spotted them sitting together and had become _so_ jealous and mad at Lovino for spending precious quality time – that should have been _her _quality time! – with her beloved big brother, that she had mixed all kinds of alcohol and even some weird _drugs _she happened to be carrying with her (…_what?_) with his drink… and after that, she had sat back and waited for what would happen.

Well… I bet she must have had one hell of a show, but it was certain she didn't like the result, since the Italian intruder was only getting _more_ touchy-feely with her big brother thanks to her alcoholic cocktail.

_Gasp_!

Naturally, that wasn't supposed to happen, he was supposed to suffer intolerable pains and such, not to _laugh_ and have _fun_ with her big brother!

So yeah… after having spiked Lovi's fifth (!) milk with supposedly even _more _dangerous stuff, and after having snatched a simple potato-peeler from behind the bar – I bet the bartender and other employees had _somehow _heard about what she had done in the "T"-restaurant and were too scared to be put away in a cellar as well to stop her – she decided to kidnap her brother and take him to her… oh, I don't know, her secret sexroom or something.

But!

Lovino wouldn't allow it!

He actually _stood up_ for Russia – who had cowered in fear by the mere sight of his raving Belarusian sister – and _snarled_ at her, ordering her to leave Russia alone, since he obviously didn't want to come with her and that she would only "get" his new best friend over his "fucking drunk dead body, dammit!".

Belarus had answered something along the lines of "that can be arranged, _bitch_" and then a very strange fight had broken loose, a fight in which eventually the whole bar had gotten involved with and a fight in which there was a lot of Belarus running after Lovino and Lovino throwing things at Belarus.

...um.

Back in my old days, that wasn't called _fighting_ – that was called _Saturday-night_.

Ah, but who am I? Ahahaha…

Anyway, in the end, after a lot of weirdness and a Russia who had suddenly become Lovino's biggest fan (his own words), both troublemakers _somehow_ landed on top of the old billiard table in the middle of the café – and up there, they carried on growling at and dancing around each other like a couple of extremely confused and possibly possessed… _turtles_ _on_ _steroids_!

Really!

Meanwhile, the people who were watching them hop up and down really didn't know what to think of the fight, but since they obviously didn't have anything better to do, they decided to hang around and laugh at the Belarusian girl and Italian dude jumping around the billiard table. And since I already believed the fight _really_ had been one of the stupidest fights in history, I can't blame them for laughing. I bet I would have done the same. But only if Lovi had been replaced with someone I hated, like England.

In a humiliating _purple bunny-suit!_

That was _way_ too big for him!

_Yes_!

You would only see his fat eyebrows, peeking through the hole of the head-part of the suit!

_Scowling!~_

Oooh _yes! _Just imagine how _lame_ he would look, haha!

…

A-ah… back to reality, Toño! Ahahaha…

…ahem…

If I had to believe Russia, the fight all of a sudden got a lot more serious when Belarus had wounded Lovino with her peeler… and after that had happened, Lovino was also not holding back anymore to hurt her whenever he saw a possibility.

Then some furniture was launched, 'cause apparently, that was useful.

And then Lovino was getting tired… and that wasn't a good sign, especially since it seemed like Belarus was only getting _started_.

He fought back like a lion, but still got more and deeper cuts from Belarus, cuts that actually made him bleed. Still, he _never _even _thought_ about giving up and I was sure he would probably have been mercilessly _peeled to death _by Belarus… if I hadn't showed her the fancy axe I had with me from up close.

…and, well…

That's it.

Russia talked a lot more after that, something about blossoming friendships and eternal gratefulness, but I refused to listen to him any longer.

I was _fed up_ with this damn country. Time to go home already.

**oOo**

'Ha, are you and Italy Romano leaving, Spain?'

Russia made a sad face when he saw I was getting up from the chair. In one swift movement, I also pulled an arm of Lovino over my shoulder to support him with standing up and walking.

Subsequently, I glanced at the Russian and nodded a bit, trying to ignore the ridiculously cute, puzzled look Lovino was giving me.

'Yes, we're going back to Italy – sorry. I just don't think Lovi is able to continue his visit in this state of mind.'

'Damn, you're _hot_.' Lovino muttered with an almost offending surprised blush, staring at me like it was the very first time he had ever done that, '…ar-are you Spanish or something?'

My face firstly lit up (oooh, he thought I was hot!~), but then _dropped_ at that last part (…b-but I'm Spain _itself_…) and I sighed, pulling my drunk lover closer.

'See? See what I mean?'

Russia blinked and frowned.

'No.'

'Ah.'

Not _that_ much of a surprise, actually.

I sighed again and shrugged. 'Well, that's too bad. But it doesn't matter if you get what I mean or not, since we're still going back – I have to take care of his injuries.'

'I really like your face. It's s-so _pretty_…' Lovino suddenly stated with a scarily solemn look. '…in fa-fact, I think I'm going to lick it.'

'Let's _not_, okay?' I laughed nervously at Russia and bend my head in the weirdest ways just to dodge Lovino's eager mouth – a thing I never thought I'd _**ever**_ do, because oh my _god, _if we had been in any other context, I'd gladly allow him to lick me all over… and then I'd lick him, and then he'd shiver and moan, and then… and then…

…

Yeah, maybe we should go already.

'Well!~' I said with a voice that was a few octaves higher than usual, '…looks like we're done here! Thank you for sharing your time with Lovino and all, and, um… I guess I see you at the next world conference!~'

Russia gave me a weak smile, after which he looked down, to the floor.

'Ha… yes, I suppose I see you and Italy Romano there then...'

'Definitely.' I said and wanted to turn around, but one of his huge Russian hands suddenly landed on my shoulder and prevented me from runni- I mean, walking away.

_Ugh_.

I swallowed an annoyed growl, stopped and looked at him with darkened eyes. '_Yes_, Russia?'

'Um. Spain. Before you go, I… can I ask you something? Can you do me a favor?' he asked quietly, quickly pulling his hand back from my shoulder.

I nodded impatiently. 'Yes yes, sure, what is it?'

'Oh, it's nothing big, but I wondered… could you.. um, could you…'

Russia laughed panicky, sounding a bit embarrassed and keeping his eyes strictly focused on the ground.

'Please remind Italy Romano to say hi to that woman for me. I've forgotten her nation's name since her country is small and insignificant and absolutely not-important to my country at all, but he'll know who I mean.'

I tilted my head, surprised, and wanted to tell him I _also_ knew who he meant, but the Russian persistently avoided my eyes and abruptly took off, hurrying out of the café even before me and Lovino did. I watched him leave with a mixed feeling I didn't fully comprehend.

'That was strange…' I mumbled.

'Go-_god_, am I craving for some _wafels_ all of a sudden!' Lovino suddenly said and started to laugh uncontrollably, before he pulled my face closer to his and managed to give me a playful lick to my cheek.

There was a slight _throb_ in the veins of my neck – I could feel it as the Italian tongue softly grazed over my face and left a wet trail of spit and alcohol behind.

I stared at him, not knowing quite sure what to say.

'L-Lovino…'

He smirked and flushed at the same time – probably because he must have felt daring as well as embarrassed about his unusual action.

'Or… or maybe I'm craving for _you_, Antonimmnn… o.'

…

Ah… ahahahaha… ha…

…r-right, time to go, time to go back home, back to Italy, quickly, before I'd do I-don't-know-what to this _very seductive, very sexy_ version of Lovino, and I didn't want to do anything to Lovino because he was drunk, and I'd be taking advantage of him if I _should totally throw him on that table and attack him_ even though I knew I shouldn't act like some crazy sexmaniac but _oh my god how hot would that be _no, but I couldn't, I should be the smartest, the wisest, the _strip him of all his clothes and have rough sex with him against a wall in some dirty alley—_

'I-I'm cold.' Lovino suddenly sniffled.

I snapped out of the hysterical horny haze in my head and blinked.

'W-what?'

'A-and my face hurts. And my arms hurt.' Lovi muttered and I felt a shiver running through him as he clung to me some more.

'…ca-can we go home now?'

…

…

Ah.

I don't know how, but for some reason, I succeeded in shaking off my sinful thoughts and I nodded, smiling encouraging to my lover as I pressed a kiss to his feverish face.

'Yeah. Let's go, Lovino.'

**oOo**

Okay!~

A couple of things had to be done first before both parts of Italy and I were back in their House in Italy again…

One: I had to drag Lovi outside, who was having freakishly quick mood-swings, mood-swings that actually could have put _mine_ to shame – he was flipping from happy to horny to bratty to needy to sleepy in a matter of_ split-seconds_. And after dragging him outside, I had to place him against something sturdy because…

Two: …I had to scrape Feli off the ground, who had been _Italy_ enough to eavesdrop on the earlier happenings that went on inside of the café (even after I had told him not to move a muscle) and apparently had gotten himself _trampled _by those rapid Russians as a result. Afterwards…

Three: …I carried _both_ brothers to the car next to the red Square, which had been a walk of pure _hell _since Lovi couldn't stop personality-flipping and hiccupping and since Feli couldn't stop whining and crying. And after helping/pushing/shoving them into the car, I…

Four: …drove back to Italy as fast as I could – seriously, I don't believe I had _ever _driven so damn _hard_, but then again, it wasn't like I ever had had a chance to do it either since I never had to pick up a drunk Lovino from Moscow in the evening before. Oh well – let's just say there's a first time for everything.

And _then_, after of all that had happened and I was finally able to see the House of Feliciano and Lovino appearing somewhere in the dark distance, greeting me with all of its safeness and wonderfulness…

…yes, only _then _I could tell myself that we had _made it_.

…

Oh…

Oh, thank_ god_…

**oOo**

I was exhausted.

I really, really was.

I felt it as soon as I had entered the House and flopped down onto the first soft thing I happened to see, what turned out to be the old, yellow arm chair Lovino once bought when he was on vacation with his brother. It was an uncomfortable ornament, but I couldn't care less at the moment.

Ah… My head was bonking. My body was aching. My mood was foul. Oh _god_.

All I wanted… really, all I wanted right now, was to get some _sleep_. Nothing more, nothing less.

But – and I grunted and clenched my fists in the cushion of the arm chair when I realized it – I couldn't have my well-deserved rest just yet.

No. First, Lovino had to be taken care of. His injuries should be treated. Ah, yes, his body probably hurt even more than mine… and someone should give him a bath. And new clothes. And… and… and…

'Big brother Toni?' Feli's shrill voice suddenly said and I looked up with a jolt of my head, glaring at the small Italian like he had just shattered my last hope of some goddamn _peace._

'_**What**_, Feliciano?'

It startled him and he cringed a bit – and then I saw he was carrying a dazed Lovino on his back, looking like he had a lot of trouble with it. It also looked like Feli was trying to help me.

…

No, he really _was_ trying to help me.

…

I…

God, I immediately felt guilty about yelling at the younger brother and quickly stood up from the arm chair, clapping my hands together and bowing my head.

'F-Feli… oh, I'm so sorry, please forgive me for my behavior… it's just… I'm just feeling so—'

'V-vee… yes, I-I know you're feeling tired, big brother Toni…' Feliciano interrupted me, '…that's why I wanted to tell you that I'll be taking care of my big brother for a minute or ten, fifteen… if you don't mind, of course…'

I looked up. '…y-you're going to take care of him?'

Feliciano smiled reassuring. 'Yep. I'll tend his wounds and I'll give him a quick shower and all. I'll make sure he'll be feeling a lot better when I'll bring him to bed – and actually, I think he's already feeling a little better, since this is _his_ idea.'

'It- it is?' I stammered, now staring at Lovino.

The older brother gave me a weak nod.

'Loo-look, you… I don't really know wh-what has happened, bu-but something is telling me I-I should cut you some slack, s-so… so you're lucky that my-my stupid brother is willing to help us out here… bastard…'

I felt my disappointed heart lighten up right away at those carefully mumbled words, because… because he actually began to sound a lot more like good old grumpy, yet sweet _Lovino _again_._ And oh, how I had missed him.

'I'm… I'm _very_ lucky to have Feli around, yes…' I muttered, ashamed and unsure of how to look the both of Italy in the eyes, '…so… so what do you want _me_ to do, Lovino? Do you want me to make up the bed, or… a-ah, you probably don't want to share your bed with me tonight since you've had a busy day and—'

'I'll fucking _kill _you if I don't find you in my bed when I return to my room.'

Lovino growled, his lively eyes narrowed and warning.

'A-ah.' I muttered, smiling a bit as a strange combination of feelings like confusion and joy ran through my body.

'A-am I _clear_?' Lovino snorted.

I nodded. 'You are _very_ clear, Lovi…'

'And very heavy, too…' Feliciano said under his breath – but Lovino still heard him and gave him a hit on the head.

'Sh-shut up and… um… and take _care_ of me already, Feli-Felifli… ugh, whatever…'

Feli made a whining sound but obeyed and stumbled off with Lovino, leaving me and a increasingly happier feeling behind.

T-thank you, Feli! Thank you very much!

I'd… I'd _personally_ make sure to get Germany and Feliciano the best wedding-present they could _ever_ get! That was the least I could do for Lovino's helpful – yet a bit perverted - little brother!

…

Maybe I really _should _tape me and Lovino having sex…

…

Ah, it was a nice idea for a gift. But Lovino would probably bite my head off if I had the guts to even _suggest_ something like that.

Ahaha!~

Well, let's make the bed already!~

**oOo**

While Feli and Lovi were (fighting) in the bathroom, I was in Lovino's bedroom, doing my very best to make the best bed I had _ever_ made for him.

I had taken fresh, soft, crème-colored bed linen out of the closet and acted like a real perfectionist when I carefully folded the huge sheets _just so_ and fluffed the giant pillows on the bed, since I was good at doing that. Ah, Lovino sometimes told me (while huffing and folding his arms and having after-sex-pains) that was _all _I was good for – fluffing the pillows.

So I made sure I fluffed the pillows just the way he liked it, which was…

…

…I don't know. But he never complained about my pillow-fluffing abilities, so I guess I was always doing a pretty dang good job at it!~ Ahahaha!~

So!

After having made the bed and fluffed the pillows, I closed the curtains (but made sure there was a nice summer breeze blowing in the room, because I knew Lovi loved it to sleep with the windows open), dimmed the lights until there was just a nice, romantic glow left…

…and then I took a few steps back, planting my hands in my sides as I admired my work.

Ah, not bad, not too shabby!~ I think Lovino would like this ambiance – pleasant, welcoming, peaceful…

…

…maybe even _inviting?~_

Oh, no. No no. I frowned and shook my head. No, I don't think Lovino would feel much for some passionate sex tonight. And he had got all rights to feel that way – he was fed numerous kinds of suspicious Russian alcohol and shady drugs, no _wonder _he must be feeling _awful_…

Right. I turned and gave myself a stern look in the mirror.

Know what that means, Toño? That means that you have to keep your hands _off _him. It would be very bad to make love with him in the state he is in at this very moment, it wouldn't be _right_. It would be very, very wrong. I'd be taking advantage of him, and like I said – I didn't want to take advantage of him, even though actually really did want to.

…

Wait, let me try that again…

**oOo**

Ah…

I don't know how long I was trying to convince my reflection that I _really_ wasn't going to do naughty things with a boozed and vulnerable Lovino, but when I finally let myself sit on the bed, I still felt like it hadn't been long enough.

I groaned and let myself fall backwards, on the bed.

I was such a weak man.

Ah, as a _nation_, sure, I could be as strong as you'd expect me to be, surviving wars and financial crisis's like it was nothing…

…but as a _human_? Weak to the bone.

…

B-but I had to be strong _now_. I had to _control_ myself _now_. I couldn't let my own desires get the best of me, just because I happened to feel… this way…

I should keep Lovino's well-being in mind. I should do what was best for him. I should do what he wanted me to do.

Yes. I sighed in relief as I felt myself relaxing a bit more and sat up again. That's right – I'd never hurt Lovino. I'd never do anything to him what he didn't want me to do. I'd never do anything that made him change his views on love and sex and… and his views on _me_, actually…

If I just kept telling myself that, then everything would probably be alright. Yes. Certainly. I nodded determinedly, if only to show myself that I really meant it.

And then the door of the bedroom opened.

And then Lovino came shuffling in.

Wearing nothing more but a long, simple shirt that was a tad too big for him (w-wait a minute, was it _mine_?), his trademark frown and a bright blush that spread itself all over his adorable, still slightly _wet_ face, as he fumbled with the shirt.

'…g-glad you're here.'

…

…

…

'S-so am I, Lovi…' I heard myself breathe, '…oh _**god**_, so am I…'


	34. Bum II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Hey, guess what? FF is giving me a hard time again!~ __Because of some weird reason, I can't instantly reply on reviews anymore – oh no, my links are way too outdated for that, according to the oh so informative FF 404-error-shit-thingy!~  
__**WHAT**__. _TT_TT _My mind actually went blank when I saw that and I wanted to chew on my keyboard out of pure frustration, but instead, I stayed calm, ate some potato-chips and PM'ed everyone who gave me a signed in review – except for the people who had disabled that option. So now you know. Hooray, explanations!~ _

_A/n2: The final of the Eurovision Songfestival is going to air tonight! And as always, my country's not in it. _*sobs dramatically* _Gah… and here I was, thinking we could actually make it this year… _OTL

_A/n3: Well, this is it – the second chapter I've __ever dedicated to… u-um, a smutty (and hopefully kind of cute) rendez-vous. _^^;;; _T-tadaaah!~ I do fear I might have overdone it, though…_

_A/n4: One last thing… according to the news, some people predicted an earthquake would hit Italy (Rome) last Thursday. Guess what? It hit Spain instead…  
_…_I don't know, I thought I should say something about it… _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXVI:

_**Mardy Bum  
**__**(Arctic Monkeys**__**)**_

For a short moment, all I was able to do was _stare_.

Stare at that… that oh so very lovely, so very handsome, so very sexy Italian in front of me, stare at everything that made Lovino _Lovino_.

Ah… it was a _feast_ to look at him. There were just so many things that were so absolutely _breathtaking_ about him...

Like his body. Oh yes. I loved his well-shaped legs. I loved the surprisingly light tone of his olive skin. I loved the _taste_ of him and the _smell_ of him and the _sound_ of him and I loved those timid, yet fierce eyes that shyly observed me through the bangs of his unruly hair, unaware of the fact that they always knew how to make my breath hitch in my throat…

Oh, Lovino was so beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

He always had been and he always _will_ be.

And since Lovi was blessed with the self-esteem of a cracker, I'd _gladly_ be the one who constantly reminds him of his own perfection.

Because...

Judging from those smallest hints of a bashful smile that always showed up on his face whenever I lovingly informed him about his beautiful self, I don't think he ever minded to hear that.

**oOo**

Although I could probably easily continue _gaping_ at my charming lover for the rest of the evening, my fully devoted, Lovino-focused attention was still somewhat distracted by the unsure, stubborn scowl that same Lovino was wearing.

Ah, sure – it shouldn't be _that _much of a surprise that my love was frowning again: it was his _thing_. He just wouldn't be the moody, sarcastic Southern part of Italy if he didn't glare and pout at the world around him.

But still…

Lovi had a lot of frowns. Angry ones, mostly, but also sorrowful frowns, happy frowns (really!) and… _apologetic_ frowns – in other words, the kind of frowns he only showed at times he _knew _he had done something that he really _shouldn't_ have, but was nevertheless having a lot of trouble with the actual apologize-part, since he was a very proud and stubborn Italian and hated to admit he had done something wrong.

And right now, he was wearing the apologize-frown.

I could see it. The way he dragged his (bare…) feet over the ground, avoided any eye contact with me and kept on fidgeting… yup, he was definitely trying to say sorry for something, but it didn't really seem to go very well…

…

…ah.

I blinked and casually rubbed the back of my head, waiting for him to make the first move. I knew that was the _only_ good way to respond in this kind of situation, because if I, for example, would try to help him out by asking what was the matter, he would sputter and shout at me that he had been wanting to tell me and would probably have told me everything already if I hadn't rambled right through him, _dammit_!

And then he would be mad at me, without knowing why.

And _that_ would be very confusing.

So, I just sat back and smiled reassuringly at Lovino, giving him an encouraging nod while wondering how his soft, still-fuzzy-and-tingly-and-warm-from-the-bath –skin would feel like pressed against mine.

…

…anyway…

Lovino took a few deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling very slowly, before he finally dared to look up to me and courageously lock his eyes with mine – although he probably was still having a hard time, since his hands were clenched into tight fists, clutching the shirt draped over his body.

'A-Antonio.' he suddenly said – and I uttered a sigh of relief when I heard he was able to pronounce my human name again without ending the sentence with experimental words like _fmnbvbkmn_ or something like a ~.

'Y-yes, Lovino?' I answered automatically, for some reason stuttering just as passionately (I think it could have something to do with that _naked_ shoulder he was suddenly showing) as he did.

He growled and groaned and licked his lips and _oh god drove me absolutely __**crazy **__with his unintentional_ _sexiness_ _and_ took a few steps forward, approaching me a bit more.

'Um… I… I'm…' (another sigh) '…I'm… l-look, I'm _sorry_, okay? I'm… I'm very sorry, dammit!'

'You're… sorry.' I repeated, giving him a sheepish smile.

'Y-yes.' Lovino said, shuffling a bit closer to me.

I nodded.

'Aha. Um… okay, but… for _what_, Lovi?'

There was a little bit of annoyance added to the current nervous look he was giving me.

'What the… you _know_ what for, d-dammit! For causing you trouble! For… for indirectly _forcing_ you to save me from that crazy Russian and his flipped-out sister!'

I widened my eyes. 'Ah, you know what has happened, even with all that booze you've had? Impressive!~ I thought you'd stay a complete imbecile for the rest of the night, ahahaha!~'

The Italian gave me a dirty look, but then he shrugged and looked at the floor again.

'…well, it's not like... I remember a lot of what has happened… and I'm not totally sure if I'm feeling that _great_… but at least I have a bit more grip on reality now… I think… or like to believe… or shit…'

I looked up at the mumbling Italian worriedly and then got up from the bed.

'Lovino… it's alright, my love, I'm not ma—'

'…s-_so_!' he cut me off bluntly, pushing weakly against my chest and glaring at my arms as I wrapped them around him carefully, '…so… so I'm sorry. I really am. I-I really am…'

He stopped fighting against me, let his hands rest against my chest and hesitated, before he cast a insecure, grumpy glance up to my face.

'…hope you can… grhm… f-forgive me... d-dammit…'

…

I…

Oh _god_. Oh _Lovino_. I felt my face heat up and harshly gnawed down on my bottom lip.

So cute. So so _so _cute.

'Of course I'll forgive you…' I muttered softly, gently taking his (so warm and pleasantly damp) face in my hands, '…but like I said, Lovi… I'm not mad at you at all. You couldn't help the way you acted… you were just under influence of… um… milk.'

He grunted. 'If _that_ was _milk_, then I'm the Queen of the world.'

I chuckled. 'Queen of the world, Lovi?~'

'I-I mean, _King_! King of the world, dammit!' Lovino hastily corrected himself, blushing madly as my hands stroke and caressed his hot cheeks.

He winced and squirmed when one of my fingers carefully brushed over the big cut in his left cheek.

'O-ouch, ouch…'

'Ah, I'm sorry…' I whispered, turning his hurt cheek more my way to press a few light, tender kisses to it.

'A-ah…' Lovino sighed.

The soft moan made me stop and swallow. '…does… does it hurt a lot, Lovino? Do you… want me to stop?'

Lovino breathed out quietly and shook his head a bit, his eyes pretty much _sparkling_ as they made contact with mine again.

'N-no, it felt… it felt nice… really nice… god, y-you… you always know how to kiss me the right way, so…'

I was quiet for a moment and swallowed again when I felt the Italian slowly winded his arms around me, his hands grabbing the back of my shirt firmly, his nails scraping over my skin, making me jump up a bit in surprise.

'Lovino…' I managed to say.

He nuzzled the front of my shirt gingerly, affectionately. 'S-shut up and… and k-kiss me, m-m-make me feel good already, you… you… ugh…'

I smiled, pulling his face closer to mine, my lips almost touching his, but not just _yet_. I amusedly watched his face getting redder as he leaned towards me hopefully. He failed to steal a kiss from me though, since I went for something else than his wonderful lips and tilted his head up a bit more, giving long, teasing licks to his neck.

'S-stop, stop… n-nng…' Lovino gasped, startled, but didn't try to make me stop and easily gave me more access to his neck when he let his head roll back. I could feel his knees were trembling as he wobbled and held me tight, allowing me to suckle some more on the pleasant, delicate skin of his throat.

Oh, so _tasty_, so _sweet_. I shivered in delight and followed the curves of his neck, all the way down to that naughty naked shoulder of his that was almost as rosy as his beautiful face, and up again, to the side of his neck. There, I pressed my opened mouth hard against the softness just underneath it and started to nip and suck on it harshly, passionately, wanting to leave behind a nice, big love bite that would last for weeks.

Lovino's way of breathing became heavier when he felt what I was doing. 'N-no… _don't_, you-you asshole, I… ah… shit, i-it's too warm, d-dammit, I don't want to wear scarves or turtlenecks for the rest of the f-fucking week…'

I released his neck from my mouth and smiled, satisfied when I saw the great, angry mark I had created. Then I chuckled and grabbed Lovi's chin to lower it, until I was once again able to admire those wonderful flushed cheeks, admire them to my heart's content.

'You shouldn't lie to me, my beautiful love… I know you love it when I claim you like this…'

'Y-yeah, well… m-maybe!' Lovino made a face – what looked absolutely _adorable_ in that shade of red. '…b-but _you_ tell me what to wear with a mark like _this_ on a spot like _that_, you bastard!'

'Nothing!~' I happily said, pressing a quick kiss on the love bite.

'Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you.' He rolled his eyes and softly rubbed his neck. 'I knew you were going to say that… y-you're such a jerk, dammit…'

I only grinned and kissed him on his mouth – quickly, just a soft, sweet peck, but still a kiss. A kiss that caught him of guard.

'Ah, _really_ now, Lovi?~' I said fondly, right after our lips had separated again.

He seemed to be a bit overwhelmed and flustered, but managed to recover quite fast from my surprise attack.

'Y-yeah…' he muttered, wiping his mouth, '…you really are a-a huge… je... a-_ah_…'

He made a squeaky noise and his voice died in his throat when I started to move my hands (carefully) and caused his injured body to twitch and tremble as that same pair of hands travelled lower and lower, exploring the familiar area that was Lovino's body, until they rested on the small of his back, _just_ above his oh so nice little plump ass.

'_You_ are my _everything_, Lovino...' I assured him and bent towards him to gently bite the soft auricle of his ear.

_Nip~_

Lovino shivered unwillingly and raised a hand to shakily shove my face away.

'…y-y-y-y-y-you're still… a h-huge… huge… jerk…' he gulped, embarrassed but flattered, and looked away from me, one of his hands cupping his ear while the other still held on tight to my shirt.

I nodded. 'That's probably true… I'm a jerk, yes. But let's not talk about me… let's talk about _you_. Ah, yes, we really should talk more about _you_. Because you, Lovi…'

I didn't finish my sentence right away, guided his stubborn face back to mine and kissed him again. Now a bit longer, releasing a bit more of the impatient longing that was building up inside of me as I slowly ran my tongue over his lower lip… before pulling back from his slick, moist lips.

'…you complete me, my love...' I confessed hoarsely.

Lovino stared at me and I felt goosebumps rising up my arms and neck when I heard him chuckle and pant shyly – and so _sexily_, so very _seductively_ – almost as if he was afraid to be overdoing it.

'G-god, y-you… I… f-fucking charmer… I… ngh… w-what am I supposed to say to t-that, d-dammit…' he stammered, beaming a weak smile at me when I pressed numerous kisses on his mouth right after he stopped talking.

_Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss_

Like a rhythm to a melody only the two of us knew.

_Love-you-love-you-love-you_

How I loved that melody…

He gladly let me kiss him like this for a while, eventually kissing me back with some unsure, hesitating licks to my lips, then suddenly deepening the kisses by grabbing the front of my shirt, with both hands, and pulling me down on his level roughly.

Ah… I had waited for that to happen.

I responded almost immediately and pulled his body against mine in one unmeant forceful movement, my hands _finally_ going lower and touching and rubbing and kneading that flexible, cushiony butt of his, making him groan deliciously.

That was his silent sign to me to _fucking please _shove my tongue into his greedy little mouth already and play around with his own – and naturally, I _did..._ and _boy_, was I glad I did it, was I _delighted_ to taste even _more_ of his addicting, melodic moans and sighs and gasps of breath – which only got louder and more airlessly as the intensity of our kisses and my squeezes to his arching backside increased.

'A-ah… ha… I-_haa_… Anto… aah… m-mnhh…'

Hmm… he desperately tried to muffle his cries for some reason though… and that bothered me, that bothered me a _lot_, since I was _dying _to hear those wonderful sounds of pleasure and sheer horniness coming from his mouth…

…u-um…

…not that I was… planning to have steamy sex with him or something… oh no, this was just some… some innocent kissing. With lots of tongue and saliva and erections. And… and maybe some grinding. Maybe.

…

A-ahahaha…

…

Okay, so maybe I was hoping for sex. Maybe I secretly was extremely eager to pull off that shirt and make sickening sweet love to him. Maybe I actually wanted to take advantage of that cute Italian with the intensity of a thousand uncaring perverts with huge tents in their pants – so _what_?

It didn't matter, since I still needed Lovi's permission to continue. As long as Lovino didn't gave me permission to go on, I _wouldn't_ go on. That would be rape… and rape wasn't like sex at all, oh no, no, not at all – I can tell, trust me.

…

So I _reallyreallyreallyreally_ hoped my Lovino would want me to go on, or else it would mean jerking off in the bathroom for me – and that wasn't just as fun.

Maybe _half_ _as_ fun. But not even close to _just_ _as_ fun.

**oOo**

During the intense (_but nice oh so nice so very nice_) make-out session, I tried to focus and read the expression on his face every now and then.

Because... I think Lovino was having doubts about going all the way with me – his eyes kept avoiding mine, he still didn't make a lot of sound (even though I sensually kneaded and groped his nice buns with all the desperate need I had within me), and last but not least… he also looked like he was pretty _tired_. Which he probably was. Just like me, actually…

…

…

…maybe I should do us both a favor and stop doing… whatever we were doing. I didn't want Lovi to feel bad about this later… like always, I wanted this to be _romantic_ and _wonderful_ and _oooh!~_, I wanted this to be _nice_, so…

Yes, I should probably tell Lovino we should just go to sleep already.

**But**.

He chose _that _exact moment to let go of my shirt, slid his arms to my back and _clamp down_ on my ass with possessive, yet quivering hands.

For the second (or maybe already third, fourth?) time that day, he managed to make me jump and gasp in surprise and I didn't really know what I thought about that, didn't really know what to say about that, but the minute I looked down at him, wanting to give him permission to go on with whatever he was implying there…

I…

I felt my throat becoming _painfully_ dry when I caught his blushing face looking at me with half-lidded eyes, our shared saliva still glistering on his wet lips and chin.

'An…Antonio…' he lisped softly.

I decided to clear my throat at that – and yes, it hurt.

'Lovino… I…'

'I-I need you…' Lovino cut me off impatiently, '… I really need you so badly tonight…'

…

W…

W-when I heard that, I could have died happily.

Lovino honestly telling me he _needed_ me… that was just pure _bliss_.

…

Ah… I don't know why exactly, but right then and there, I decided to tease him a bit.

I paused with what I was doing, gently resting my hands on his hipbones as I – reluctantly – pushed him backwards with a sly smile on my face.

'I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that… what did you say?~'

Oh my, Lovi's overheated, frustrated face looked like it was about to burst. How _cute!~_

I kind of understood whyhe reacted like this, though – he normally wasn't really vocal about wanting to go to bed with me. He usually went for the easy way: simply waiting for some kind of sexual string to _snap_ somewhere deep inside of me and giving me a small nod when I was heavily murmuring in his ear if he was in the mood for mind-blowing sex. He _never _said no, by the way – hey, he was a _male_, after all...

However, now, in this situation, he had to actually _tell_ _me_… noooo, _repeat _to me that he wanted to make love to me… and that was a lot more difficult to do.

But… well… if he _really_ wanted to become more dominant in bed, then he at least should be able to say "drop those fucking pants already, jackass!" or something along those lines whenever we were about to get it on… so this was a fairly good opportunity for him.

And it looked like he even _took it_, too!

'Y-you fucking bastard… I… I…' a very _red_ Lovino all of a sudden started to stammer, pursing and twisting his lips together in a strangely arousing pout _oh my god so cute and sexy and ngh_, '…y-you _know_ what I said, y-you dickhead, I… I want to… I want to have… s-s-s-sex with y—_nmh!_…'

I abruptly kissed him, unable to control myself any longer, as soon as the dreaded S-word had been said. Well, kind of.

Lovi growled, annoyed when he felt I cheekily slipped my tongue into his mouth again, but didn't resist and leaned more against me, kissing me back cautiously with frowned, but gently-closed eyes.

Oh, I _wanted_ him, oh, how much I _wanted _him…

'I love you so much…' I breathed hotly when I pulled back again, and placed a hand against the side of his face to caress and admire it, '…and I'd be glad to have sex with you… oh yes, _very _glad, very very very glad—'

'_Shut_ _up_ and t-touch me already, bastard…' Lovino hissed and gave me a mean kick to the shin to emphasize his words.

I pretended I didn't feel _ungodly_ _pains damn that was going to leave a bruise_ at all and just gave a light pull to his shirt.

'Ah… keep this thing up for me then.'

Lovi gave me a questioning look, blinking.

'…keep this thing up? L-like this?'

He took a few steps back and grabbed the hem of the shirt, face crimson-red as he slowly lifted it up, but stopped when the shirt was hanging just above his bellybutton.

I made a face and shook my head, in the meantime licking and sucking on both of my thumbs. Then I took them out of my mouth.

'Oh no. That won't do, Lovi – higher.'

I found it pretty hard not to snicker at Lovino's confused face.

'H-higher? W-what, do you want me to pull it out or something?'

I smiled. 'Not just yet – but thank you for asking!~ No, just lift it up some more.'

He scowled, but did what I said and pulled the shirt even higher up, until he was keeping it up just below his chin.

'Yes, perfect.' I nodded, satisfied, and took a big step forwards to him.

Lovino, growing more embarrassed and flustered with every second that passed, still didn't get it and shot an unsure, suspicious glare to me.

He probably wanted to snarl something at me, but I simply didn't give him to chance to vent, closing the last bit of distance between us with another none-too-gentle kiss to his lips, pressing my hands to his naked chest and my thumbs on both his already hardened nipples simultaneously.

'W-what… o-_oh!_''

Lovino reacted with a jolt and tried to squirm away from my hands, but as soon as my spit-covered thumbs began to rub those two wonderful buds of flesh, rub them slow and _hard_, he gave in with a soft, muffled moan, his lovely body trembling but willing underneath my hands, his heartbeat increasing in speed.

Ah… that was good… that was very good…

I smiled into the growing more and more feverous kiss, enjoying the way Lovino seemed to completely _melt_ into it.

Now… time to take this further…~

**oOo**

…but that wasn't as easy as I had thought it would be.

…

Ah…

You see, Lovino was a bit injured – from his epic fight with Belarus, no doubt. He had scratches, cuts and bruises all over his body, _especially _on his back, shoulders and chest. And let's not forget that huge thing on his left cheek.

In other words…

…there weren't a lot of sex-positions that were comfortable enough for him. Oh, on the contrary - most of the positions in which I'd like to _bang _him would be way too _painful_. And I _really_ didn't want it to be painful for him. I loved him too much for that.

Just a few of the many positions we couldn't do tonight:

For starters, I couldn't make love to Lovino if he would lie on his back. Oh no. I would drag him back and forth and _back and forth_ and _**back and forth**_ over the bed and hurt his already hurt back even worse.

I also couldn't make love to him if he would lie on his stomach, raise that _hmmm~ so beautiful_ butt of his up in the air (and let me do all kind of stuff with that sweet, sweet butt that would take our breaths away), because one – I'd hurt his chest, and two – Lovino _never_ liked it if we did it like that. He once told me he felt really ashamed whenever we had sex in that position. Also, it wasn't romantic enough. Lovi always wanted eye contact during sex. And kisses. And light touches to his face.

'_B-because I love you__… and you're supposed to love me too. A-and shit. S-so… so you better __**show **__**me**__ you do whenever we're doing this, y-you bastard.' _

…

…a-ah, such an admirable, perfect view on love and sex…

…

Still, it looked like we had a problem.

I mean, the two abovementioned positions were simply put the most functional, enjoyable and well-known sex-positions in this world – and most of the other daring positions that flashed through my perverted, lusty mind were either too _exhausting _or too _difficult_ for us to do… well, at least right _now_. So there wasn't really a suitable option for us left.

At least, that was what I thought.

Luckily enough, Lovi didn't agree with me.

'D-don't… _haaa_… don't be stupid… I can always… y-you know… r-ride you…' he had panted huskily, gnawing on a small part of his bottom lip as I continued pinching and twitching his dark nipples between my fingers during our strange little conversation.

I had stared at him a couple of seconds, before the image of a sweaty, moaning Lovino, moving wildly up and down on my cock while I would look at him doing _just_ _that_ came to mind.

…

…a-ahaha… ha…

And so, _naturally_, I found myself agreeing with his hot suggestion right away.

**oOo**

After we had decided we would go on with this and we would go on with this _like _this, the first thing I did was freeing Lovi from that bothersome shirt he was wearing, discovering that Lovino had been _completely_ _naked_ underneath the shirt, just as I had suspected.

Oooooh… Kinky. _Very_ kinky…~

Then the very cute and embarrassed Italian snapped at me and demanded me to get rid of my clothes as well, so l obeyed immediately and threw everything, all of my clothes, right there, on the floor.

There was some hesitant staring and blushing and fumbling from Lovi's side as he watched me undressing myself, so I made sure to get naked on the most sensual way there was – _really _slowly_._

We quickly got into the bed after that – me first, Lovi timidly crawling towards me as soon as I was contently settled against the wooden headboard of the bed… and I couldn't help myself, I just _had _to say it as I watched him approaching me…

'We haven't made love _this _way in a long time, Lovino.'

I smiled at his somewhat startled face and placed my hands on his hips, helping him sit in-between my strategically folded legs, with minimal movements and maximal concentration.

Lovino, who wasn't properly prepared yet, let me help him down and hissed when our equally hard erections brushes each other, right after he had flopped down into my lap and winded his legs behind my back loosely.

'S-stop saying weird things, w-will you…'

'Okay.'

I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, pinning his arms to his torso as I hugged him lovingly.

'Love you, my love…'

I felt him shudder and swallow. 'Y-yeah. I love you too.'

'Ah… I'm not hurting you, am I?'

'N-no, I'm fine like this…'

I pressed a kiss to his forehead. 'Shall I prepare you then?'

Lovino opened his mouth. Then he changed his mind and closed it again, looking away from me when he shook his head.

'I… um… I want to do it myself.'

'You… you want to do it _yourself_?' I repeated him with big, unbelieving eyes and a voice that sounded nothing like mine.

He cringed and nodded, but was too ashamed (and judging by his expression, too _perplexed _by his own sexy way of thinking) to look at me, moving around on my lap awkwardly.

Of course, I gallantly turned his face until he was looking at me again and gave him a slow, wet kiss.

'That's _hot, _Lovino… that's really _hot_…' I muttered against his lips, pushing his hips down on my upper legs firmly, _loving_ the way he gasped when my dick rubbed against his once again.

'Y-yeah…' he managed to say – and then he lifted a shaky hand to his face, probably wanting to coat those slender, wonderful fingers with his saliva… but I was quicker and grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand to my own face to give a few licks to his fingers.

'A-Antonio, w-what are you…' he mumbled, but stopped talking when I slipped three of his fingers into my mouth and sucked on them heartily, like it was something _else_ I was sucking on.

In the meantime, I kept a close look on Lovino's glowing face, getting more and more excited as _he_ got more and more excited. He looked dazed, breathed in and out weirdly and moved his hips on his own now, quickly licking his lips every now and then.

'A-Antonio… Antonio…' he panted passionately, parting the fingers in my mouth, '…just… a little bit more… a-a little bit more, please…'

I groaned around his fingers and lapped my tongue against and in-between them impatiently, using his wrist to thrust and twist them in and out my mouth slowly, _torturing _slowly.

Lovi moaned and made noises as if he was already on the verge of climaxing, _still _trying his best to keep his voice down.

'Nngh… Antonio… p-please, don't make me… mng… don't, d-dammit… F-Feliciano is… ah… sleeping in the room next to us…' he informed me hastily, '…w-we shouldn't wake him up…'

Aha – so that was the reason… ah, that explained a lot.

I pulled his spit-covered fingers out of my mouth and chuckled when I noticed they were still shaking. Then I looked up, at his face.

'Then you'll have to lower your beautiful voice a bit, my love…'

Lovino glared at me and grumbled some words that didn't sound cute at all.

'F-fucking motherfucking bastard with you stupid smug fuckface…'

Nope, definitely not cute.

Nevertheless, I laughed quietly and grabbed his face to kiss those grumpy lips of his, ignoring the huffy protests that actually weren't protest at all as I softly bit his lower lip.

'I love you too, Lovi…'

Lovi gulped and nodded dumbfounded, but then pushed my face away.

'D-don't distract me now, d-dammit…'

I leaned back and gave him another encouraging smile. 'Whatever you want, my love.'

He took a deep breath and took a hold of my shoulder for support, lifting his lower back a bit more from my legs as his moist, slick fingers disappeared behind him.

It wasn't before too long his quiet, suppressed grunts and moans filled the air.

'…a-ah… haa… nghn…'

It was hypnotizing. Watching Lovino doing something so very _obscene_, watching his arms move up and down as he plunged those fingers into himself with relative ease, watching his face getting more flustered and beautiful…

…oh…

…oh god, it was almost too good to be true. Lovi had never prepared himself for me before. Maybe it _wasn't _true. Maybe I should slap myself to make sure I really was awake, to assure myself that this really was happening.

But then I decided it would be better if I did something useful myself, and I pulled his writhing body closer, his surprised shrieks when I softly kissed one of his nipples and tugged on the other one music to my ears, fuelling my incredible, close-to-impossible-to-handle desire to _fuck_ _him_ _silly_ only more and more.

'Ah… _ah_!'

Lovino screwed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together as tightly as he could when he, apparently, hit something _amazing_ inside of him.

Something amazing that wasn't hit by a certain part of me.

Something amazing that _should _be hit by a certain part of me.

Something amazing that _**needed **_to be hit by a certain part of me.

Enough.

'Get them out.' I heard myself command darkly, not waiting for a response but harshly jerking his hand away from his horny hole at once.

The sudden removal of the fingers that had pleasured him so much shocked him a bit and Lovino uttered a soft cry.

'…f-_fuck_, y-you bastard, that hurt, dammit…'

'I'm sorry, my love…' I breathed against his chest and moved my determined hands lower to cup this velvety ass, lifting it up, '…but it's _my _job to make you act so damn sexy…'

Lovino was quiet for a second, quickly gripping my shoulders insistently with both of his hands as I spread his cheeks and carefully positioned myself right underneath his hovering ass, tip already sinking into the hotness that was Lovino.

'You… y-yeah?' he muttered, breathing raggedly, '…w-was it sexy?'

'Very sexy…' I assured him, sighing in bliss when I gently pressed him down on me, slowly penetrating him – and the welcoming, familiar heat engulfing me was _incredible_, so incredible, so incredible…

…ah, I this feeling… I could never get enough of it…

'A-ah… ah… _ah_…' Lovino shuddered at the wanted intrusion and took a better hold of my shoulders. Again, I could feel his nails boring into my skin as I began to thrust into him with sure, calm movements.

I tried to keep this steady pace, not-wanting it to be over too soon, b-but that turned out to be quite difficult to do, since Lovi's ass was very slippery, very lubricious from the inside… it was almost like his hole was sucking my cock in with a desperate need for _more_.

'Oh, Antonio… Anto… nng.. ha… yes… oh god, _y-yes_…' Lovino wheezed, whispered.

…

G-_god_. I bit on my tongue and panted heavily.

I was getting frustrated. J-just listen to him. H-how was I supposed to keep this safe, _stupid_ rhythm up when Lovino made such wonderful, gasping, groaning sounds just above me?

All of a sudden, Lovino choked out a yelp and pressed my head to his sweaty torso, his fingers twisting themselves into my curls as he looked down at me with shady, unclear eyes, his bouncing movements getting faster.

I leaned my chin on his chest as I stared up at that fantastic and great Italian lover of mine in _awe_.

'A-ah, Lovino… Lovino, y-you feel… you feel good, so good, so good…'

He nodded – Lovi always nodded when he didn't really know what to say – and changed his uncoordinated bouncing into sluggish rocking (_back and forth, up and down, oohhh…_), slowing down for a short moment to give me a fierce, forceful kiss, full on the mouth.

'…ha… w-what the hell are you w-waiting for…' he groaned in a low voice after he pulled away from the kiss, licking our shared saliva off his lips and lifting his butt up till my throbbing erection was about to slip out of him – and then he suddenly _slammed_ it down again, impaling himself and moaning my name at the same time, while I couldn't help but utter his name just as throatily.

'Nngh… _Antonio_…'

'L-Lovino… ah…'

'G-go faster… just… just go a bit faster and harder… m-make me… make me come already, dammit… s-so close, _so_ _close_…'

'Yes… ah, of course, my… my love…'

And with that having said, I threw all of my good intentions to do things nice and slowly with him out of the window and grabbed his perfect round butt tightly, forcefully pushing him up and pulling him down with a rhythm twice as fast and trice as hard. I even made sure to drive my cock deeper into him every time I pulled him down.

Lovino's formerly almost silent gasps of desire all of a sudden got a lot louder and more shameless. I saw he at first still tried to lower his voice by biting on the side of his hand, but I was more than just fed-up with that and immediately snatched that hand away from his mouth, leading it to his forgotten dick instead.

'O-oh god, oh _god_…' Lovino choked and _finally_ let out a full-fledged cry of pleasure when he started stroking himself, _just _when I found his prostate. And then I found it again. And again. And again.

'That's right…' I growled, nipping at his chest as a burning feeling in the pit of my stomach – or wherever it was – began to build itself up inside of me with rapid speed, '…don't hold back… don't hold back, not even for your brother… oh Lovino… Lovino Lovino _Lovino_…'

'Antonio… _Ah_! Ah-haa… I… I'm—'

I hissed and interrupted him with a sloppy kiss before he could end his rasping sentence, which meant that most of his wonderful cries were muffled as he reached his climax and came, his limbs twitching and trembling.

Unsurprisingly, I followed soon after, breathing unsteadily and holding him close as I eagerly emptied myself inside of him.

'A-ah… I… love you…' I heard Lovi say seconds later, completely out of breath, hugging me tightly.

'…I… I love you too…' I mumbled back, pulling myself out of him and smiling feebly when I noticed I got to say the "I love you _**too**_"-part… I mean… that didn't happen _that _much…

…

And then it got pleasantly quiet in the room.

I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh.

Looks like Feliciano could finally go to sleep.

**OoO**

Normally, I always fell asleep pretty quickly after sex. I'd hug and cuddle Lovi for a bit and tell him how great he was – something he enjoyed greatly, even though it was rare to hear him say it – but after that, I'd just fall back and snore away!~

…but not this time.

I still had to turn out the lights, make the bed again, say sorry to Lovino for dirtying his favorite sheets etc…

So I did. And Lovi watched me doing so with tired eyes and rosy lips and cheeks. He probably waited for me to come back to bed because his body was aching too much now anyway to be able to fall asleep.

…

Besides, he _needed_ me to fall asleep.

Ah, and I needed him, too.

But for a whole lot of _other_ reasons.

…

He would know.


	35. Moon II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: And yes, everyone's favorite Italian sourpuss is back as your lovely narrator again, starting from this chapter!~ Huzzah! Did you miss him? I know I did! Not that there's anything wrong with Toni's POV… but, well, Lovi's just a bit more fun to write. _^^ _Ah… prepare yourself for some overtly excessive use of the wonderful F-word. And some extreme fluff. _

_A/n2: Just one last thing about the Eurovision and then I promise you I won't talk about it again…for a year. _XDDD _So anyway, last week, Azerbaijan won the Eurovision Songfestival – something the Dutch commentators were very indifferent about. One of them even said "Oh well. I think I'm going to take a dump now." when Azerbaijan's song was playing. A-ahaha…_ _But hey, the good part is that **Italy** got **second** place! Guess what country gave the Italies 12 points...~~~~~~ __Go on, guess! _*flails*

**_Edit A/n3: _**_I edited some stuff!~ Felt like I had to, so I did._^^ _Don't be surprised when you read something else in the chapter now._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXV:

_**Bad Side of the Moon  
**__**(Elton John**__**)**_

The next morning, I woke up with a headache.

No, wait, I didn't wake up with a headache – I woke up with some kind of fucking imaginary ugly _shithead_ standing next to my bed, repeatedly slamming a huge hammer down on my head like it was nobody's business.

While _cackling_!

Like a… a crow!

Yes! A crow! A big, _fat_, cackling crow with a sore throat and the ability to swing around with massive hammers like it were plastic baby-hammers (while it certainly didn't feel like one when it hit you on the freaking _skull_) instead!

…

…

…what the hell, Lovino. Just… just what the _hell_. Thinking about crows frolicking around with hammers. WHY, just WHY. Shit was disturbing as fuck.

Ouch… Oh, my poor, poor head was _throbbing_. No wonder – it was _way_ too early to have trippy creatures dancing around in my mind. Not that that there was _ever_ a good time for that (and it certainly wouldn't stop those fantasy-fucktards from doing it anyway), but still… not _now_. I really didn't want this right _now._

Fucking shit…

I groaned softly and didn't open my eyes as I lifted my hands from the somewhat sticky mattress and gently rubbed my temples, trying hard to ignore the bonking and zooming that was going on just underneath it.

Yup – definitely a hangover. And a massive one, too. Ugh… must have been from that stupid, _devilish_ Russian milk, dammit…

…

…y-yeah, I remembered yesterday. Well, most of it. It amazed even _me_. I mean, I couldn't hold my liquor to safe my life. It was embarrassingly _easy_ to get me drunk and raging to do… whatever I _wanted _to do. That included stuff that was actually pretty damn _badass _to do. Yeah, that's right – me being as drunk as a skunk _could_ be kind of cool. For example, I vaguely remembered I had some sort of fight last night.

Imagine that! Me! Having a fight! And not even running away from it while cryi—being _extremely_ _manly_! Fucking cool!

…

What? Psssh, _screw_ _you_ whiny bitches – fighting **_is_** totally **_cool_**! Cool as hell!

No, wait…

Oh fuck it, you know what I mean, dammit.

But I had to admit… I wasn't _always_ cool when I had drunk too much. I knew I could also be really annoying and clingy when pissed – even more than I already _am_. For example: Antonio once told me about an evening (I think it was at the albino-freak's birthday party) during which I was bawling and slapping and kissing that Spanish idiot in turns after the albino potato-fucker and his French fuckfaced friend had sneakily given me some heavy German shitty fuckbeer instead of the light wine I had asked for…

'_Ahahaha!~ Oh, you were such a perverted asshole on Gilbert's party!~ You just wouldn't stop swearing and humping my leg!~'_

…

…

Yeah. That was a great story.

In fact, it was _such_ a great story, I'd fucking _shoot _the Spanish motherfucker's _head off_ if he had the guts to tell me (or anybody else!) that goddamn story just_ one more time_.

But hey… that was kind of like what had happened to me yesterday, wasn't it? Somebody must have spiked that freaky milk of mine… or switched it with another weird drink… and I seriously didn't know _who_ had done it, but for some reason, the none-too-pleasant image of that bitch Belarus kept popping up in my mind…

…oh well – I had survived all of yesterday, so whatever. The hell I cared.

I yawned loud and finally opened my eyes – very carefully though: first the left one, then the other one, bit by bit…

_~*SHINE!*~_

_**Gah**__! _

I growled and quickly closed my eyes again, whining and rubbing them ferociously - yeah, that's right: _ferociously_!

_God_! Fucking stupid bastard fierce sunlight of shitting terror _blinded_ me, dammit!

…

Hmrrrf. Oh well, what the heck. I guess I'd just have to keep my eyes closed for a bit longer now… you know, until the sun was shining a bit less brightly or something…

_Haa_…

I stretched my arms and felt myself relaxing some more, something that made me smile weakly. Yeah. This was nice. I _felt_ nice. Still, I could be feeling _nicer_. It probably wouldn't hurt if I tried to ease my evil headache by... well, let's say... napping. Right?

Yup. Sleeping was definitely good for body and soul. So I _should_ do that. And I _would_ do that. Right away. Like, _now_.

…

…

…u-um.

B-but if I really wanted to _sleep_ as in… _sleeping_ and shit, I… I needed…

…I needed…u-um...

…

...h-him.

**xXx**

The blood that quickly rushed to my cheeks as I nervously patted the mattress around me, was painful and too hot to handle for my face, especially considering the fact that my head was still spinning because of my horrible hangover. But there was nothing could do about it, so… yeah. Sucks to be me.

My hasty movements over the bed continued and I frowned deeply when I only felt sheets and linen and other kinds of uninteresting stuff rushing underneath my hands.

T-the hell? I didn't _want_ to feel only stupid sheets and lame linen, d-dammit…

For God sakes, wh-where _was_ he… where the f-fuck was that… that dense moron… god, always playing annoying tricks on me like this…

I grumbled and turned to lay myself on my side (back facing the _burning and melting __**fire-hot OH GOD**_ sunlight), opening my eyes a teeny-weeny bit once again, peeking around me through half-lidded eyes. Now, where was that asshole, dammit…

Fortunately, I spotted the sleeping Spaniard right away: he was also lying on his side, just a little further away from me than usual, snoring with wide-open mouth and a crooked, dopey smile on his face.

…

S-still, the hellish sunlight behind me – that shone down on his _gorgeous_ naked body and made his tanned skin glow like some heavenly and _very_ sexy kind of being – sure looked… _good_ on him… o-oh yes. Yes…

Even when he was drooling like that.

I huffed and blushed even more, pulling the sheets covering me a bit higher as I sneakily wriggled my body in order to move closer to him – which actually worked pretty damn well. Yay for being inventive with limbs in the morning.

Anyway, as… as I approached him, I tried to figure out what my next move would be.

I-I mean, Antonio was _sleeping_. If I was going to lie in front of him, with this fucking _scowl_ _of_ _death_ on my face and this stupid sheet pulled up all the way to my chin, there wouldn't happen... much. He probably _wouldn't_ wake up all of a sudden, understand what was going on and… and pull me into those n-nice arms of his while whispering sweet things to me... and I know I couldn't _stare _him awake. Nope. Had already tried that one out last week – nothing had happened.

…

N-now what, dammit… D-did _**I**_ really had to… had to snuggle myself against him? M-move against him, wrap his numb arms around me, wrap my own arms around him as well, mutter something embarrassing like "I love you so much" to his ungodly handsome face and go to sleep? Like that?

…

B-but I didn't want to do that!

I made a choked, "tch!"-kind of sound and groaned, feeling a bit upset. Yeah, I get it, I needed to man up every once in a while and shit, b-but… b-but I really didn't _feel _like manning up right _now_, dammit…

C-come on, give me a fucking break… my head hurt, my neck hurt, my arms hurt, my face hurt and my eyes hurt… f-from those freaking dumb unshed fag-tears, burning just behind my eyelids.

Ugh… I sniffled and harshly rubbed my eyes again, since the fucking tears started to blur my sight.

Goddammit… g-goddammit…

I… I _really_ needed to be pampered right now… I—

'Lovi…?'

I immediately snapped my eyes open.

'A-Antonio…?'

…

…

W-why the _hell_ did that bastard always happen to be conveniently _awake_ at times like this, dammit?

…

N-not that I complained…

**XxX**

My heartbeat sped up a bit when I saw (or at least _think_ I saw – fucking tears ruined my view, dammit) Antonio's big, shiny green orbs, giving me a sleepy, but loving glance.

'Ah… good-morning, sweetie…'

…

S-_sweetie_?

I spread my eyes even more and flushed bright red, furrowing my brows.

'…t-the fuck, don't call me "sweetie", you q-queerbag…'

'_Queerbag_? Ah… that one's new, isn't it? Ahaha… how original… me calling you "sweetie", you calling me "queerbag"...if _that_ isn't love, I don't know it anymore...'

Antonio smiled affectionately, gently touching my face and wiping away the tears that trickled down my cheek.

I didn't push his hand away and growled softly. '…s-shut up. Just feel happy I didn't call you by one of those _other_ very insulting names I had in store for you, d-d-dammit!'

'Hmmm… ah, I know, I know…' Antonio stretched his arms out above him and yawned, before giving me his full attention again and moving towards me some more.

He smiled again. 'Now, tell me… what's the matter, my sweet love… why are you crying, hm? Want me to help you fall asleep?~'

'B-bastard. S-stupid bastard…' I mumbled, nodding while looking at him with a look so utmost _lovestruck _that it would have made me _loath_ if I wasn't already too busy… you know, longing for the damn asshole and all.

Antonio got kind of flustered himself as well when he saw my sad/agitated/dreamy expression and chuckled delightedly, grabbing the thin sheets on either side of me to pull me closer to him.

'H-hey.' I protested lamely, letting it happen with a shaky, blissful sigh.

'Ah, aren't you _lovely_, Lovi… so lovely…' He laughed softly, pressing my body against his, with sheets and everything, '…ah, and you seriously wonder why I called you "sweetie"? You're so funny, my love…'

'I'm not…' I murmured in a quiet voice and tugged some part of the sheets loose, making sure to cover him as well as I shyly sneaked my arms around his strong torso and uttered a _certain_ sentence with a _certain_ word in it that started with a "d" to his chest.

Antonio still heard, though.

He froze up and fell silent for a few seconds. I felt him breathing out slowly, carefully, his chest rising and falling while a soft, regular thumping became louder and faster.

'L-Lovino…'

'…hnnm?'

'Please. Please call me that name again.'

His unstable hands cupped my face and tilted it up, bringing it closer to his own, flustered one. His eyes were fucking _sparkly_, dammit, and it made him look _disgustingly_ handsome, maybe even more disgustingly handsome th-than… than that spunky Spaniard already _was_. Also, it causes my knees and, w-well, actually all of my legs _in_ _general_ to tremble and twitch like a fucking spazz, g-goddammit…

He pressed a soft, but also almost desperate kiss on my mouth, the wonderful, tender feeling making me clench my hands into tight fists, and I responded by saying that… t-that _stupid_, _lame_, _gayish_ and very very _honestly meant_ pet-name of mine, breathing it onto his lips as they parted with mine.

'D-darling… I-I fucking called you "darling", dammit…'

'Lovi…' Antonio choked and hugged me some more.

'I-I wanted to say it… just… just this once… twice… f-fine, _trice_…' I stammered, since I thought I owned him an explanation, and splayed my hands on his back, wincing the slightest of bits when my fingertips ghosted over that particular huge scar on his shoulder-blades.

'L-Lovi…' he said again, before grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me forwards for another, noticeable more passionate kiss that made my head spin around even faster.

Oh, but how nice the feeling, the _taste_ was...

For me, _this_ was what love felt and tasted like. Just this kiss. Nothing else.

'Since… I… y-you deserve it, o-okay…' I panted softly, shortly after pulling back, timidly smiling a no-doubt very weird little smile as I kept our faces close enough to allow our noses to touch, '…y-you really did…'

'Lovi... Lovi, Lovi…' Antonio blushed, grinning excitedly. I could see his eyes were unusual puffy when he gave me another peck.

'D-don't – _hmn_ – get – _nmf_ – used to the – _mgn_ – freaking word, though – _ngh…_' I warned between _fucking heavenly_ kisses that the s-stupid moron repeatedly started showering down on my face.

'Ah, oh no, Lovi… you don't have to say it anymore… I'll relish this moment for the rest of my life, so…'

I stared at him. 'T-that's… that's awfully long.'

'It is…~'

'…I… I guess I'll say it a few more times then… hell, maybe I'll even call you the d-word once a year from now on.'

Antonio squealed. 'Ah, how very _generous _of you!~'

'Y-yeah, that's just the kind of guy I am.' I said, smiling and hugging him a bit.

'Oh yes, certainly! But, Lovi… ah, Lovi, Lovi…'

The Spaniard gladly accepted my hug and buried a hand in my messed-up hair, twirling some of it around his fingers – no, not _that _strand of hair, 'cause I hated getting boners because of that _this_ early in the morning… even though it probably wasn't early in the morning anymore, let alone morning _at_ _all_.

…

I needed to cut back on the philosophy-books.

'…ah, you could _also_ say the d-word to me right after you've said the y-word, my love…' Antonio suddenly suggested.

I lifted my face from his chest for a second and raised an eyebrow.

'What are you talking about?'

He smiled and shook his head, pressing my face back against him.

'You'll see… ah, oh yes, you'll see.'

**xXx**

Not before too long after all of this, I fell asleep.

Antonio did as well: he immediately dozed off, as soon as we stopped talking and kissing and nuzzling and doing other incredibly faggish things that I loved doing with him – but I would never ever _ever_ admit this out loud to him, _never_, unless he asked me.

…

…

A-anyway…

I had expected Antonio to fall asleep before I would. I mean, _hell_, no way I could beat a fucking _Spanish_ _Spaniard_ in a snooze-contest. But I was perfectly okay with that, since I followed him soon after anyway, enjoying the weight of his arms around me and loving the soothing warmth of his chest in the last seconds before I let myself slip away in unconsciousness.

Hmmn…

F-fucking bastard felt s-so comfortable…

**XxX**

I think it was about… hmm, well, in any case way past lunchtime when I woke up again.

B-by Antonio.

W-who had… um.

…

K-kissed me awake.

Really.

I…I was dreaming about… oh, no doubt _very_ fucked-up things that would have made Freud roll over the floor from laughter (that old, dead, perverted son of a bitch, dammit), when I had suddenly felt a light, sweet pressure on my lips.

Now, I… I didn't know _what_ I was dreaming about, but I knew one thing – that feeling _didn't_ fit into my dream's context. Not at all. I-it just was way too fluffy for my incredibly _tough, __**hurr,**__ let's stuff our faces with manly muscular meals and flirt with some fluttering chicks and talk really loudly when answering our phone-calls 'cause for some reason we think it makes us look __**awesome **__when we answer phone-calls all arrogantly like that even though it really doesn't, __**hurr**__ – _dream.

…yeah.

…

Um, so I had woken up.

First thing I discovered upon waking: I was lying on my back very neatly. You know, the sheets covering me really precise- and nicely, my folded hands saintly – you read that right: _saintly_ – resting on my stomach…

…

…a-and something _else _was resting on my stomach as well. Or should I say, _someone _else. Who kept giving me little kisses.

_Peck kiss peck kiss kiss peck._

Short and quick and a whole lot of them.

…

I-it felt very nice.

Finally, I actually decided to open my eyes to see where all of that niceness came from, and I wasn't surprised to see an awfully happy Antonio lying on top of me – what's new, really – propped on his elbows (and _ouch_, bastard was fucking _elbow-stabbing_ me, dammit), all dressed up and stuff, his lower body perfectly placed in-between my legs.

'Good-morning again, my love!~' Antonio greeted me, tearing his face off mine – but just a bit – now that I was awake, '…or should I say, good afternoon?~'

I stared up at him.

'…y-you kissed me awake.'

'I did!' Antonio laughed softly, '…I should always wake you up like this!~'

I swallowed. I had the strangest urge to kick and kiss the cocky bastard to death, but pretended I hadn't heard him and cleared my throat.

'A-anyway… what time is it?'

'Hm… I think it's past two o'clock, Lovino…' he muzed, smiling fondly at me as he lowered himself to kiss me again. I just… j-just squeezed the sheets, enjoying the kiss in silence and kissing back.

Then Antonio pulled away again, chuckling, panting, carefully running his thumb over my way too plump bottom lip.

'…ah… just a minute, Lovi… tell me, how are you feeling?'

'F-fine, I guess…' I frowned, trying to glare at his thumb – but I couldn't and _damn_, it sure _hurt_ to move your eyes all weirdly like that.

'Yes?' He blushed and looked at me worriedly, '…how's your butt doing, then?'

My frown became deeper and more sinister as I leered at him.

...oh no he _didn't_. He did _not_ just ask me how my fucking _ass _was doing. I mean, what the hell? Did he expect me to flip over, show him my rear and let my ass say something along the lines of "well, jolly good fellow, how very nice of you to ask! If only you were this considerate of me yesterday – you know, when you fucked me senseless and all – then I wouldn't have to kill you right now!"

And then my butt would kill him.

…

It would be fucking _epic_.

…

Ugh… I sure hoped this was still my hangover talking…

Meanwhile, Antonio just continued blabbering like the oblivious idiot that he was.

'Ah, it's just, we were really _going_ _at it _yesterday, you know? You and your bottom were so _eager_!~ God, it was amazing!'

'Antonio.' I hissed.

He smirked and deliberately ignored me. 'You have to know, I had tried to control myself, Lovi, I really did, but you just felt so _wonderful_—'

'_Antonio_.' I repeated, voice a bit shriller.

'Ah, so that's why I couldn't help making love with you somewhat more aggressively than usual—'

RAAH!

With a jolt (and a roar of frustration, lower-back-pains and embarrassment), I made myself sit upright a bit more, head-butting him in the process – and _damn, _did it feel _good_.

'My GOD, Antonio, how many times do I have to scream your name until you keep your damn _face_, you asshole!' I snapped at the Spaniard, slamming a hand in his face to push him away from me.

He pouted – I could feel he did.

'But Lovi, I'm just – _ouch! _– I'm just worried about you…'

'Oh yeah? Well… well, aside from that, you're also a queerbag!' I stupidly said, since I really didn't know anything better to say to that.

'Lovino…' Antonio sighed and plucked my hand off his face, '…I'm being serious here, sweetie. I… um… I didn't hurt you yesterday, did I?'

I… um.

I got quiet and looked at his hand clutching mine, slowly turning it _so_ until my hand fell perfectly into his.

'…y-yesterday was nice.' I heard myself mumble bluntly.

Antonio started to glow and scooted even closer to me.

'Yes?~ Y-you thought so as well?'

'I-I won't say it again, dammit!' I snarled angrily, but naturally (yup – _naturally_) didn't move an inch when he leaned towards me and pressed a small kiss on my cheek.

'You don't have to say it again, my lovely love… I heard you the first time…'

'Good for you, d-d-dumbass…' I grumbled shyly, stubbornly, looking him in the eyes with a hopefully very burning, _fizzling _expression on my face, 'cause _you bet_ I could be just as hot as him, dammit.

Unfortunately, Antonio didn't get it – of _course _he didn't get it – and beamed a clueless smile back at me, suddenly moving backwards again and giving a soft squeeze to my hand.

'Hey, you think you could get dressed and come downstairs, Lovino?~'

…

My face fell.

Well. My move sure was a _fizzle_, alright.

**XxX**

I gave the Spaniard in front of me a suspicious glance, pulling up the sheets a bit higher since I didn't want to show my Italian nakedness to him, even though there probably wasn't anybody in this world who had seen me naked as many times as he had.

But still! _Principles_, dammit! Got to stick with them!

'Okay…' I said, narrowing my eyes as I observed the bouncy, blushing Spanish nation sitting on the bed, '…what do you have up your sleeve, you ass? Why do I have to get dressed? I don't want to get dressed! Hell, I don't want to get up at all!'

'But you have to!' Antonio insisted, that damn pout appearing on his face again.

I folded my arms. 'Give me _one_ good reason why!'

At that, the pout changed into a soft, tender smile.

'Because I'm planning to go back to Spain today, Lovino – and since you're my very important lover, so are _you_.'

I blinked, taken by surprise.

'Wait, you want to go back to Spain?'

'Ah, yes.' Antonio admitted, '…because I feel a lot better again and I miss our House. And our tomato-plants… and ah, our romantic evenings on the balcony…'

I tried to ignore my once again _burning_ cheeks. 'W-what the… d-don't call it _our_ House, d-dammit—'

'But it _is_, Lovi.' he calmly interrupted me.

I bit my lower lip.

'…nnm.'

'You _know _it is.'

'Hmnm.'

'And I want to go back to it, my love – with _you_.'

He smiled timidly at me and also grabbed my other hand, holding on to them gently.

'Ahaha!~ So yes… um… would you… ah…'

I couldn't suppress an amused grin when I saw him stammering and staring at me like that and nodded – maybe a bit too much.

'Okay, stop fucking soft-soaping me, you wussy bastard, I get it already. And… and of course I'll come with you.'

Antonio's head jolted up in delight. 'You will?~'

Hmm. I bit back an insulting remark about him and his pointless insecurity and gave him another patient nod instead.

'Yup. Why not.'

'Great!~'

Antonio smiled broadly and pulled my hands to his chest, gazing at me with caring, infatuated eyes.

'…oh, you make me so happy, Lovi, so very happy – I just don't know what to do with it…'

'T-that's nice.' I stuttered, moving my hands away of his torso after sneakily feeling up his hunky chest for a short while, '…n-now, just let me get dressed already.'

The Spaniard gleamed with joy and looked like he had just won the lottery.

…

Oooh. I _see_ what he did there.

Yeah, _tough luck_, Antonio, you fucking douchebag.

I snorted, pulled up the sheets like the prude that I was and pointed to the door.

'Nice try, asshole. But if you don't get your perverted ass out of here within ten seconds, I'll throw you out of the fucking window.'

He frowned and raised a hand.

'_Before_ or _after_ your reversed strip-tease, Lovino?'

…

And then he had to flee.

**xXx**

Several minutes and a random smack on the stupid Spaniards head (with a spoon!) later, Antonio and I drove off in Antonio's worthless, old, dingy and for some reason completely _brand-less_ car, away from my and Feliciano's shared House.

Yeah…

Everything happened surprisingly fast after I had dressed myself and gone downstairs.

Apparently, Antonio had already prepared all kinds of things (like drinks, food etc.) for our trip back to Madrid and he had also packed (read: _thrown_) the few belongings he had taken with him from Spain into the car.

He had a very nice explanation for it, too.

'Ah, I did all of that when you were sleeping, Lovino! You see, after I had fallen asleep with you that second time, I only slept for a hour, and then I woke up again and _boom_, this incredible longing for Spain suddenly came to mind… and so, I decided to untangle myself from you – wasn't easy, you kept grabbing my butt – and I made sure the car and stuff would be prepared after you would wake up. And you know the rest!~'

…

Damn. Bastard could be scarily well-prepared if he wanted something to happen.

...

Well, anyway…

After I had listened to Antonio's explanation (and put the spoon back), said good-bye to Feliciano (who was giving me surprisingly exhausted and nasty glares for reasons I'd rather forget) and made sure my bedroom door was locked, Antonio and I hopped into the car/coughing-shit-on-wheels and took off.

And so, we drove back to Spain.

**xXx**

…

Huh…

Wish I could say something good/special about the trip, but there wasn't anything good/special to say about it.

I mean, what could I say? Antonio was annoying and chatty, I was moody and complaining about… well, almost _everything_, and the weather was kind of nice. That's it.

Besides, I knew the way to Antonio's nation by heart – and thought it was boring as hell – so… mweh. Didn't want to say something about it.

…

Okay, okay. Maybe I could tell just a little bit about the surroundings, then.

Lots of yellow grass. Lots of blue skies. Lots of… road. And sunshine.

Yeah.

Nothing special about fucking Spain.

…

Except for Antonio.

H-he was very special.

…

But if you're thinking I'm going to give a detailed description of _him_, fuck the hell off.

He's private property anyway.

**xXx**

…

…

Okay…

Something… _definitely_ wasn't quite _right_ here.

That was the first thought that rushed through my head, right after we had arrived at the Spaniard's House and got out of the car.

…

I mean, there was this small group of fat, _extremely_ Caucasian people with sunburns and ugly hats, sunglasses and shirts wobbling around Antonio's House, laughing loudly at some of the beautiful sculptures in Antonio's garden.

'What the fuck?' I exclaimed, slamming the door of the car shut – maybe a bit too harsly, maybe because I was secretly hoping to smash the fucking piece of crap apart like this.

Antonio got out of the car (and it was still standing – goddammit) as well, scratching his head confusedly.

'I have guests? _Human_ ones?'

'Those aren't humans, Antonio…' I muttered, '…those are _tourists_.'

He gave me a questionable look.

'Tourists, Lovino?'

I nodded earnestly.

'Yes - _tourists_. People from other countries who come over to _our_ countries to eat, sleep and buy useless crap from our markets.'

'Ah…' Antonio nodded slowly, but I bet my ass he still didn't know shit about tourists.

…

Well, with his (still vulnarable) financial status, no _wonder_ he didn't.

An obnoxiously loud voice coming from the small crowd, somewhere near a splendid sculpture of Picasso (replica of "Head of a Woman", if you really want to know), suddenly caught our attention.

'Haha! Oh man, I don't know _what _the meaning is of this crazy thing, but it sure as hell is funny! You! Ugly fat guy! Take a picture of me and that thing! And make it _heroic_!'

…

…

'Is that…?' Antonio asked, glancing at me.

I...

I could only nod.


	36. Cheeks II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: You already guessed it – America has made his appearance!~ Why would he be hanging out in Spain? Could it have something to do with Lovi's upcoming visit to England?  
_…  
_Of course._^^

_A/n2: I really, really hope you'll like "my" America… and I also hope you keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. I mean, there __**is**__ a possibility that I didn't put America down the way some of you might had wanted me to – since I'm not American… __and__ since __I've never written him before, so… well, bear with me! _^^;;; _After all, I don't want to insult anybody…  
Also – the tourists are European, NOT American (probably because I've never seen an American tourist in my life before). __But boy, judging by your responses on the last chapter, I do wonder what American tourists are like! _XDDDD

_A/n3: LOL, I have at least three nursery rhymes as titles for my chapters right now… ah, I should feel ashamed, but I don't want to. _XDDDD _BTW, the song I have as chapter-title looks a lot like the song "Hoofd, Schouders, Knie en Teen" (Head, Shoulders, Knee and Toe) I know from my younger days._^^ _Ah, I loved that song… and the little dance that was part of it as well!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXIV:

_**Forehead, Eyes, Cheeks, Nose, Mouth and Chin  
**__**(Nursery Rhyme**__**)**_

Anyway.

As Antonio and I walked closer to the group of tourists, we noticed it _indeed_ was no one other than that fucking dickhead America, standing in between the flabby fatties with one arm draped around Piscasso's famous work of art while the other one was raised up high. His hand (predictably) showed the famous V-sign and there was this huge grin on his face that would have scared the shit out of me if it hadn't been _America_ who was smiling that grin.

_Psssh_. Hell, I was scared of pretty much the whole wide world, but _not_ of him.

…

I was strange, wasn't I? 'Cause I probably _should _be scared of him.

…

But I wasn't. Peppy persons weren't scary. Not even when they had enough power to destroy the world.

…

I really _was _fucking strange. Damn.

'Okay! Stand back everybody! Say cheese, mister Jones!' some shapeless fatass wielding a camera suddenly exclaimed – and all of the other shapeless fatasses quickly backed off, giggling and chuckling the way all tourists do when they are excited.

'AMERICAN BRICK CHEESE!' America immediately yelled, making some startled birds fly away, and winked at the camera.

_Click!~_

…

Okay…

Antonio and I stopped approaching them and observed the cheering bunch of losers from a safe distance, wondering what to do. Well, at least _I_ was.

'What the hell is that burger-eating bastard doing in Spain, besides _dissing _wonderful pieces of Spanish art with his overweighed friends? Shit, I ought to hit that asshole…' I heard myself grumble, putting my hands in my pockets.

'Ah… who knows?' Antonio shrugged and gave me a friendly, sideway glance.

I hated it when he did than since I loved it when he did that, so I blushed brightly and quickly turned my face away from him, kicking a pebble.

'D-don't flirt with me in public, dammit.'

He laughed softly. 'I'm not flirting…'

'You're _always_ fucking flirting, you bastard.'

'Can I hold your hand?~'

…

W-what the flying _fuck_?

I immediately looked up at him and shoved a finger in his face.

'Y-you sneaky asshole, you're doing it _again_! Stop it!'

Antonio seemed to be genuinely confused and squeezed on eye shut when my feisty finger almost poked it out.

'Hmm? I was just asking if I could hold your hand, Lovino… Something wrong with that?'

'You… I… um, no, but… _ngh_—' I gritted my teeth and flushed, slowly pulling my hand back, '…w-why would you ask that _now_, you…you moron… I mean, shit, your timing is awful…'

He cocked his head and pouted.

'Awful timing? Ah… silly Lovi, this hasn't got anything to do with timing. We're in _Spain_, my love – there is no such thing as "timing" here, we just go with the flow, do whatever what feels _right_!~'

'That… that actually makes so much sense, it almost scares me.' I realized – out loud.

'It does?'

'Oh yes. I even get the feeling that I might understand you and your fucked-up ways a little bit better now. Is that wrong? Should I be worried?'

Man, my (default) sarcasm-mode was on _fire_ today.

But Antonio wasn't offended or anything: he just chuckled lightly and shuffled closer to me, his hand brushing mine.

'Ah, the only thing you should be doing is opening your hand for me, Lovi – I can't hold it like this.'

He carefully ran a teasing finger over some of my own, making me forget all about my saucy comments and feel all giddy and tingly inside instead.

I swallowed a lump and gave in to his playful flirtations, nodding. 'A-alright then… sheesh… w-whatever…'

Eventually (yeah – it took some time), I relaxed my fingers and let Antonio's hand completely cover mine, my heart fluttering when I felt how he softly intertwined our fingers together.

'Thank you…' Antonio whispered and beamed another cheerful smile at me, rubbing his thumb over some of my trapped fingers.

'Y-you're welcome…' I muttered back and did the same to _his_ fingers, only a bit more hesitantly.

U-ugh…

Damn bastard always grabbed every single opportunity to charm and sweet-talk me… I-I mean, not even a garden full of tourists and that dumbass America fucking around could prevent him from… from _appreciating_ me, d-dammit…

The Spaniard sighed gently and turned my face back to his with the lightest of touches when I tried to observe the tourists again, obviously wanting me to look at him, _only_ at _him,_ just a little longer.

'Ah… this is nice, isn't it, my love…'

'I-it is.' I admitted, eyelids getting heavier as Antonio leaned towards me and cast a shadow over my face… and then… and then…

'Making out in a garden full of unknown people who can watch you do just that. Wow, really? You guys sure are kinky.'

…

…

_GAH_!

**xXx**

I snapped my head to the side (_ouch!_) and violently jerked my hand away from Antonio's the second I realized America was (suddenly, out of the fucking _blue_!) standing _riiiiight_ in front of us, chewing down some big, brown cookies as he watched us amusedly.

As for me, I wasn't amused _at_ _all_.

'W-What the HELL, you bastard! Don't go sneaking up on us like that, you creep!' I shrieked, pushing a very disappointed Antonio backwards.

'I wasn't sneaking up on you, Older Brother of Italy – I just wanted to say hi to you guys!' America said, his big blue eyes shiny and annoying the crap out of me, and pushed the bag of cookies back in his jacket, '…but hey, how was I supposed to know you two were smooching from _that _distance? I have bad eyesight, don't you know.'

'You're wearing _glasses_! They should be _improving_ your damn eyesight, _especially_ from that distance!' I snarled, '…and… and _don't_ fucking call me "Older Brother of Italy", you ass! I have a name too!'

'Well, anyway, you sure have a nice little garden here, Spain!' America said, turning to Antonio and _completely _ignoring my angry huffs and puffs.

Antonio didn't like America very much, but forced himself to smile at him anyway. 'You like my garden? Ah, thank you.'

'Yeah! Really nice with the freaky statues and sculptures and all. Artsy. Yup, I like that. Artsy stuff and all. Makes me think of… um, things.' The blond guy nodded absentmindedly – and then he _yawned_.

Yes!_ YAWNED_!

A little vein popped up on a rather annoyed Antonio's forehead, and his smile became even faker – not to mention _scarier_.

'You disturbed our romantic moment.' he told America.

'Hey, did you know I went to your country by _**bus**_?' America grinned, unaware of Antonio's growing creepiness, pointing a finger up to the sky as if he wanted to say the fucking bus _came from the freaking sky_, '…I think the name of the bus company was _Arriva_ or something! Yeah, it was totally awesome! We departed from London and then we went all around these cute little countries of Europe to pick up other very random people on our way to Spain, who are now my friends! All of them!'

'_All_ of them?' I repeated.

'Haha! Yes! All of them! Too bad I've forgotten most of their names, though.' America mused, tapping a finger against his chin as a tubby woman waved at him.

'Wait for it... it's on the tip of my tongue... the very tip of my tongue...'

…

Antonio and I… just… just stared at him and didn't know what to say. Also, my hand was feeling uncomfortably empty.

'America.' Antonio all of a sudden said, voice stern and irritated while the smile was _still_ plastered on his face, '…what are you doing here?'

America looked at him with a blank expression, as if he had stupidly forgotten why he had come here in the first place. But he couldn't fool me – I could tell he knew perfectly well why he was visiting Spain, since he kept giving me small, mysterious glances.

I blinked when I saw that. Huh?

'What I'm doing here? Well… um, I've come here to give you some… tourists, Spain!' America then said, making a big "tadaaah!~"-gesture with his arms wide open.

'You still disturbed our romantic moment.' Antonio smiled.

'So… so you… came to give him tourists.' I repeated America, keeping a close eye on Antonio('s vein) and gripping the hem of his shirt – just in case.

'Yeah!' America nodded, once again conveniently ignorant of the awkward ambiance.

'Those people aren't American tourists, though.' I pointed out, looking at the happy, photographing hippo's behind the American, '…you told so yourself – they're Europeans.'

'No! I mean, yes! That's true! But some of them have family in America! I think.' He frowned.

'Yeah, well… oh, never mind, dammit…' I rolled my eyes. Douchebag.

Then I remembered something.

'By the way, America, did you just say you departed from _London_?'

He smiled broadly. 'That's what I said, yes!'

'As in… _England's_ London?'

'Well, as far as I know, none of _my _Londons have bus companies in Europe. And I have a lot of Londons. Truckloads full of Londons. I might even grow them in my back garden. Yup. So… yeah, I meant Iggy's!'

I raised a brow. 'That means… you were in England this morning, America?'

America looked surprised and laughed. '_Damn_, they were right about you, Older Brother of Italy – you _are _shockingly rude! That's a lot of private information you're asking for, you Italian pervert!'

My jaw dropped. 'Wha—?'

'But if you really want to know, _yes_. I totally was in England this morning. Haha! God, you're so _dirty_, Older Brother of Italy! Who would have thought!'

'No, you don't understand, I-I really didn't mean _that _kind of… ugh…'

I slapped the palms of my hands into my face – _foolishly _releasing Antonio's shirt in the process.

'No, it's okay!' America continued in the meantime, '…Please! Be as pervy as you want! At least now I know for sure I'm nowhere near that English prude anymore!'

And then, Antonio suddenly laughed.

But not _just_ a laugh. Nooo, it was the friendly, careless kind of laugh you wanted to run _away from __**really really FUCKING **__**FAST**_.

'Ah, America. First you disturb our romantic moment with those tourist-people and your _face_, then you make useless comments concerning a _certain~_ nation whose limbs I'd like to _**snap off**_ with my _**teeth**_…'

He turned around.

'Ahahaha… That's it!~ Time to fetch my halberd!~'

Whoa, whoa!

'No! _No_ halberd-fetching! _Fuck_ the fucking halberd, dammit!' I snarled, alarmed, pulling him back and grabbing one of his hands steadfastly.

Luckily, Antonio immediately seemed to calm down and looked down to our joined hands in surprise.

'A-ah?...'

'You're staying right _here_! Got it? _Here_!' I insisted with a hiss, blood rushing to my cheeks as I bore my eyes into his, '…am I _clear _to you, darling?'

WHAT.

…

_FUCK_.

Antonio seemed to _paralyze_, right on the spot. At least I know _**I**_ did.

'N-no, no! A-Antonio! I meant to say Antonio, Antonio!' I sputtered hasty – no, _hysterically_, trying to save some of my long-lost virgini— n-no, _dignity_, dammit.

It was no use though – the Spaniard's face was already _oozing_ _fucking goddamn happiness_.

…

…w-well, I guess… I guess that was kind of nice to see, maybe… so… y-yeah…

'L-Lovino…' Antonio cooed, looking even more flawle— **GAH **I mean _stupid_ (all those fucking slips of the tongue – looks like not only my _sarcasm_ was on fire today, dammit) than usual as a real, honest smile slowly appeared on his sinfully handsome face.

'…ah… calling me darling again… and saying my human name so many times… and even _outside_ of the bedroom… I-I feel like I'm _flying_…~'

'I'm bored.' America said.

He was effectively ignored.

Antonio took a better hold of my hand, chuckling as he watched me grumbling and groaning and _mentally_ _killing_ _myself_ from embarrassment.

'Alright, alright… I get it. I'll behave, my love. Okay?~ Easy now.'

'G-go to hell!' I weakly head-butted his chest.

'I tried once.' He clacked his tongue. 'They don't want me back down there, though.'

I glared angrily up at him.

'_What_?'

'Hmm?~'

Antonio tried to keep a straight face, but he still looked like he was about to burst into laughter. Fortunately (for him), he managed to keep his fucking trap shut.

'Man, I'm so bored, I'm gonna cry.' America remarked again.

'Y-you fucked-up moron…' I mumbled to Antonio, _vengefully_ ignoring America – yeah, _that'll_ teach the bumbling bastard to call me "Older Brother of Italy" all the time, dammit – as I head-butted the Spaniard's chest again… but a bit _harder _this time.

'_Ouch_, Lovi!' Antonio made a face.

'S-shut up. If you think you're funny, you—'

'Ah, yes, I know, I know… that wasn't funny at all. Sorry, Lovino…'

He laughed, carefully brushing some of my hair out of my face to kiss me on the side of it.

'Bastard…' I breathed quietly, but didn't do anything to prevent him from pressing soft, apologetic kisses on my face.

It felt good. So warm and cozy and—

'Oh, come _on_! Give me a break already!' America then exclaimed in disbelieve, all of a sudden standing a lot closer to us than he did before, '…look, if wanted to see two blushing homo's acting all lovey-dovey around each other, I would've watched some more boring English porn this morning, okay!'

Antonio looked up in mild annoyance.

'Oh, that's right – the loud guy! Ahahaha!~ He's still _**here**_.'

I instantly kicked him against the shin. 'Watch it, nutcase.'

'Oh. Wondering if I'm even still here, huh? Yeah, you _bet_ I'm still here!' The American huffed (yes, he actually _huffed_, complete with puffy cheeks and hands planted in his sides and all), '…and hey, I've got some news for you two – even though you are really getting on my nerves with your simmering Mediterranean hotness, or whatever it is, I still won't leave until I've gotten some damn answers already!'

What the… I felt a big fat piece of anger building up in me in _high speed_ and so I growled, pushing Antonio off me again (b-but I kept his hand safely in mine).

'You want some _answers_? You fucking bastard, what kind of _questions _do you even _have_, dammit! I didn't hear them!'

'I got _lots_ of them, though!' America said.

'No you don't! You just said you came here to drop off some fat freaks, not to… to ask freaking _questions_!'

'Hey! Don't talk about my BFF's like that! They're just big-boned!'

'Oh, go fuck yourself!'

'_You _go fuck yourself!'

'Grrr!'

'GRRR!'

…

Yeah.

We could probably go on for hours like this.

And Antonio must have realized that, because he suddenly let go of my hand.

'…ahaha… right, I _really_ don't have the energy for this…'

…hm?

**xXx**

'Antonio? You okay?' I asked worriedly, for a moment distracted from the American (who was now sticking out his tongue at me – oooh, I was _so _going to flip that fucking asshole off later for that, yeah, I'd _show_ him and his tongue,_ dammit_).

Antonio gave a weak laugh to my surprised/startled/pissed-off face, gently patting me on the head.

'Ah, yes, I feel fine! You know, just a bit… drained. From all of this. So if you don't mind, Lovi, I'm going inside to open up some windows for some fresh air… oh, and I'll call the others to tell them I'm back home again…'

…

The "others" = the Big Three = France the Fuckface, Prussia the Albino-freak and Belgium the… Belgian.

Just so you know.

'Opening windows and calling weirdoes. Definitely sounds like a plan.' I said, grumbling softly as the Spaniard playfully ruffled my hair, '…yeah, you should go do all of that. But… u-um, do me a favor and go to bed after that. I think you need to take a break.'

Antonio nodded and beamed a small smile at me.

'Okay, Lovi.'

'J-just to make sure your fever doesn't come back all of a sudden, dammit.'

'Ah, don't you worry about that.'

'H-hmmn.' I experimentally nibbled on my upper lip. 'I… I _might_ be joining you in about a few minutes. Might.'

'Really?' Antonio blushed. 'That would be great, my love…'

'Y-yeah. N-now… just go already, dammit…'

'Sure!~ But first…'

Antonio grabbed my shoulders and moved his face closer to my own.

'Kiss?~'

…

'What… u-um… um…'

I didn't know if I should kick and/or smack him for such an intimate question or start giggling and/or bashfully fiddle my shirt, so I just let out a strangled groan and nervously turned to the American next to me, as if he could tell me what was the best thing to do.

America had just taken out another brownie (probably because of yet another sudden attack of acute boredom) and _snorted_.

'Oh no, _please_, take your time. Eat each other's _face_, for all I care. Just ignore me, your (by the way _very_ important) guest, fine by me.'

"You're _not _our guest, you fucking hobo!" I wanted to shout back at him, but didn't, since Antonio was getting impatient and squeezed my shoulders.

'Kiss, Lovi?~'

I pouted and glared at him for what I was worth, but in the end, I still gave in and leaned forwards a bit, eyes closed firmly when I pecked him on the lips.

_Peck._

'T-there. Happy now?' I grouched, quickly shoving the way too enthusiastic bastard back as soon as our mouths separated.

He grinned. 'Ah, yes! Happy as the sun, Lovi!'

'That sure is happy.'

'I know!'

'Go to your House already, bastard.'

'I will!'

'Good.'

'Well… um, I'll see you later then?~'

'…y-yes.'

'Great!~'

'…'

'…'

'…the hell are you waiting for _now_, you jerk…'

'…um, about that kiss, Lovi…'

'What about it?'

'Can I have another one?~'

'…g-goddammit, Antonio…'

**xXx**

Um.

…

…

Yeah…

I think yet another 30 minutes passed before Antonio _finally_ started walking to his/our/like-hell-I-cared-it-was-also-mine-or-not House, leaving me alone with bruised lips and a tall, blond, brownie-munching American, who, _yes_, was still there, apparently waiting for "some damn answers".

His "friends" were also still sneaking around. God, if those large assholes had the guts to mess up the garden, I'd kill them barefooted. Handed. Whatever worked best for me.

And then, America opened his yap.

'Man, about _time _that wacky Spaniard went back to the House! Haha! Oh, I thought he would never leave!'

…

The _fuck_?

'Hey!' I nagged, furrowing my brows when I looked at him, '…shut the _hell_ up about him, you ass! He's sick and shit – go easy on him!'

'Oh, he's _sick_, alright.' America nodded calmly, folding his arms behind his head.

I very dramatically pointed to my middle-finger.

'_Don't_ let me give you the one-finger salute again, bastard!'

'God, you're so _mean_.' America remarked with a sigh, '…you know, you kind of remind me of Iggy – you two are almost alike, except you're smaller and a bit more childish.'

'Says _you_!'

America raised an eyebrow and grinned. 'Maybe a _lot_ more childish.'

'Shut up!' I squawked, voice rather high-pitched, '…just tell me what the hell you're doing here in Spain already!'

America's eyes seemed to grow bigger. 'Um—'

'Because no way I'm buying that cute "coming-to-bring-you-tourists"-crap you came up with!'

'You didn't? Aww. And here I was, thinking I had come up with the perfect plan…'

He pouted, but then shrugged, already over the failure of his so-called "perfect" plan.

'Oh well, it wasn't meant to fool _you _anyway – just Spain. So I guess I can reveal the _real_ reason of my visit now.'

'About fucking _time_.' I grumbled, and hoped I was doing a good job at hiding my anxious curiosity – because _damn_, I had just discovered he _really_ had come to Spain in order to look **me** up.

…

Why the fuck would he (want to) do that?

**xXx**

America and I decided to walk over to one of the many stone benches in Antonio's garden to sit down on it – because no matter what kind of problems there were, it was always a good thing to sit down first.

…

…or so America said.

And so, we did. We sat down and observed the peacefully photographing tourists (didn't those people ever get bored or something?) for a short while, until the American rubbed his hands together and slapped them down on his knees, as if he wanted to say "and _now _I'm going to tell you something important!" or something along those lines... and so I gave him a look.

'Anytime you're ready, America.'

He smiled broadly. 'I'mready!'

Hyperactive moron. I rolled my eyes. 'Great. Fire away, then.'

'Okay… hold on a minute…' He cleared his throat and stretched out his already long legs, nonchalantly leaning an arm on the backside of the bench. After that, he glanced at me.

'First of all – I know of your plan. You know, to top that psycho-killer boyfriend of yours.'

I didn't even _flinch_. On the contrary – I just handwaved it away.

'Oh, _that_. Yeah, I'm not surprised you do. My exciting trip throughout Europe seems to keep the whole damn continent awake at night, so why not you Americans as well?'

America tore his slightly bewildered face away from two friendly-looking, but _extremely fat_ women frolicking around – in _skirts_ – and seemed to be astonished.

'_Everybody_ knows?'

'Yeah, I think so.'

'Even Spain?'

'_Heh_.' I smirked and shook my head. 'Antonio knows _fuck_.'

'Wow, that's weird. Are you _sure_ he doesn't know?' the blonde said.

'Yes, totally sure! I don't understand it either – I think he should have been aware of my plan by now, but nope, he's still as clueless as ever.'

'You're probaby not the brighest star in the sky either.'

I shot an angry look at him. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'I'm just saying.' America continued, '…but anyway, I know of your plan because Iggy told me. And Iggy got it from the Netherlands – I think he told him when the both of them were complaining to each other about Iceland, something about bursting ice-volcanoes and ashy mist and stuff like that…'

I twisted my lips awkwardly and cursed under my breath. Of _course _he told that English fucker. I mean, come on, this wasn't the _first _time that that fucking pothead had spilled the beans without my say-so, dammit…

'It really is a very good plan of yours, you know?' America said, no trace of mockery in his tone.

At that, I found myself at a loss of words and just eyed him wearily. God. America was the first who had actually said it was a _good _plan. Wow – _freaky_.

America's tone of voice now suddenly became stern.

'I'm _serious_! Hearing out all of Spain's dominating bedpartners to find out how to do it yourself – it's kind of brave. Not everybody would be _that_ determined to look high and low for a solution for a problem like that.'

'Um.' I dropped my eyes and rested my gaze on my fumbling fingers. '…it's not like… there's really a _problem_ with… Antonio topping me and all. I-it's not that I _dislike _it or anything… it's just… I'd like to be on top for once.'

…

What, expected me to _blush_ while saying it? _Fuck_ you, I've said it so many times already, I just didn't _feel_ like blushing at that anymore!

'I get it.' America nodded patiently, taking out the bag of cookies of his pocket, '…you just want to experience what _he _experiences. But you're not sure how to do it – so you go ask other nations! Brownie?'

'No, thanks.' I bent my mouth in a stiff smile.

'Next week, it's Iggy's turn to attempt to _inspire _you, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh.'

America suddenly became unsettling quiet. Even his way of stuffing his face with icky chocolate, brick-shaped cookies.

'Something wrong with that?' I frowned.

'Actually, _yes_.' America said, swallowing bits of brownie and flicking the remaining crumbles off his pants and sleeves, '…no offense, but it's almost like you don't know what Iggy—_England _had done to Spain in the past.'

My heart automatically tightened in my chest and I licked my lips.

O-of... of _course_ I knew about... _that_. W-well, not _everything_, but enough to realize it wasn't… it wasn't _nice_, this thing that had happened in the past…

Antonio… had _never_ told me the story about him and England and their rebellious pirating days. He always changed the subject whenever the painful memories were about to cut through his mind again during a conversation, or he laughed it off, or told me he had forgotten all about it – while flushing his damn ears off, because he knew he was lying to me. And Antonio didn't like lying to me. That's why he almost always failed at doing it.

_Almost _always.

'You look like you know what I mean – your face is as white as a sheet.' America pointed out, a concerned smile on his face.

'N-no _shit_, dumbass…' I growled, not even wondering why my heart seemed to throb in my _throat _all of a sudden, '…I-I _care_ about that fucking bastard. I… don't want him to feel unhappy. I want to make him as happy as possible, d-dammit…'

'Really now? And you think that _you_, visiting Spain's (former?) enemy, will make Spain happy? You think he wants that?' the American asked, snappy.

I…

I involuntary thought back to the day Antonio discovered I was planning to visit the Netherlands. It had been a long time since the last I had seen the Spaniard _that _pissed-off… god, and the stupid fight that followed… and then I found him back on my doorstep… and then his fever became _worse…_

'I know, dammit… I-I _know_ won't make him happy with visiting England,' I heard myself mumble, '…b-but I _have _to go. I _want _to go to England, no matter what.'

America's face was unreadable.

'Man.' He shook his head. '…I understand not being able to top your lover can be frustrating and I know Spain wasn't much better than him back then, but _god_, you're even willing to hear _England's _advice? The nation that hurt him _that_ badly? Just to be able to turn the tables in bed?'

I pulled up my legs and scowled, wrapping my arms around my knees.

'It's none of your business.'

'None of my business?' America spat, abruptly standing up from the bench, '…you think Spain and England's past is _none _of my business?'

I didn't respond.

'You're not the only one who's in love with a guy who has experienced more _hell_ in his life than the both of our lives two combined, Romano! I'm dating the _other_ piece of _shit_!'

Despite myself, I smiled a bit. Heh… looks like the fucker _did _know my name after all.

'Want to know why I'm here? Here's the reason: to stop you! One way or the other! God, I firstly thought even _you_ would be reasonable enough to understand why letting you and Iggy meet up with each other would be a stupid idea, but apparently, I was _wrong_.'

I still didn't say anything.

America took a deep breath.

'It doesn't matter – I _won't_ let you hurt our lovers! I won't allow you to ask for some fucking sex-tips from a man who has been _miserable _for over the last few weeks, just because he was dumb enough to agree in meeting with you! And I also _won't _let you hurt that traumatized Spaniard of yours, either! For God's sake, just leave them be!'

I hid my face in my knees and pretended to be unaware of America's angry, accusing eyes.

But I couldn't care less.

Because _no way _I was going to tell that meddling American that I was only planning to ask England for some damn explanations already. About his past. Antonio's past. _Spain's _past.

That was all I wanted to ask.

And since Antonio wasn't going to tell me, there was just one last option left for me – ask the nation who had a similar past.

Which was England.

…

Really, really selfish of me to go _that _far, only to get some answers, I know. Hell, I just realized _just that_, dammit.

That's why America wouldn't get it anyway: he'd rather _ignore_ his lover's dark side in order to be able to be around with him, to "leave him be".

I didn't want that.

I just wanted to _understand_ Antonio.

_Especially _his dark side.

And England would help me with that.

Just like all those other countries I had visited had helped me.

…

…wait a minute...

I thought about the last few sentences.

…

Understanding Antonio...

...was... was _that _the _real _goal of my...

...

...c-crap, now I'm confused, dammit...


	37. Backside II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Ah, I'm really tired lately… God, I can't stand it. Must be because of… well, this fic, of course, and because of school. It's not really going well at school at the moment. _:( _In fact, __**in about a few weeks, I'm forced to **__**skip a week of updating**__, since I'll have to turn some very important papers in, which are, up to this point, still not finished. So I need some all-nighters. Ugh… I hope my work will be good enough to make it to the fourth year of school. I really can't handle any more obstacles right now. _DX

_A/n2: …sorry for that – depressing A/n is depressing. _^^;;; _Still, don't worry: aside from school, I'm doing fine!~ To prove that, I've add some bonus-quasi-smut near the end. YAY!~_

_A/n3: Spain has been in the (bad) news again: looks like it's not going really smoothly over there. Unemployment, getting blamed for having dangerous germs on cucumbers and tomatoes (really – it already killed over 15 German people!), complaining students, demonstrations… Looks like Toni has got more to worry about than just his economy… _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXVII:

_**Backside  
**__**(Skybe4ts**__**)**_

I _really_ didn't feel like getting glared at by some chivalrous American for the rest of the already ruined afternoon – of whatever what time it was – so I did what I did best, aside from frowning and cursing:

Yes. I ran away.

I just… _took off_, as hard as I could and as soon as I saw the opportunity to do so.

(…which happened to be the exact moment a very round, red-faced man came our way to ask America if he wanted to shoot a picture of him and his tumbling family – and of _course _America wanted to help his nameless best friend, so I took my chance)

I think America must have yelled something to me as he fidgeted with the camera, but I didn't pay attention to it and just fled to Antonio's House, kicking open the door and slamming it shut right after. Then I leaned my back against the hard surface and slid down to the floor, gasping for breath and gripping my sweaty face in confusion.

It was true. I wanted to know Antonio better. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. So…

Was…

Was _that _what all of my trips were about?

To find out what made Antonio _Antonio_? What made Spain _Spain_? Really?

…

…gah. And here I was, thinking I was only doing it because I wanted to top him in bed…

…

But it makes sense. And, well, maybe I should be _glad_ I secretly had a more _sensible_ goal than sex all along. Yeah, maybe…

…

I…

I was scared, though.

Scared of Antonio's past. Scared of all of the things the other nations had told me about him over the past weeks. Scared of the things that had yet to be find out about him. Scared of a future with him. Scared of a future _without_ him.

But I still wanted to _know_.

I still wanted to _understand_.

Because maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to become a worthier lover and better friend if I did.

**xXx**

Think I was safe behind the door of Antonio's House? Think again.

Because all of a sudden, some crazy idiot began to _bang _on the door like some motherfucking _dipshit_, and even though I might have jolted up a little bit when Antonio's poor front door was attacked like that (shit damn fucking insane hammering gave me the shittin' _heebie-jeebies_ dammit), I had expected it.

After all, America wouldn't be _America_ if he had let me escape from his grubby claws _that_ easily. Bastard had come here all the way from America… no, wait, _England_, just to try to stop me from a trip I was going to make _next Friday_. It was _Sunday_ now. Hell, then you _know _you're dealing with a persistent creep.

'Romano!' I heard the American yell in between his door-molesting activities, adding some rhythmic _kicking_ to the already really loud slamming- and pounding noises he was making, '…open up! I know you're in here!'

I glared at the – still very much closed and locked – door and moved away from it.

'Wow, no _shit_ you know I'm here – you saw me running towards the damn House, you dense moron!'

'No! _You're _the dense moron here! Why the hell would you run to the _House_, of all places!' America said – and gave the door another taste of boot.

'Because! There was no other fucking place to run to!' I yelled back.

I could almost hear his eyes, rolling.

'Pssh! _Please_. You _could _have, oh, I don't know… _jumped in a car_ and _race the hell away_ or something…'

I added some furious finger-pointing-to-the-door to my yelling, cringing slightly because of the mindless kicking on the other side.

'Yes! Yes, I _could_ have done that! But! I… I _didn't_!'

…

Apparently, snapping at doors and annoying Americans/Europeans right behind them had made me lose the ability to form actual sentences. And to use my hands normally. You know, without the huge "huu-_**aagh**_!"-gestures and all.

…

It_ is _a_ word, dammit_!

…

Oh well…

**XxX**

Anyway, I think America was saying something to me – while happily continuing his assaults, dammit.

Yeah… Too bad I couldn't hear _shit_ of what the stupid American blond was shouting at me, since those freaky tourists (who were _still wandering around aimlessly around the garden oh sweet god WHY _for some fucked-up reason) had come over to him and started to chatter with him. All of a sudden. Just like that.

In… like, _**10,000,000 languages!**_

…

Okay, maybe only five of them. _Whatever_. Still _sounded_ like 10,000,000 different ones.

Dialects and all. You know.

Yeah…

I actually almost felt _sorry_ for him when I heard America was desperately trying to convince the excited photo-snapping fatties to please get the _fuck_ out of his way (without really telling them to get the _fuck_ out of his way, 'cause like wussy Lithuania, politically-correct America didn't swing that way).

So instead of simply elbowing those fat bastards away, he started _pleading_. Well, maybe not downright _pleading_, but I already know _that's_ what I'll be telling Antonio later anyway, just to make him think I was being totally _cool_ and _badass_ for laughing at America's misery behind the locked door all cowardly and bratty and shit.

…

…even though Antonio would probably not really see the greatness of it.

…

Neither would I, actuall—

Oh, _fuck it_.

'Hey! Ouch – watch it, people! I don't feel like getting trampled toda—OW!' America yelped, probably slowly getting _smothered _by all those sun-burnt Spain-fans, 'Mister! Yeah, you! With the burly mustache! Keep your hands to yourself, _thankyouverymuch_! And—YOUCH! Who's leg is this!'

I didn't know to be either amused or _disturbed_ by the aggressive jabbering I heard from outside (and in so many different languages, too!) the door, but I stayed put and looked around me, searching the hall for some heavy things I could place in front of the door in case the babbling American rambled his way in.

No luck so far… _ugh. _I cursed and ran a hand through my hair.

'Dammit…'

Wait, that cabinet… hmmmm.

Meanwhile, America still had a hard time controlling the European continent outside.

'Ow, ow! What… _no_, miss – hey, a nametag! – De La Bourbon, which is a very crazy name, haha, I _won't_ take a picture of you and the naked ass-sculpture over there! Can't you see I'm busy right now?'

…

…what the _fuck _did he call that sculpture?

'He's lying, Miss From-The-Land-Of-The-French-Fuckface, he _totally_ _wants_ to take pictures of you and the pretty statue! Of ALL the pretty statues!' I impulsively shouted through the door, 'cause that's right, _nobody_ spews around shit about motherfucking ART and gets away with it when I'm around, dammit! NOBODY!

Naturally, Miss From-The-Land-Of-The-French-Fuckface – at least I _think_ it was her – _squealed_ and clapped her hands in enjoyment… which made America gasp.

'What the… Shut _up_, you Italian jerkass – NO! Don't believe him, miss… Bonbon-something! OUCH! Take that camera out of my _face_, mister – nametag, nametag – De Bruin… _god, _what the _hell_ is up with _that _name… _OOF! _Get off my foot, I need to get inside!'

'Like I'd let you!' I said, and pushed the large cabinet in front of the door. Ha! _Hahahahaha_!

America made a growling noise and started shaking the door – don't know _how _he did that, but boy, did that door started to shake all of a sudden.

'Open _up_, Romano! Open up! You're making a big mistake if you're going to England! You _know _you are!'

A nauseous feeling welled up in my stomach and I gripped the sides of the cabinet as I pushed it even more against the door, the legs of it screeching over the hard floor.

'S-shut _up_, you fucking asshole, you don't know what I know!'

'I _won't _shut up!' The larger nation bonked on the door again, the noise louder than the babbling tourists around him, '…and neither will I leave this country, at least _not_ until I've managed to convince you to keep _away_ from Iggy!'

I squeezed my eyes shut and lowered my head, molars pressing down hard on molars as I kept pushing the stupid cabinet.

'Just g-get lost already! You can't convince me anyway! Give it up!'

The American snorted haughtily at that. 'Me, giving up? _Phah! _Never! I'm a hero, after all – and heroes don't give up or get distracted by minor –OW! Now, that's IT, I've had enough of your… _ngh_, show me that damn nametag of yours, mister… mister… Jones?'

'Hero or not – you _will_ give up this time! Get lost already!' I snarled.

'Your last name is Jones, mister? _Really_?' America started to laugh. 'Whoa! Amazing! So is _mine_!'

I blinked with my eyes and peeked from behind the cabinet to glare at the door. Bastard was having a sudden talk with one of the tourists. What the…

'Yes! Indeed! Mine's Jones, too! What a coincidence! So, what are you doing in Spain? On vacation with the wife and kids, hmm?'

…

On vacation with the wife and kids?

_On vaca__tion with the fucking wife and kids?_

_HMM?_

Holy goddamn _fuck_!

'Hey _asswipe_!' I snapped, feeling strangely neglected, '…you _better_ not be ignoring me again, you lousy basta—'

'Can I befriend you on Facebook, "mister Jones"? Hahahahaha! Nice! Yeah, thanks!' America chattered, too busy to pay attention to my shrill yet manly shouting.

'America! HEY!'

'Ah! Your wife's English? You don't _say_!'

Out of sheer frustration, I dug my fingers in the sides of the wooden furniture in front of me.

'That's IT, I'm SO fucking releasing the HOUNDS now, dammit! I'm—'

My sentence was cut off as two hands were suddenly pressed down on the cabinet, on either side of my own hands – and I could feel a warm, tall(er) body standing behind me, even though it was barely touching me.

I knew those slightly bigger, slightly calloused hands. I knew them very well.

…

Looks like Antonio had heard me.

**XxX**

'Lovino…'

Antonio sighed and moved his hands on mine.

'…why are you moving my stuff and shouting things about releasing "hounds", my love…'

'Because of that fucking American _douchebag_!' I sneered without even looking over my shoulder at him, nodding at the door instead. I could have _pointed_ to the damn thing, of course, but it would be a pity if I'd shrug his hand off just to do that. Because…

…

I don't fucking _know_, alright? Sheesh…

'America? He's _still_ here? Ah, how annoying…' Antonio heaved another sigh and took his hands off my own, gently grabbing my hips to turn me around, so he could face me.

'You _bet_ he's still here – cut it out, I'm pissed!' I continued, pushing his hands off me, '…he won't go away! He says he's staying here! In Spain!'

Then, as I watched him a bit better, I noticed how exhausted the Spaniard looked, looking at me with a pale face and a somewhat hurt expression… and I instantly swallowed every word I wanted to say, quickly grabbing his arms again and wrapping them back around my waist.

'Lovi…?' I heard him say in surprise.

'S-sorry, dammit… sorry…' I grumbled and hesitantly stroke his (very cooperative) arms, too fucking embarrassed and ashamed of the easiness in which the apologies rolled off my tongue to look at him – so I stared the other way instead.

He was quiet for a while, but then he chuckled softly and pulled me closer.

'Ah, I wanted to tell you this earlier, but, well… you have become _nicer_, Lovi. Feli said so as well. You're… ah, _kinder_, I guess. More approachable.'

'I'm _not, _dammit…' I muttered weakly and rested my face against his broad chest for a little bit, '…I-I'm still as harsh as always, you ass…'

Antonio laughed. 'I like it a lot. The way you keep denying your sweetness, the way you keep on scowling and frowning while hugging and holding me… ah, I like it very much. It what makes you special.'

I gripped his shoulders, my eyesight getting somewhat blurry. I can't believe his compliments still had this effect on me.

'I'm _not_ fucking special.'

'You are.'

'I-I'm _no_—'

'You _are_, Lovino.' He gave me a light squeeze.

'U-ugh…' I increased the pressure of my forehead against his stupid nice torso, '…s-stubborn asshole…'

'You're not easy to deal with either.'

'Will you shut up already?' I grunted, pulling away from him, '…and what the hell are you doing, frolicking around the house like a stupid little bitch! I thought I told you to go to _bed_!'

'You did! And I was planning to do so!' Antonio nodded, letting me go, '…but I had to call my friends first, remember?~ Ah, they sounded so glad to hear I was back in my House! Francis even said he'd might pay me a visit later to show me his appreciation for me!'

…

I fought the natural desire to slam my head against the wall.

France? Wanting to show Antonio his "appreciation" for him, huh? That couldn't be as innocent as that gullible idiot had probably interpreted it to be, judging on his cheerful tone.

I mean, _gosh_. I sure wondered _how_ the fucking French bastard wanted to show his appreciation. It couldn't be something pervy, could it. No, it couldn't. Ooh.

I raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging him to go on.

'Ahaha! He was talking about a "_lovestick"_!~' the Spanish nation explained.

There you go.

Ugh. I guess I should lock all of the doors, windows and chimneys later.

'Did you also call Belgium?' I decided to ask the Spaniard, ignoring everything he had said about the French fuckface because that horny asshole didn't deserve to be mentioned again.

'Femke? Oh yes, I've called her. She was happy to hear of me.' He frowned. '…she didn't really understand Russia's greetings to her, though.'

'Sucks to be her, then.' I rolled my eyes. I had always thought Belgium was smarter than she looked, and that she could take a hint or two, but it seemed like I was wrong at that.

…

Call me a soft-hearted wuss, but at some level, I hoped she'd _get it_ in time.

'Anyway!~' Antonio suddenly called out, smacking his hands together and beaming a huge smile at me, '…calling the others didn't take much time, and after I had informed them of my well-being, I really wanted to go to bed! But then I remembered you said you'd be joining me!'

'Might! _Might_ be joining you!' I sputtered right away, face flushed.

'And so, I was like, "okay, let's just make the bed and get it all nice and comfortable for Lovino and me!", ahahaha!~' he carried on.

I gave him a suspicious glance. 'Nice and comfortable, _huh_?'

Antonio's face grew red. 'For _sleeping_, Lovi, for sleeping only!'

Since it worked so fucking well, I repeated some of his last sentence again.

'For sleeping only, _huh_?'

Antonio was silent for a bit, but then smiled coyly, rubbing his arm.

'…ah… well, we could always do _other_ things in bed as well if you insist…'

'Oh, shut it.' I couldn't help but laugh at that. '…predictable moro—'

'…but _really_, Lovino, you have to believe me… I really only… um, only want to… you know, sleep with you. As in _sleeping_. With you. Together, as a couple. Just that.'

Antonio's voice was soft as it interrupted me, and the flustered bastard was fumbling and twiddling and fidgeting with his thumbs and fingers stupidly as he gave me a loving look – that _immediately_ **_sniper'ed_** the grin off my face and made room for a feverish blush.

'Oh.'

…was all I could say.

I cleared my throat and did my best to make a light frown appear on my forehead. It didn't really work out, though: that a-annoying bastard was just being way too fucking kind and sweet and freakishly _adorable_ to deserve something as lousy as a frown, d-dammit…

'So…' Antonio took a step forward and quickly pecked me on the cheek, '…will you… ah… join me to the bedroom, Lovi?'

'U-um…'

I hastily looked from the cabinet to Antonio to the cabinet again to Antonio again, so damn hastily that it felt like I was fucking swirling my brains around.

'What is it?' Antonio asked, blinking.

'W-what about America…' I stammered, not-protesting as Antonio slowly took my hand in his, '…h-he's still outside with those crazy tourist-friends of his… don't you think it's stupid to go have a _siesta _while that idiot is roaming free in the garden?'

Antonio shook his head lazily. 'As long as he stays in the garden, I couldn't care less, Lovi. And that's one tough cabinet. It'll do.'

'You sure are awfully calm about this.' I observed dryly.

'Ah, I am! That's because I'm tired. And besides, what can I do? You won't let me fetch one of my axes anyway.'

I gave him a sharp glare. 'Damn _straight_ I won't let you grab that shit!'

He pouted. 'But Lovi, what _else _am I supposed to do n—'

'Just put some more stuff in front of the door – then I'll go make sure all other entrance-possibilities are locked and secured. Maybe I'll even put some electricity on them! Oh YES!'

'But…' Antonio said, confused as he released my hand, '…isn't that a bit harsh? America hasn't done anything wrong, has he?'

'Says the guy who was happy to smash that same America's skull in just a few moments ago. With a freakin' _halberd_.' I reminded him with narrowed eyes, walking away, '…and who said I was talking about being harsh to _America_?'

That's right! I'd fucking _fry_ a certain fuckfaced Frenchman if he dared to get his fifthly French mitts on these doors, dammit – and his friggin' lovestick, too!

Appreciate _that_!

**xXx**

So.

After that one wacky day full of tourists, half-assed _siestas _and creepy fuckfaced nations frying themselves on the doors/windows/chimneys, the rest of the week passed by rather… normally, I suppose.

…

Well, sure, America camping in the garden with the flag of his nation as a tent for the past few days wasn't exactly what I called "normal".

Neither was his strange habit to walk around on the grass drowsily while only wearing (BRIGHT PINK WHAT HE FUCK) boxers after waking up, but still, it could have been… weirder. Yeah, I was pretty sure of that. I'm a (half) nation, after all – I've seen stranger things than that.

…

But oh my GOD, how ANNOYING it was to open up the curtains every single day (with a whining Antonio clinging to my waist and effortlessly begging me to keep them shut) and to be greeted with the sight of a butt-scratching, teeth-brushing (in front of the small fountain), PINK-BOXER-wearing American – who always chose exact _that_ particular moment to turn around and wave at me like a brainless idiot.

I never waved back.

Antonio did, though.

Yeah.

Easygoing moron had got used to him pretty quickly after we found out that America _really_ wasn't going to leave this place until he had got his way. And even though the Spaniard was utterly confused of America's being here in Spain and all (America didn't tell him anything about my -and his _own_- plan, which, admittedly, made him a bit less douchebaggery), Antonio was still fine with having him over: party because he still thought America had brought him those (now gone) nice, rich tourists to patch up his economy, partly because America had promised to stay outside (and look after the garden) and partly because Antonio just… liked having people over.

…

Oh god, it seemed so fucked-up. First swishing around an axe at the blond freak, then all of a sudden being downright _glad_ with his presence? What the _hell_?

…

Well, as for me, I blamed his personality. Here's my theory:

See, some nations are always annoyingly happy (Feliciano), some are always batshit insane (Russia), and _some_ are always flipping between batshit insane _and _annoyingly happy (say, oh, _Antonio_). Now, these nations simply didn't _know_ any other state of mind than their own standard-ones.

So, if Antonio wasn't allowed to bash America's brains in (=his batshit insane side), there was only one logical option left: be thrilled to have him over (=his annoyingly happy side)!

And there you have it!

…

Oh.

Oh my _god_, that theory was good. No, that theory was fucking _brilliant_.

Man, why didn't I ever go to college? Damn, I'm so fucking smart, it's not even funny! I should totally write a book about my findings and call it "The Tomato Theory" – by Lovino Romano Vargas (Ph.D.).

HELL _YES_!

…

…but who'd want to read that shit.

…

Oh well – it was a nice thought.

But anyway, putting that aside…

I… well, I had to give the crazy American in the garden some credit for what he was doing.

Because, like me, he was willing to go to great lengths to protect/support his lover. Constantly being here, away from his English boyfriend, ready to tackle me to the ground if I had the guts to cross the garden in order to go to England…

…man, that's showing you _care_!

…

But it wasn't enough to convince me to change my plans.

I was still going to see England this Friday, like the both of us had agreed to.

And that meant I was going to tell Antonio I was planning to do that as well.

No camping or tackling American who could prevent me from doing that, because…

…because I _also_ cared, dammit.

**XxX**

Right…

It was already Wednesday-evening when I repeatedly told myself I should tell Antonio what I was going to do on Friday.

I purposely didn't want to wait for Thursday to tell him, because… well, that would be too late for my liking – and that would be yet another reason for Antonio to get angry (or angrier) with me, which I _really_ didn't want to happen.

So I chose to do it on Wednesday. When we were lying in bed, in our PJ's.

I was reading a book, he was watching a stupid Spanish cartoon on TV.

Yes. Like an old (un)married couple.

Disappointed? Expected more action? Yeah, in that case, be prepared for _this: _we had more sexless days than you'd think!

I mean, of course we didn't have sex every single day – oh please _god _no, my poor butt wouldn't survive that! No, we usually had a… um, sex-break of a day, before we'd jump each other again. Sometimes two days, if he had been really, _really_ rough with me. And sometimes, on _really _rare occasions, I didn't get any for _three fucking months_ – nudge nudge wink.

…

…b-but sure, it also happened that we simply skipped the sex-breaks and happily sexed around for three days in a row, without ever leaving the bedroom… but those horny days were _extremely _uncommon. We only did it _that _much if we both were _extremely_ in the mood. And even _then_ it was _extremely _exhausting. Days after, we'd still not be able to walk normally – yes, that goes for Antonio, too: he once almost let his bladder explode because he refused to go to the bathroom, saying it "hurt too much" to pee.

Fucking wuss.

But I digress.

…

Um. So yeah, today, it was Wednesday.

And if I had calculated it right, tonight was one of our regular sex-days.

…wh-which normally meant, in _this_ case, that Antonio and I would probably read and watch TV for just a little while longer, before the sexual tension would finally become too much for us to handle, and then some glances would be exchanged and eventually, books and pants would be flying across the room very stylishly.

…

But if I was honest, I wouldn't mind it to happen _right now_, actually.

Since… since Antonio and I hadn't done it anymore after that last one time in Italy (thanks to that America asshole spying on us), I currently was pretty much trembling in excited anticipation. My fingers were so restless, I couldn't even flip the fucking pages of my goddamn _book_, for God's sake.

W-was Antonio also feeling this way?

I sneakily gave the Spaniard next to me a sideway look.

At first glance, he _seemed_ to be not bothered by the feverish atmosphere at all: he was just snickering and giggling at the dumb cartoon, sitting on his legs like a child.

But when I looked a bit closer, I could see he was giving me looks at me as well, his eyes hooded and his smile a bit less broad when he noticed my own nervous, hopeful glances.

It made me blush and I quickly focused on the pages of my book again, feeling my heartbeat increase and my mouth getting dryer when I realized the kid in front of the TV was quietly switching places with the lover, the _man_.

_God_, did I love to see that. I couldn't get enough of watching that cheerful idiot getting serious. It was so… so freakishly _hot._

And he knew.

As Antonio turned the TV off, I tried to keep up my act of reading (even though I can't recall a single word I've read), in- and exhaling a bit more hurried when I peeked over the book again and saw him approaching me on hands and knees.

'Lovino?'

'W-what?' I mumbled, letting myself sink in-between the sheets of the bed and not-looking away from the page.

'How about putting away that book of yours, hm?~'

He reached out a hand to the book and swiftly lifted it out of my hands.

'H-hey, I was reading that!' I said, pointing out the obvious.

'Ah, really?' Antonio looked at my burning face and squirming body and chuckled. '…then tell me – what was the last word you read before I grabbed your book?'

I… I stared up at him and didn't know what the hell to say.

I know, I could have said something simple like "it", "her" or even "a", but right at that moment, nothing came to mind.

Antonio smiled when I kept silent and looked into the book in his hands, carefully folding the side of a page.

'You were at page 17-18. Just so you know.'

'O-okay…' I heard myself breath out.

Oh _crap_, I had to tell him about Friday. I still had to tell him. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

He put the book on my nightstand, "accidentally" placing his full hand into my groin as he leaned over me. I gave a soft, needy whine in return.

'A-Antonio…'

'I know, I know…' Antonio laughed gently and lay down on top of me and the sheets, hands and thumbs caressing my cheeks as he gave me a firm, hard kiss.

'…it's been a few days already, right?' he panted right after, wiping some of my hair out of my face, '…ah, too long… way too long…'

I gulped and did my best to keep my voice steady. 'Antonio… w-wait, dammit, that… that American can probably—'

'Hear us? Ah, yes. Probably. So?~'

Antonio sat up, gripped the sheets and tugged them off me – _taking my pants off with them_ in the process.

_All_ of my pants!

Holy _shit_!

'Gah!' I gasped, squeezing my suddenly naked legs together in a reflex, '…y-you fucking ass, why did you do _that _for!'

'Ahaha… silly Lovi, to speed things up a little bit, of course!~' Antonio simply stated, getting rid of his huge nightgown and flopping back on my shivering body even before his oversized PJ's hit the ground.

'I…I… ah…' I started, but had to swallow a moan when his tongue flicked up and down my chest, his hands holding up the upper part of my PJ's.

Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, a-at this rate I was never going to tell him, dammit…

'Relax, my love… why are you so tense?' Antonio sounded a bit surprised and stopped slipping his tongue in and out the dip that was my belly button to look at me with a worried frown – wh-which looked a bit weird, considering my awkwardly bend legs were on either side of his head.

'I… I just need to tell you something…' I choked out, immediately grabbing my chance since it would probably the only chance I'd _get_ tonight.

'Ah…' The Spaniard leant his chin on my tummy, eyes spread open playfully. '…something with the d-word, perhaps?~'

I blushed, scowled and thought about squishing his head between my thighs for a second, but decided to ignore that last comment of his.

'No, dammit, it's _not_ a d-word… it's a… um…' I took a deep breath, '…an E-word, actually.'

Antonio's whole face instantly flushed a darker shade of red as well.

'Y-you have _another_ pet-name for me, Lovi? Starting with an E? Really?~ Oh, you're spoiling me…'

'It's not a pet-name. I'm talking about… about England, Antonio.'

'…_England_, Lovino?'

The cheerful glint in his eyes was immediately consumed by a hidden darkness and he stared at me, lifting himself off me a bit.

'…what about him?'

_Quick Lovino, continue, quick quick quick, like ripping off a bandage, quick and relatively painless!_

'I'm… I'm going to visit him on Friday. W-we have an appointment.' I managed to say.

…

I had expected all kinds of things to happen after I had said that.

I had expected him to get mad, to climb off me and order me to get the hell out of his sight, to get sad, to get depressed or maybe even to get _sick_.

But…

Miraculously enough, the only thing he did was heaving a deep sigh and resting his head on my stomach again, running a hand through his hair.

'Ah. An appointment, you say…'

I nodded – and now I did close my legs around him some more, if only to prevent him from getting away from me.

He looked at me suspiciously. 'The same kind of appointment you've made with… those other countries you've been going to? Is England part of… that?'

'Y-yes! Yes, indeed!' I said right away, sitting up some more, '…j-just like Austria and Russia!'

I very wisely decided not to mention the Netherlands.

'Why, Lovino?' Antonio then softly asked, sighing again.

'U-um…' I looked away from him. '…I… I can't tell you that. But it's… it's important. I want to ask him things. That's all.'

'Ask him things…' Antonio laughed, but it sounded more like a whimper to me. '…h-how nice, you're going to ask him things…'

'Antonio.'

I frowned and poked his head, making him look up.

'Look, I _know_ you don't like that idea. I know you'd rather tell me to stay away from him. But… but this is important. I _need _to do this. Do you understand?'

He stared at me, long and thoroughly, as if he was desperately trying to look for some answers behind my eyes, before giving me the smallest of nods.

'Ah, I think I understand, yes…'

'Do you…' I bit my lower lip. '…do you trust me, then?'

'I do.' he said resolutely, causing a small, relieved smile to appear on my face.

'Then… then there's nothing you should be worried about.'

'I guess not… so, this Friday, huh… ah, but Lovino!' He jolted his head up, '…can you promise me to get back home on time this Friday?'

I eyed him weirdly. 'Um, yeah, I… think so. Why?'

Finally, he smiled a fairly bright smile at me and pressed a kiss on my tummy, patting it affectionately.

'I want to ask you something.'

My heart skipped a beat.

'…a-ask me something…?'

'Ask you something, yes.'

'U-um, um… you… you can also ask me… _now_, you know…' I stammered, voice oddly croaked.

Antonio chuckled and shook his head, pushing me back down on the mattress.

'Ah, oh no, you'll have to wait till Friday-night, my love – it _has _to be Friday-night…'

'What's so special about fucking Friday-night!' I huffed, '…can't you at least give me a… a _hint_ of what you're going to say?'

All of a sudden, Antonio, who ignored my question, placed his hands in the crooks of my knees and pushed my legs backwards, further and further, until my butt was sticking up in the air.

I hadn't seen it coming and yelped, grasping at the mattress below me, feeling embarrassed and turned on at the same time when I saw Antonio glancing down at me – from between my (still very awkwardly) bend legs.

'The… the hell are you doing, d-dammit…' I said hoarsely, face getting painfully red from the weird position.

'I think I'd like to have some rough sex with you tonight, Lovino. To relief some of the tension, you know?~' he said.

"Tension"?

I glared daggers at him. 'Yeah _right_ – to get back at me for going to England, you mean.'

Antonio shrugged, still holding back my legs. 'Well, can you blame me?'

'…not really.' I admitted.

I mean, I would've got back at him as well if he told me he wanted to visit, um, let's say, _Germany_ without telling me why.

'So… you okay with it?' Antonio asked.

I rolled my eyes. 'God, Antonio – if you're planning to do it rough and if I'm aware of that and _not_ kicking you in the face, then _of course_ I'm okay with it. Stop ruining the atmosphere with your stupid questions, d-dammit…'

'Ooh. So you'd like it rough as well?~'

'…u-um.' I nervously licked my lips.

'I won't hold back then.'

One of Antonio's hands slid up my legs, back to my ass, softly pushing my cheeks apart.

…

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

W–w-w-w-what the fucking _fuck_ was he planning to do… t-_there_? W-with _what_?

Antonio noticed my little panic-attack and smiled reassuring at me.

'Calm down, Lovi – it's only normal to prepare you _good, __**really good **_before showing you all the corners of the room…'

'Y-yeah, b-b-but not with… d-don't you… I don't…' I blabbered, clenching the fabric underneath me even firmer.

'Ah, I wonder why I haven't ever done this with you before…' Antonio mused, looking down at… at _that_, smacking his lips, '…I bet you taste wonderful…'

Then he pressed his face forwards and made me scream so damn loudly that _if_ that American in the garden wasn't already aware of what we were doing up here before, he sure as hell would be aware of it _now_.


	38. Hiney II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: First of all – thank you guys so much for being so very kind to be. I know I must have sounded really, really whiny last week, so receiving so many wonderful and nice reviews from so many people who told me they believe in me really cheered me up. Of course, I still have to do lots and lots (__**the 1**__**st**__** of July is my deadline – so the week of July 1**__**st**__** will be the week that I won't update…**__), but I feel like I can do it now._^^ _Thank you all very much for that. _

_A/n2: A lot of readers told me they'd like to read Lovi's wonderful tomato-flavored theory of epicness. So now I'm seriously considering to write it out… you know, when I have time for it and all. Which is probably never. Or at least not right now. Still, I'd like to write it out… or to make the third fic with him trying to actually write the damn thing. _XDDDD _OH GOD, YOU GUYS INSPIRE ME TO NO END~_

_A/n3__: To my anonymous reviewers – once again, thank you very much for all of your reviews._^^ _I wish I could thank you more properly than this, but yeah – this'll have to do… _

_A/n4: Nothing actually… __**happens**__ in this chapter. It's mostly rambling. Pfffrt. Sorry. Please don't hate me._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXVIII:

_**Hiney-Monoosh  
**__**(Australian Railway Song**__**)**_

As "promised", Antonio _really_ didn't hold back that Wednesday-evening.

After calmly violating my butt w-w-with his damn tongue (_oh sweet Lord of Mary, that __**tongue**_) for a while, he fucked me so ungodly _hard_ I couldn't even _think_ anymore. And not just once – oh no, multiple times, at least four, five times, into the mattress, against the wall, on the floor… one time he even dragged me to the balcony and did me _there_, enclosing his hands around mine as I tightly held on to the railing and cried out all kinds of things that I don't remember anymore, since I wasn't able to think, remember?

…wait…

…oh well.

Anyway, it was fucking _great_.

Seriously.

I most of the time liked tender love-making the best, but _damn_, brutal fucks could be just as enjoyable at times.

…

S-still, I was kind of happy when Antonio pulled out after that last round and pressed me against his naked, sweaty body, whining how sorry he was for screwing me like that: he really _had _to relieve some stress and tension (I blame America), and, well, I happened to be there. So yeah. You do the math.

I had just… just hugged him back and muttered I hadn't mind it. And that I loved him. And, since I was on a roll, I even told him the d-word. Again.

That caused Antonio to burst into happy-tears and cuddle and kiss me some more, which I happily answered, which he loved so much he deepened the kisses, which made me pull him back on top of me, which made him chuckle and ask "Again, Lovi?~" which made me blush and nod, and so we did it again – but a lot more gently this time, with quiet gasps and moans and slow movements that made all the pain melt into something really fucking _fantastic._

It was _great_, so _great_, so fucking _great_, but my _god_, I sure hoped America had been totally knocked out cold that night and therefore hadn't heard/seen _anything_ of it. Or, you know, that he, if he _had_ heard it, was just thinking something like "wow, Romano sure agrees with Spain a lot!~".

IT. COULD. BE.

…

…of course, when I woke up the morning after and tried to untangle my limbs from Antonio's, the first thing I heard was America, loudly complaining to a random Spanish (and therefore surprisingly early) mailman how difficult it had been for him to sleep with "those two fucking horndogs" having sex all night long.

…

Yeah_._ So much for hoping he hadn't heard it/misunderstood it.

U-ugh. I bet that local mailman knew exactly what the American was talking about…

I mean, I'm sure the mailman must have heard us a couple of times as well, when Antonio and I had late-in-the-morning-sex, for example. Or early-in-the-afternoon-sex. Or there's-nothing-on-the-TV-so-let's-have-sex-sex.

…

…

I suddenly seriously wondered why nobody else had ever complained about us yet.

**XxX**

But back to me and Antonio.

Well…

As soon as I had woken up (and noticed in what kind of situation I was in), I grunted and tried to push Antonio's – toned and tanned and_ so hot _– body off me, since that Spanish bastard had somehow managed to fall asleep on top of me again and was currently smothering me and drooling on me – _simultaneously_.

Luckily, I succeeded in pushing him off me, ignored his unsatisfied mumbling afterwards ('Loviii… aww, don't you want to hug a little longer…') and stepped out of the bed, ready to race to the bathroom in order to shower like a fucking madman while grumbling and moping and ranting to myself about Antonio, America and the rest of the world, which meant I was yet again going to have one _hell_ of a shower today.

That was the plan.

But my butt wasn't agreeing with that plan, since immediately after I had stood up—

…

OH MY GOD.

PAIN.

SO MUCH

_PAIN!_

I instantly dropped on my knees and felt on the floor, _on my fucking face, _panting and gasping and clenching my teeth in agony.

The pain… oh, the unbearable _pain_ I was experiencing below the waist was _terrible_. So, _so _very terrible. It _hurt_, oh _god_, I couldn't breathe, had to claw at the carpet, it hurt so _damn much ngh fuuuck_—

'L-Lovino!' I heard Antonio call out somewhere above me – before his hand was carefully placed on top of my head, '…Lovi, Lovi! There you are! Are you okay? What's the matter? Why are you lying on the floor all awkwardly like that?'

…

Sometimes, I really, _really_ wanted to kick him in the balls for being such a dense idiot.

…

Now, I _could_ give him a few of the colorful sarcastic remarks I always had on stand-by for moments like this, of course, like "Oh, it's nothing, I'm only picking some _motherfucking_ _flowers _down here", or "I just all of a sudden felt like scrubbing the floor with my damn _eyebrows_, you stupid _fuck_", but the pain in my rear end was too much… just too much… couldn't concentrate on anything else…

'G-guess…' I groaned instead at the Spaniard, trying to get upright – with no success whatsoever, '…just… just take one good, well-thought-out _guess_ why the hell I _could_ be lying on the floor in _this _particular position, Antonio…'

Silence filled the room for a few seconds and I tried to relax a bit – but failed again. I could basically _hear_ Antonio's lazy brain thinking fanatically, before he eventually gave a weak, embarrassed laugh.

'…does… does it hurt _that_ much, Lovi…?'

'Yes.' I snapped.

'R-reall—'

'Yes, _really_, Antonio.'

'I-I'm sorry… so sorry… here, let me help you get back into bed…'

I firstly wanted to protest (because it would fucking hurt _too_ _much_, I was sure of it!), but Antonio didn't wait for a possible response from my side and quickly jumped out of bed, his arms cautiously closing themselves around my waist as he picked me off the floor and carried me back to the softness of the bed and sheets.

'O-ow, ow, ow…'

I kept hissing, firmly closing my eyes and aggressively squeezing Antonio's arm, but Antonio wasn't bothered (or _acted_ like he wasn't bothered) and did his best to place me back on the mattress as gentle as possible – on my stomach, of course, 'cause I'd tear his face off if he had put me on my back.

'Okay, okay…' Antonio took a deep breath and I looked at him with a scowl, '…you just stay here for a while, I'll go get something that might make you feel better.'

I frowned a little more. 'France's dead body?'

'Um… no.'

'_Germany's_ dead body?'

'A-ahaha… no, Lovi…'

'Dang. All of my dreams – _shattered._' I plunged my head on the mattress.

'Lovino, please. I'm _not_ planning to make you feel better with an… um… dead body.' Antonio said, a unsure smile on his face, '…it's something else. I'll go get it. Okay?'

'Hmmn.' I sighed deeply and stared at the TV right in front of me. Apparently, Antonio had placed me back on the bed backwards. You know, the other way around. Oh well – fine with me, at least I now was also able to look out of the window and secretly pretend to squeeze that stupid American bastard in the garden between my forefinger and thumb.

Sptsh._ Sssssptsh!_

Like an ant.

That'd teach that meddling asshole, dammit.

…

Too bad my butt was too sore to walk over to the window.

'Lovino… um… you…'

Antonio's hesitant voice made me turn my face towards him again.

'Still here? I thought you were going to get something for me, you asshole.'

'I am, but… you're not too mad at me, right? For… this?' Antonio stammered softly, giving me worried glances. 'I… never meant to hurt you…'

I blushed and hastily turned away from him again.

'I-idiot. If I was mad at you, I'd have told you.'

'…a-ah. So…'

'…so I'm _not_ fucking mad at you, you moron.'

'Really not?'

'_Really_ not.'

A hand slowly ran through my hair.

'…thank you, Lovi.'

I shivered and nodded – as far as I _could _nod.

'Y-yeah, you're welcome, just get your shit already, y-you wuss…'

'Ah, yes. I will. Be right back!~'

'Sure, sure…'

I listened as Antonio left the bedroom and rested my head on my arms, a weak, admiring smile sneakily appearing on my face when I vaguely heard how fast he was walking over the soft rug of the corridor just outside the room, how quickly he was moving, just because of something he wanted to do for me, _only _me…

…

And he probably was running around the House_ butt-naked_.

…

Fuck. I sure hoped France wasn't stuck in the chimney anymore.

**xXx**

A _very_ little while later (he was away for, like, five minutes?), Antonio already returned.

He came back into the room and beamed one of his usual trademark sparkling smiles at me again as he held up a small, white, suspicious little bottle of… something.

…

I… didn't know what was in the bottle of what it was for.

But I don't know I really _wanted_ to know, either.

…

I still asked, though.

'W-what's that?' I mumbled, watching the – still very naked, oh so very naked, _wonderfully_ naked – Spaniard getting back in bed with the bottle and wincing a little bit when the stupid bastard dared to accidentally _bounce _on it.

'This bottle, you mean?' Antonio said, crawling somewhere behind me – which only made me tense up, like _everybody's _body would when a naked idiot crawled into their beds, '…oh, this is just something I've gotten from Francis and Gilbert a few months ago. It's a painkilling sort of gel! Or lotion! I don't really know how they called it anymore, but the most important thing is, it gets rid of… um… ah, how shall I call it…'

Naturally, I was only getting more and more nervous, dammit, and gave him a slightly freaked-out glance over my shoulder.

'H-how shall you call _what_?'

Antonio had a uncharacteristic blush on his cheeks and scratched his head stupidly as he read what was on the bottle – it must have been a while since the last time he had actually read something, because he furrowed his brows even more than I usually did. Then he sneakily looked up at me again and blushed even _heavier_, which would have been incredibly endearing and cute to see… if it was in _any _other context than the current one. _Any _other one. Seriously.

'…um…' he started, '…it says here that this stuff helps to get rid of… _anal pains_, Lovi…'

I stared at him like he had just announced he was going to get married with one of his funky flamingos named Goosy Gabrielle and planning to make a _lot_ of plastic Latino-babybirds with the cheap piece of crappy garden-ornament.

'…what the _fuck_, Antonio?' I heard myself croak out, voice shaky and obviously _horrified_.

'Hm… it doesn't say if it's for hemorrhoids or simple after-sex pains, though…' Antonio continued, clacking his tongue and… and…

…and _unscrewing the motherfucking lid_!

'No.' I said resolutely, wildly shaking my head.

Antonio ignored me and kept reading. Then his face lit up.

'Ah!~ Good news, Lovi – it's says here it's _especially_ made for _your_ current kind of anal pain!' He laughed a bit and crept closer. '…I guess Francis was right when he said this would come in handy one day!~ Ahahaha…'

'No!' I repeated a bit louder – and kicked at him.

Antonio gasped and barely evaded my kicks, falling down on the sheets.

'_Oompf_! Lovino! You're so mean! You almost _hit_ me!'

'I know. My bad – I'll make sure to hit you for _sure_ next round. Now sit still and let me peacefully kick those pretty teeth out of the back of your perverted _head_, you… y-you mentally disturbed _rapist_!' I sneered, kicking my legs for all I was worth – and _this_ time, Antonio _did_ receive a few well-deserved hits.

'Ow! Rapist? W-why – _oof! _– why am I a rapist all of sudden!' he stammered.

'Because! Y-you…' I shuddered, but never stopped flailing my legs, '…you want to _molest me_ with that gooey shit, dammit!'

'I don't want to molest you at all! I- OUCH! I want to help you! I want to make you feel better!'

'By _fingerfucking_ me again? I _don't_ fucking _think_ _so_!'

'Read it for yourself, then!'

Antonio reached his arm out with a groan and managed to smack me the bottle in my hands – _right_ before getting yet another satisfying foot in the face.

'_Ugh_!' I wrinkled my nose, looking at the small bottle in disgust and holding it away from me a bit, 'I can't believe I'm actually _touching _this shit! EW! Gross! Take it back, take it back!'

'No! Biwst you bead the descwiption fod yourselv, Lobino – a-and stop aiming youw kicks at by doze! Don't you know it beally hudts when you do dat? It doez! It beally, _beally _hudts!' Antonio said – his ordinary way of talking just a _wee_ bit influenced by his flattened nose.

'…oww… ow, I think by doze is bweeding…'

I decided to glare at him in response.

'Your nose is fucking _fine_. At least finer than my _ass_ is.'

Antonio's face fell – well, I _think_ it did, I didn't know for sure since his hands were all over his stupid face, touching and feeling his nose carefully.

'Lobi… jusd bead the—'

I shivered. 'G-give me _one _good reason why I should read the damn description. _ONE_. I dare you.'

The Spaniard narrowed his eyes, looking annoyed, and nodded slowly, removing his hands from his face and pointing at the bottle in my extremely reluctant hands.

'You want a reason to read all of it? Fine. Just read the blue letters for now if you want your reason. See them?'

I hesitated between making a snarky remark about him suddenly being able to speak normally again (I mean, what the hell was up with that?), tossing the fucking bottle to his head (since I know it would feel _really good _if I did that right now) and… a-and muttering I was sorry for hurting his nose (because… because he indeed seemed to be in pain)…

…so, _naturally_, I went for Secret Never Saw This Coming Option #4: shutting the fuck up and looking for the blue letters on the scary bottle, like he told me.

I found them rather quickly and my eyes spread themselves a little wider as they read the following revealing bit:

"_Made in Italy (Sicily)."_

…

…

Uh…

I ran a finger over the actual letters, tilting my head to the side as I confusedly looked at Antonio.

'…are… are you saying _my_ half of Italy produces this stuff?'

He laughed weakly, his forefinger still softly patting his nose.

'_I'm_ not saying that – but the _bottle _is.'

The tone of his voice had become calm and friendly again, no longer sounding angry, unsure or overtly cheerful anymore.

And ultimately, _that_ _tone_ _alone_ was the biggest reason why I _finally_ gave in and read the full description of the weird "medication".

As I read, Antonio stayed quiet and patiently waited for me to react – but he must have expected a specific kind of answer from me already, since he gently lifted my legs a little bit, dragged me closer and slipped his own legs underneath mine, letting my quivering limps rest on his lap.

After a minute or two I had finished reading all of it… and made a couple of weird, stubborn, grumbling noises, handing over the bottle to the Spanish nation behind me with shaking hands, not looking back at him.

'F-fine… g-go ahead then, d-dammit…'

'I can?' Antonio asked.

'Yeah… it's Italian, so it must be… good. Just… just don't hurt me.'

'Ah, I won't, my love. I won't. I _promise_ you.' he muttered and fondled my upper leg.

'Okay…' I took a deep breath and leant my chin on my arms, '…okay. If… if _you_ say so, it's… it's okay…'

…

Ugh.

Nationalism and love bites ass.

Pretty_ damn _literally.

**xXx**

'O-ow… ow, ow… a-ah…'

I gasped quietly, bit my lower lip and squeezed the huge pillow lying in-between my arms tightly, hating my legs for trembling like they did as Antonio's moist finger slowly slid in and out of my ass, rubbing the cool and (admittedly) pleasantly-feeling liquid shit inside of me as carefully as he could.

'Lovino… how… um… oh, hang on, almost finished…'

Antonio paused, pulled out, _loudly_ squirted some more of the painkilling lotion on his fingers and smeared and sprinkled it _right_ on top of my… um.

Yeah. _That_.

…

Fucking _cold_, d-dammit!

'G-g-g-g-_god_, Antonio…' I shivered and gnawed even harder on my lip when the Spaniard exhaled shakily and gently tapped a finger against the painful spot.

'…how… how are you doing, Lovi? Are you okay?'

'I… well, I could have been _better_, you b-bastard…' I grumbled with a half-assed snort, sighing and trying to relax some more as the weird liquid in- and outside of my embarrassed body slowly started to ease away my pain.

Antonio made a "hm-hm" kind of noise of acknowledgement and momentary took my breath away when he once again brushed his slick finger against my puckered… puckered… p-private place.

'S-stop, it… it hurts, it hurts…' I said huskily, letting one arm go of the pillow to make _very_ scary and oh so _impressive_ smack-gestures somewhere in Antonio's direction – I don't know how it looked like, I was still shutting my eyes and all…

'Relax, Lovi.'

Antonio's free hand quickly took a firm hold of my own scrambling one – and was even quicker to lace my cramped up fingers together with his.

'W-what are you…' I mumbled and raised my head from the pillow to cast a hazy glance over my shoulder, staring at our awkwardly intertwined fingers without uttering a word.

From the corners of my eyes, I saw Antonio, smiling lovingly at me as he massaged the palm of my hand.

'Lay yourself down, my love… it's okay, alright? You're doing great. Just a little bit more and you're done.'

'H-hmnmn… s-stop talking like I'm fucking giving birth to something, y-you freak…' I grumbled, but did what he said anyway… and had to fucking _pillow-muffle _myself to avoid a very shrill yelp from coming out when Antonio moved his thumb up and down outside the most sensitive area of my butt.

He breathed in and out softly again, apologized, and rubbed my hand just a little bit more affectionately.

'Ah, I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you.'

'H-_how_, dammit!' I hissed – but held on to his hand like it was a fucking lifeboat.

'Shall I make you some breakfast?' Antonio suggested.

'B-breakfast…' I pronounced the word thoughtfully, '… y-y-you want to make me breakfast?'

'If that's alright with you… yes!~'

'W-well, it depends… are… are you finished?'

'Um… wait, I'll check…'

…

I blinked my eyes.

"Check"?

Check _what_?

And how the _hell _was he going to fucking check… _whatever _he was going to check?

…wait…

He was talking about my ass, wasn't he?

…

No, he was actually talking about your freaking _nostrils_, Lovino. Of _course_ he was talking about your butt, you moron.

Damn. Fucki— I-I mean, _making_ _love_ with Antonio did _many _things to me, but I sure as heck wasn't getting any smarter of it.

…

Maybe he was sneakily swiping bits of my fearsomely big intelligence away every single time we had sex.

With his _dick_.

…

What? Oh, _screw_ _you_, stranger things have happened over the years, don't you know!

'I think we're done, Lovi.' Antonio said, and I couldn't help but notice the relief in his voice.

'You're glad we're done doing… _that?'_ I scowled and cringed somewhat when he got off the bed (the _bouncing_, oh _god_, the motherfucking _bouncing_).

'Um…'

I saw he opened one of his closets and took out a large blanket, obviously taking his sweet time while thinking about what to answer.

'Well… um, yes, Lovi.' he finally admitted in a low, hesitating voice, '…I _am _glad that's done. See, it's… kind of strange, doing that kind of thing with you and your heavenly bottom without having sex with you in the end. Because this time, I was really hurting you.'

I flushed and deepened the frown on my forehead.

'…I-I think I already told you before not to worry about hurting me or whatever, you idiot! I can take it!'

He laughed a bit, walking over to me with the huge brown blanket and carefully draping it over my (indeed kind of cold) body.

'Ah, I know. I know you can take it and I know you're tough and manly and all that… but imagine how it was for _me_ to do that to you.'

I huffed, but allowed him to tuck me in with an even more radiating blush.

'…h-how was it for you, then?'

'No fun.' Antonio said with a sigh and crouched right in front of me, leaning his arms on the mattress on the bed, his face just a few inches away from mine, '…I know you fairly well, Lovi… and because of that, I think I can tell what noises you make when you're turned on… and what noises you make when you're in pain.'

'Oh wow, you _know_ me. How fucking _good_ of you.' I mumbled, watching the curves of his smile and reaching out a hand to poke his face. '…maybe I should call you the South Italy Whisperer from now on.'

Antonio chuckled and gently closed his eyes as I pressed my hand flat on his face, caressing his cheek, still intrigued by his unfading smile.

'Ah, maybe?~ I prefer you calling me by that _other_ name, though.'

I vengefully pinched his cheeks and shot some irritated glares at the Spaniard, but didn't say anything.

'I…' Antonio 's face looked troubled – though not because of the pinching.

'…I didn't like it, Lovino. Those sounds you made. I really didn't like it. It made me feel bad. Because of all the persons and people and nations I know, you mean the most to me.'

I nodded silently, changing my angry pinches back into loving touches.

'So…' he raised his hand and put it on his face, over mine, '…so… hearing you whimper like that, _suffering _like that… ah, I felt like such a bad person for doing that to you…'

'You're not a bad person.' I prompted.

Antonio eyed me insecurely.

'…I'm not?'

I leaned forward and softly pressed my lips on his.

Just for a second or two.

Then I pulled back again, not breaking eye contact with his big, slightly dazed green orbs.

'You're not bad, Antonio. Not at all.'

'You _sure_?' he muttered, nuzzling the side of my face.

I shuddered when he peppered my neck with small kisses and nodded, my hand sliding to the back of his neck to twist my fingers in his curly hair.

'I-I'm sure. And since _I'm_ saying it, it has to be true. I'm the smartest of the two of us, after all…'

'Ah, that's true… that certainly is true, my love…'

He smiled into the crook of my neck.

'Now…' I licked my lips and let go of his hair, weakly head-butting him, '…n-now put some clothes on and go make me that promised breakfast already, you stupid dumbass.'

'I will!~' Antonio chirped, suddenly cheerful and peppy again, '…ah, how about some sandwiches with cheese, sliced tomatoes and salt and pepper?'

My stomach approved of this tasty suggestion by rumbling.

He grinned, rubbing his nose against mine teasingly. 'Is that a yes?~'

'I-it's a yes, alright.' I said with a small smile.

'Then I'll go make that, Lovi. Right away – well, after putting my clothes on.'

He stole another quick, happy kiss from me before getting up, randomly grabbing a shirt and some pants out of his (other) closet and hurrying himself to the bathroom – a small hop in his way of walking clearly visible.

I watched him walking away…

…and then I brutally _smacked_ myself in the face, _finally_ getting rid of that stupid, dreamy, content smile on my face, 'cause _no way in hell _I was planning to smile more often, dammit!

I mean, _fuck_, I was almost starting to _understand_ how to do it!

…

Holy _shit_!

**xXx**

Anyway…

While Antonio was making himself useful downstairs by making me some fucking fantastic breakfast with tomatoes and other delicious shit, I had grabbed my book again and continued reading. Good thing Antonio had folded the pages last night.

My book was supposed to be a really good one. And it indeed was a nice, yet very depressing book, written by some famous Italian guy who must have loved prime numbers.

…

But no matter how well the stupid thing was written, it still didn't really distract me from the pain in my lower back, dammit.

However, the soothing stuff Antonio had rubbed and smeared on/in me earlier _did _distract me.

Although there was still a painful _burning_ going on in my lower regions, it wasn't as intense as it used to be. The cool lotion seemed to have calmed my poor butt down at least a little bit, and as time passed, the throbbing became less and less. I was actually able to daydream a little about how good Antonio's butt had looked when he was nonchalantly flaunting _that_ _ass _around the room _without _a flash of pain suddenly tearing through my body.

…

N-not that I was fantasizing about Antonio's butt a lot. Pssh. Hell no.

But.

Still.

I couldn't unsee.

That was one _fine_ butt.

…

…

…

Yes. That sure was—

_**Bam**__!_

**XxX**

GAH!

All of a sudden, the door slammed against the wall!

…

…what _could_ have made me jump up startled, but since I couldn't exactly jump up right now, I just _mentally_ did so (shut up, I have a lot of imagination), shrieked rather shrilly and pulled the covers of the blanket higher, like every other manly, muscular (but not _too_ muscular!) man would have done in my place.

I peeked from underneath my blanket.

'W-who the fucking—'

'Haha! Good-morning, Romano, you screaming little asshole!'

…

…

That voice. That voice that instantly made me want to throw lawnmowers and pink flamingos at the very source of that voice.

I pushed the blanket down a bit and stared at the waaaaaaaay too _zippy_ American standing in the doorway – with two sandwich-filled plates in his arms.

'…_America_?'

'Hey!' America pouted, and managed to balance both plates on one arm while pointing an accusing finger at me. 'Don't go _italic_ on my name! _Italic _gives so many negative vibes when you use it on a word! '

'…what?' I said confusedly.

'You're free to **bold** my nation's name, though.' he reassured me with a confidential grin. 'Because **bolding **things makes everything better and more wonderful. Which is **wonderful**.'

…

I stared at him.

He stared back at me.

I stared at him some more.

He stared back at me some more.

I stared at him even _more_.

He stared at me even _more – _and took the staring-contest to a whole new dimension by adding some additional _cowboy-dancing_.

_WHAT._

…

And then I officially had enough of it.

'America?'

'What is it?'

'GET THE _FUCK_ OUT OF MY ROOM!'


	39. Fanny II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I want to go to England this Summer break! But none of my friends wants to come with me, because they have boyfriends/want to go to Spain or Turkey/suffer from homesickness. And my dad says I can't go alone, since I'm 23 and __**surely**__ wouldn't be able to take care of myself. _*insert pissed-off face*_ I guess I'll just work my whole damn vacation, then._

_A/n2: I just made an unsettling discovery… I don't think I've ever let Lovi say "Chigi". EVER. In NONE of my fics. _O_O  
…_oh well…_

_A/n3: I went to a party last week and was introduced to a really cute, good-looking guy, with whom I danced around for the rest of the evening. It was some kind of wonderful. I seriously thought I could fall in love with such a spontaneous, funny guy_.^^  
_But then I discovered he was only 17 (but in less than a month 18!~) years old.  
__17 YEARS OLD  
__WHAT  
__BUT HE WAS ONE HEAD TALLER THAN ME  
__I'M A FUCKING CRADLE-ROBBER  
_*sobs*  
_Now what to do…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XXXIX:

_**Everyone Wants My Fanny  
**__**(Benny Bell**__**)**_

…

You'd _think_ that screaming like a hysterical freak at somebody else would be a good reason to make that other person turn around and run away sobbing or something.

You'd _think _that being completely naked (safe for a blanket) and _very _grumpy would also be a few good reasons for someone else to hurry the _fuck_ out of the room.

You'd think that, right? Yeah, you would.

…

Shut up, I _know _you would!

Well, no matter how many obvious reasons not-to-enter-this-room came to mind, they were still not convincing enough. Nope, not for stupid, staring, munching-on-sandwiches-America, who just cocked his head and approached me some more, completely ignoring my deadly, burns-right-through-solid-fucking-_gold_ glares, which for some reason weren't effective at all.

You know. Since he didn't start burning.

Sizzling.

Fuming.

_Whatever_.

The only thing that happened was him, coming closer to me. _Unfazed._

…

Dammit.

**xXx**

'So anyway!'

America suddenly flopped down next to me with the two plates, his careless movements _instantly_ making my face turn as white as a fucking bottle of milk and causing my hands to _grasp _at the mattress _desperately, _as if the life of my molested butt depended on it – which it _did - _and he gave me a curious look.

'Aside from the usual yelling and tantrum-throwing , how's it going, Romano?'

I growled and pulled my blanket up some more.

'_Fuck_ you.'

America nodded calmly, placing the plates next to him.

'Great! I'll take that as an "oh, I'm doing just _peachy_, Alfred, thank you for asking, you wonderful, epic, _shizzlin'_ man, you! I'm ready to have your babies now!", hahaha!'

I glared up at him in utter _disgust_, wrapping the blanket around me tighter.

'Okay. _Why_, America, _why the __**fuck **_would I want your friggin' _babies!'_

'You don't want them?' America asked.

'No!'

'Not even for free?'

I blinked. 'What, are you handing them out or something? NO! Of course not! Keep your fucking baby-shit _with_ you, you sick freak, I don't want them!'

'Not even if they were Spain's?'

I opened my mouth, ready to fire a loud "YES!", along with a freshly, just-made-up term of abuse to his empty-headed, blond noggin, but nothing seemed to come out of it.

…

So I closed my mouth again and looked away from him with a huff, scowling so much my forehead started to hurt.

'…this conversation makes no fucking sense, dammit.'

He didn't pick up the hint – of _course _he didn't – and made an annoyed noise, poking the back of my head.

'But _would_ you, Romano? Would you want to do that, if that's what he would want to have the most? If that would make him happy?'

I groaned and stomped his leg, ending up hurting my _own fucking hand_ instead of his leg.

…

Were his legs made from _steel _or something? Holy crap!

America shook his head when he saw my face twist with pain. 'Man, you're so _waspish_, Romano.'

…

…

Moving on…

'L-listen, you stupid fucker…' I said in a somewhat strangled, gruff voice (_shit_, now I've gone and done it, I fucking broke my hand, _god, the __**pain!**_) '…I'm a _nation_. I'm _male_. And I'm not too fond of kids. There's _no way _I could have Antonio's fucking children.'

'I know, I know,' America sounded impatient. '…but what if you actually _had _the opportunity to produce some hot-tempered, green-eyed babies with Spain? What if that was possible? Would you do it?'

…

I was getting _really_ confused now. So confused, I didn't even feel my broken bones anymore.

'I-I don't fucking _know_, I never thought about that, you _creep_! But… w-well… kids CAN be kind of cute… and if it would make Antonio happy, then I guess I woul—'

'You'd do it in a heartbeat, right? You'd do it right away, if only to make Spain happy. To make him shine as bright as possible. Right?' America smiled.

'You're _really_ freaking me out, America. _Really_ really.' I shuddered.

The American simply shrugged and beamed an apologetic grin at me.

'Is that so? Oh, sorry for that. But you know what I mean, don't you? I'm talking about things you are prepared to do for your lover. Things you _want _to do for your lover, just to make them happy, forgetting yourself in the process because no way in hell you're more important than the happiness of your significant other.'

'Ooooh.' I nodded slowly. 'Well, sure, I understand _that_, yes.'

He blinked. 'You think I used a bad example to explain the whole "going-to-great-lengths-for-your-lover"-concept?'

'America, just now, that one sentence made so much more sense than all of that baby-shit of earlier, it's _scary_.' I remarked with a sneer.

'I used a real-life example, though.' The American sighed, staring at the TV in front of us.

'What do you mean?' I mumbled – more out of politeness than genuine interest, to be fair.

America twiddled his fingers.

'Iggy… I mean Arthur… I mean _England _wants to have kids. Since he loves them and all – and I can tell. Now, as you are _no_ _doubt_ aware, I'm _America_. I mean, **America**. I pretty much rule the whole world. I can have pretty much whatever I _want_ to have. I juggle around with important decisions every single day, try to make the best of everything, and on top of that, I also have enough power and influence on all of the other countries to decide over life and death.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Don't forget to mention your legs of steel.'

'Also, I have legs of steel.'

'Thank you.'

'Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you…' America looked at me again, '…I can probably accomplish everything I _want_ to accomplish. I can make dreams come true. I _want _to make dreams come true. Especially England's. And yet… and yet I _can't_ give him what he wants. I can't give the person that means the most to me the "thing" he desires getting from me. I'd do everything for him, I'd go over the moon for him to give him kids or whatever, but I _can't_.'

'Oh well…' I shrugged. '…I know the feeling, but… shit happens. You can't have everything.'

'Yeah, well, I _hate_ it. I hate being unable to fulfill England's deepest wish. And I know it's bugging him, I know he's trying to find some sort of magical way to make it possible, but I wonder if he'll ever understand he won't ever be a father. Not the way he _wants_ to be, at least.'

I glanced at him. 'Why are you telling me all of this? I mean, that's some pretty serious stuff you're saying. England wouldn't like it if he finds out you told me about his fatherly wishes.'

'Oh yes, he'll probably rip out all of my internal organs and Frisbee my liver into the Northern Sea if he ever finds out I told you this.' America said, face all stern and unmoved.

'Then _why_—'

'Because I want you to understand he's got enough shit bugging him already, Romano. Shit that I _can't _solve for him, no matter how much I'd want to. And that pisses me off. Also, it makes me want to do whatever I can to keep him from experiencing even more sadness and/or disappointments, like… um, well…'

'Like having an intense sex-talk with _me, _right?' I said, leaning on my elbows, a deep scowl forming in my forehead.

'That's right.' He nodded. 'So unless you give me a good – and with good, I mean **good** – reason why I should let you go to that appointment with England, I'm not planning on letting you go _anywhere_.'

I raised a brow. 'I can't go anywhere?'

'That's right!'

'Not even to the bathroom?'

He thought about it.

'Well, maybe I can allow _that_. But only if I can accompany you. You know, to check if you don't try to twist yourself through a bathroom-window or something while peeing.'

…

Huh.

Twisting myself through a small window.

While _peeing_.

…

_Tch_.

'That's… that's just _disgusting_. In _more _than one way.'

'I know. It's _very _disgusting.' America stated. '…so you better not be going to England tomorrow.'

'Oh _yeah_? What if I go anyway?' I snorted, since provoking nations that are able to crumble my own half-nation to mere _dust_ with as much as a snap of their fingers was funny as shit. Somehow.

America made a long face. 'In _that_ case, I'll run after you and smash your face into the ground as soon as you leave the House!'

'Yeah, I had thought you'd do something like that.' I muttered, not very impressed.

'I'm _serious_!' America very seriously said, '…I'd totally do that! But I'd have to do it very sneakily, though, when Spain isn't watching. I wouldn't like it if he would go all "ahahahahahahaha_**GOMYMIGHTYAXE~**_" on me if he'd notice me kicking your ass. And naturally, he'd notice that right away.'

…

…yeah, you could _definitely _tell he didn't know Antonio.

I shot another glare at the blond.

'What? You _really_ think he would fucking _notice _it? Hell, you're talking about _Antonio_, America! Distract the dumb bastard with a red balloon or a piece of string or whatever and he'll be doing _everything_, just _everything,_ _except for_ paying attention to _you_!'

America shook his head.

'Not if it concerns _you_.'

I stared blankly at him, unsure what to say to that – so I just started pulling at the faggy frills of Antonio's ugly blanket instead.

'He likes you a lot, Romano,' America said, trying to stress his point, '…he told me so himself, you know? Right before shoving me these plates with sandwiches in my hands and all.'

'…wait, so you _didn't_ sneak in the House? Antonio _willingly _let you in?' I realized, looking up at him again with a small jolt of my head.

'Oh yes, he did. Because I kind of asked him to be let in after I had heard him descending from the stairs.'

'How did you—'

'I just wailed through the keyhole really loudly.'

'…you wailed through the—'

'Yeah, so Spain opened the door with a _shwoop_, looking crazily happy and blushy and cheerful for some reason,' America carried on, effortlessly pretending to be oblivious to my annoyed "don't-cut-me-off-you-fucking-douchebag"-face, '…and man, I don't know why, but he almost seemed normal on that very moment!'

An awkward, definitely not-nice feeling spread through my chest.

'Don't say mean shit like that. You don't even know what kind of man he is.' I muttered – but I muttered it so softly, I don't think he heard it.

'So anyway,' the American indeed continued without showing any signs he had heard me, '…after Spain had opened the door and was all smiles and friendliness to me, I suddenly felt so fucking _good_, like somebody was stuffing _suns and sparkles_ down my throat, and I was brimming with _so_ much happiness and enthusiasm and sugarless sugar rushes, that I bluntly asked him if I could come in!'

'Why!' I spat.

He laughed. 'Well _duh_, because I wanted to, of course. I wouldn't have asked him otherwise.'

'_That_ was your reason? You wanted to get in because you wanted to get in?' I said, flabbergasted.

America looked at me as if I had just exclaimed to be a hamster.

'That's exactly what I meant, yes – you're a bit slow today, aren't you, Romano? Must be part of the aftersex-effects.'

I felt my face heat up. 'Like _hell_!'

He snickered, but didn't ask further and continued telling his morning adventure with Antonio, which just sounds_ awfully _wrong – thank you, perverted mind.

And now for some incomprehensible babbling.

'So yes, Spain let me into the House for some reason, telling me about how great the weather was and about how fantastic his night full of fucks had been – just kidding Romano, hahahaha – and then he was like,

"I'm making a sandwich for my Lovi-muffin, would you take it to him and _oh_, have a sandwich yourself as well?~"

and, yeah, I was kind of hungry, so I jumped up one of his kitchen sinks and only fell off twice before finally managing to stay put and I was like,

"Can I has sandwiches? :D"

And then he was like,

"LOL aren't you funny now get off my kitchen sink"

But I didn't, so he had to knee-kick me off it.'

_End_.

…

…

…I…

I don't know. I just don't know.

America blinked when he saw the look on my face.

'Too fast for you again?'

I nodded.

'Yes.'

'Should I repea—'

'NO.'

He pouted. 'Aww, you're even crankier than Iggy is the morning after. I mean, at least _he_ always starts chuckling and flushing and calling me an analphabetic twit whenever I try to cheer him and his ass up like this.'

'So? I'm not like your stupid "Iggy".'

'Nope, 'cause you're tough as _nails_ when it comes to cheering up. It makes me wonder what kind of (grammatical) magic Spain has to say to _you_ to make you feel special the morning after.'

…

…wh-what kind of magic Antonio had to say to me to make me feel special the morning after, huh…

…

'_Good morning, my love.~' _

…

America furrowed his brows. 'What are you all of a sudden smiling about? I didn't even _know_ you could knead your face like that!'

I shook my head dismissively and held up my hand.

'Just shut up and give me the damn sandwich already.'

**xXx**

And so, America and I ate sandwiches. Sandwiches with cheese, tomatoes, salt en pepper. And maybe a tad of love.

…

Just on _my _share, of course.

…

Yes, I _know _Antonio couldn't have possibly known what plate I would get, but _still_, my share had the fucking _love _on it. I could _taste_ it.

…

Fuck you, I just _could_, okay!

…

But as usual, I digress.

So anyway, while America and I were stuffing our faces with Antonio's fucking fantastic food, we actually started – and I know I'll be regretting saying this – _bonding_.

Yes. We bonded. While _eating_.

Which was really predictable, of course, since I had always known every single bloody war and other troublesome problem bugging the world could be easily solved with the help of Southern European food – it just really was that shittin' _good_ – and therefore, even being complete opposites with a flaky guy like America wouldn't stop the food from _blending our interests_ and no, I also don't have a clue what the fuck I'm talking about, but it sure sounded perverted.

As everything did.

Oh well.

In any case, we started talking.

I asked America were Antonio was. He told me the moron had rushed off to his tomato field in the backyard in panic after a douchy remark from America ("I was walking along your tomato field this morning and _boy_, I didn't know you could actually _grow_ sun-dried tomatoes!").

Yeah… admittedly, the poor field had indeed been neglected due to Antonio's impulsive Italy-hopping/giving his House to the Spanish government and shit, so I wasn't surprised and I even sarcastically said to America that the Antonio was probably having several tomato-funerals in the backyard right now, weeping.

'Oh, then he'll probably be decorating the tiny graves with just as tiny yellow sombrero's.' America added.

And even though I had to tell America off because of that ("Sombrero's like that aren't _Spanish_, you dumbass, they're fucking _Mexican_!"), I still snorted from laughter, since I couldn't shake the mental image off me of a deadly serious, emotional Antonio, scattering small sombrero's all over the minuscule tomato-graves in slow-motion while he held up his über-gay rainbow-radio playing sad, Spanish/Mexican songs with his other hand.

…

I fucking _roared_.

Well, that _certainly_ broke the ice, even though I was still very naked under that blanket, and before I knew it, I was talking about all sorts of random stuff with him…

…until eventually, the subject of me, leaving to England the very next day, popped up again.

…

Grrr.

He once again told me he would hate it if I would go to England the next day. He feared my visit to his lover would make a lot of nations sad – and also, it would make me look like some kind of an egocentric bastard who didn't care about the feelings of others.

That wasn't nice to hear.

'Look, I _know_ it's kind of selfish of me, but tell me – how _else_ am I _ever_ going to find out who Antonio was and what he has experienced in his past!' I blurted out.

'Wait, _what_?' America confusedly said.

Oops.

…

Yeah, so then I kind of _had_ to tell him about the _real _motives of my visit to England. Which weren't sexy at all.

Still, the blond American listened (my GOD!) to my explanation patiently (what the FUCK!) and very stately stated he wasn't opposed to that idea (idiot had to be curious about England's past as well), and therefore, I was granted his permission to visit England.

'Hooray.' I sneered.

'But!' America said, a finger held up high in the air, '…only if you let me bring you!'

…

Ugh.

I could almost feel my face fall when he said that. I mean, spending one whole afternoon to talking with an annoying guy you never really spoke to before was all very cute, but _no fucking way in hell _did I want to spend _more _afternoons like this.

No offense to America, but it already took me years to get used to _Antonio's_ unavoidable bounciness – I _really _didn't feel like going through that awkward hellhole again, especially not for some dude that I would probably never speak to again after my trip to England anyway.

I absolutely didn't mind that - one of the few pleasant side-effects of being an anti-social bastard - but it still wasn't really worth the effort.

So I told America I'd rather sat my bare, sore butt down in a pile of snakes than have _him_ around for one more day.

'Suit yourself then,' America responded to that, shrugging, '…but man, I hope you realize that ass of yours is going to give you hell if you're seriously planning to drive all the way to England on those insane, cracked, _bumpy_ European roads.'

…

He had a point there.

'Also, I know exactly where you're supposed to go. England told me you would meet him in this (as Iggy says it) _pub_ called _"Dirty Dicks"_ in London – and since you don't know your way in England, my incredible knowledge could come in handy, right?

…

Also a very good point.

'Besides, I want to travel back to England as soon as I can. I've seen enough of Spain. So, well, letting me drive you to London would help a bunch.'

…

Well, since _that_ would instantly help me getting rid of the America-problem in Antonio's garden, this last reason was a very, veryveryvery _good_ reason to let him tag along – maybe even the _best_.

So I half-heartedly agreed in having him as my chauffeur.

'Yeah! You won't regret it!' he grinned broadly and smacked me on the (still covered) butt.

I inhaled through my nose sharply.

Then I kind of fainted.

…

Yeah.

But when I regained my consciousness again and had _thunderously_ exclaimed I'd soooo piss on his fucking House one of these days, we both ultimately decided to leave at 7.30 AM tomorrow morning.

'Don't fucking forget it!' I snarled at him as he, somewhere around dinnertime, finally got off the bed, '…because I'll _burn_ you and your stupid flag-tent _down_ if you have the nerve to be late, you damn douche!'

America just smiled. 'Oh, don't worry about _me_ forgetting – you better make sure _you_ don't forget. You know. To bring a pillow. For your _tush._ Bottom-boy.'

WHAT THE.

I gritted my teeth dangerously and was about to smash a (very hard!) pillow in his smug face, when Antonio suddenly walked into the room, wanting to carry me downstairs for some homemade grub, looking and smelling and sounding all earthy and rainy and manly and stuff, and kindly asked America to get out.

…

Hm?

No, he _really_ asked him _kindly_.

…

Oh, don't act all surprised. Hell, no matter how weird and creepy his moods-wings were, above all, Antonio was a nice guy. A very nice guy.

I could tell.

**xXx**

The rest of the evening was nice.

Antonio and I spend the last remaining hours of the summery day on the veranda outside, watching the recovering tomato fields, the buzzing fireflies…

…

…and the bumbling America, of course. Because he was around.

In fact, he was strolling around the garden with one hand in his pocket as he spoke gentle, whispered words to somebody on his cell phone, having this strange, unusual soft smile on his face as he did so. For one short moment, his smile expanded to a big grin as he looked at me and Antonio sitting on the lonely couch on the veranda (well, actually, _Antonio_ was the one sitting on the couch – I was sitting on his lap) and waved at us, before turning around again.

…

Oh, shut up. I only sat on Antonio's lap because the fucking couch was made from wood and therefore way too hard for my sensitive, molested butt, I swear! I swea…

…

...ugh, why do I even still bother denying shit, dammit. Nobody believes me anyway. **I** didn't even believe me. That just shows… something. Whatever _that_ is.

Suddenly, a warm surprise kiss was pressed on the back of my neck.

'Did you became friends with America today, Lovino?' Antonio asked, his voice already a bit sleepy and heavy.

'_**Pssh**_!' I snorted, rolling my eyes and rubbing my somewhat cold arms, '…are you freaking nuts? No way I could be friends with that fickle moron.'

He laughed. 'Well, you were also able to be friends with _me, _so—'

'I'm _not_ fucking friends with you.' I muttered, now folding my arms and leaning back in his embrace. '…I-I'm your… y-your…'

'My what-now, Lovi?~' Antonio smiled and hugged me tightly.

I gulped.

'…I'm y-your _love_, right?'

'You are.' He nodded. 'Um, but Lovi?'

'What?'

'You like being my love, right?'

I flushed, but Antonio thankfully couldn't see.

'…y-yeah, I like it, dammit.'

'And I'm yours, right?'

'My love, you mean?' I frowned, glancing over my shouder.

I couldn't see his face anymore – damn dusk – but I _did _see those two green eyes, looking at me so damn tenderly I could feel it in my fucking toes.

'No, Lovi… I'm _yours_.' he repeated slowly.

'Y-you're mine?' I asked – why the hell did I ask, dammit, '…as in…'

'As in everything I am, yes. It's all yours.'

I felt my own eyes spreading themselves a bit as I quickly turned my head back and looked at the American, walking back to his flag. Or tent – _the hell _it was.

'H-he must feel lonely, right.' I mumbled, holding back a shudder as Antonio rubbed circles on my stomach and chest.

'Hm-hm.' He sighed and let his head lean on my shoulder. 'Probably. But he'll be back with that damn eyebrowed bastard tomorrow anyway, so don't let that bother you, my love.'

'I know. But feeling lonely sucks. I'd hate it to feel that way.'

He teasingly poked my side. 'I won't let you feel that way.'

'…a-are you going to hug me all night then?'

It was more of a question than a assumption, really.

Antonio knew and chuckled again. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you?~'

'I'm not saying that!'

'Ah, but you're thinking it!~'

'I'm no—'

'Don't worry, sweetie. I'll hug and kiss you as much as we both want tonight. Okay?'

I nodded sheepishly. 'Y-yes.'

'Great! Now…'

He took a better hold on me and stood up from the couch.

'It's late… We should go to bed.' He yawned a bit, '…oh, I'll be grateful to go to sleep after working in the fields all day long…'

I clung on to him a bit better as he went back inside the House, and I took one last, also kind of drowsy look to America's sad flag-tent. Looks like he was still talking to England.

It automatically made me grasp Antonio's shirt between my fists, suddenly feeling very thankful that I _wasn't _going to be alone tonight. No – I was going to be hold and hugged by the one I loved, kissed and spoiled by the one I loved, while he had to do it with just one stupid phone call.

Such a _sad_ phone call, though.

…

…

But I'd still fucking kick his American ass if he didn't wake up on time tomorrow morning, dammit.

**xXx**

The very next morning, I got up around 7.15 AM, which meant I only had fifteen lame minutes left before being too late for me and America's appointment.

…

Well shit.

I still had to take a shower, get dressed, do my hair, brush my teeth, do my hair again, shave, give up and scowl at my unruly hair and get my recharged cell phone (nooooo, I wouldn't forget that motherfucker anymore), before I'd be ready to go.

No way I could do all of that within fifteen fucking minutes! Not with that (still sore) butt of mine!

…

But miraculously enough, I actually managed to do all of that within just ten minutes!

YES!

But of course, I couldn't share my new personal record with Antonio (yet), because that Spanish dweep was still fast asleep when I quietly shuffled out of the bathroom – step by step, bit by bit.

I… I just wouldn't want to wake him up. He always seemed so damn carelessly, so damn _stupid_ when he was asleep…

…besides, even though he hadn't complained much about America bringing me to England – told him about that yesterday, after dinner – I had seen the worry, the silent insecurity in his eyes. So I really shouldn't wake him up.

That was damn handy about his eyes: they literally were the mirrors of his soul. Really pretty ones, too.

…

…a-anyway, I should be going now.

I took a breath and slowly, _carefully_ started moving in around in the faint darkness, towards the door…

…but I was temporary stopped in all of my movements when I heard a sudden _thump_ and a few hasty footsteps, hurrying themselves in my direction. Then a hand enclosed itself around my arm and made me turn around.

I wanted to say something, but before I was able to, my body was pressed against a very warm, almost naked body and my lips were captured in a clumsy kiss.

'Make sure you get back here as soon as possible, Lovino.' Antonio murmured in my ear, directly after pulling back, '…I still have… that question for you, my love…'

I awkwardly wiped my mouth and blushed brightly, instantly remembering this question.

'I-I will.' I promptly promised – and gently pushed him back to the bed, '…I will, Antonio… y-you bet I will. I wouldn't want to miss your question for the world.'

I would have liked it if Antonio had reacted a bit like, "gosh, Lovi, it's almost if you know!~" or "screw tonight – I'll just ask you now!~"…

…but he only laughed softly, told me he loved me and crawled back in-between the sheets of the bed, falling asleep again almost immediately.

…

What the fuck was his secret?

**xXx**

When I came outside and shut the door behind me a bit later, I nearly got a heart attack when I was greeted with two blinding lights and a loud _HOOOOOONK_.

'Hi Romano! Good _morning_!' a familiar American voice shouted – and then I was finally able to see a bit more than just those two round lights and noticed America – what are the odds – sitting behind the wheel of Antonio's trusty, yet still very crappy car, grinning and making the peace sign at me.

…

Fuck, that stupid bastard!

I _stormed_ to the car, _tore_ the door open, got into the damn vehicle, smacked my tomato-pillow (what, it was the softest Antonio got!) on the passenger's seat, whacked the door shut again and took a minute to catch my breath… before twisting myself to America – to flip him off.

_Up close!_

…

Fucking dramatic, I know.

America sighed. 'Aww, what the hell, Romano. Stop shoving your middle finger in my face – it makes me look cross-eyed.'

'You fucking idiot!' I hissed, fastening my belt as America started the engine, '…don't you know there are people trying to _sleep_ around here!'

'Really? Even after all that noise I made?' America clacked his tongue in amazement. 'Man, those Spaniards are _stubborn_! If they want to sleep, _damn _they want it!'

I stared at him with a blank look on my face.

'I really don't know what to think of you, you know that?'

America laughed a bit and drove away from Antonio's House's area.

'Yeah – I get that a lot.'

**xXx**

And so, we took off.

Our destination? London, England. Some vague pub. Yaaaaay.

…

Now let's hope we'd get there nice and safely.

You know.

Without me trying to murder America.

..._ugh_.


	40. Gluteus Maximus II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __**No update next week**__ – __**Next update = July 9**__**th**__**. **__You know the reason why. I'm struggling like mad to get my shit together, so I need my full concentration for school. Sorry for that. _OTL. _Hope you'll all understand._

_A/n2: At last, Lovi has gone off to England. FINALLY. _*sighs* _Sorry for the long, loooooong wait for that, I still had some mindless/useless chattering to do. But in this chapter, everyone's favorite Brit will finally show up… oh god, I wonder how I'll do HIM.  
_…  
_That's a very perverted thing to say. But since I happen to like Brits (and apparently, 17-year-olds), I'm not going to correct myself.~_

_A/n3: Not so much Spamano in this chapter – expect some USUK instead._^^ _I had never expected myself to ever write something with this popular couple in it, but I did… and I have to say, I didn't dislike writing it! I still prefer Spamano above every other couple, of course, but this pairing's pretty cute as well. _

_A/n4: Just to let you know: the ages of America, England, Romano and Spain I use in this fic are all **canon**. Not too sure about England's age (I read it was 23, but one of my online friends said it was 22 - and now I'm confused, LOL), but in this fic, it's 23. Hope that's okay with you!_^^;;;

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XL:  
_**  
Add This Song – The Gluteus Maximus Mix  
**__**(Gus Gus**__**)**_

London. Let me tell you something about London.

London was the kind of city that made you feel like a helpless, dopey (and preferable _fat_) tourist – even if you had been living in the damn city for years.

…

Hm?

Oh _sure_, I can hear you, nagging about minor details: ooooh, but Romano/Lovino/South Italy, how could _**you**_, an unspeakable handsome Italian badass who doesn't even live in England, know about local London people getting lost in London? Does it even make _sense _what you're implying? Can you give us reasons _why _you're thinking this way?

…well, I don't know.

But it really wouldn't surprise me at all if it happened to be the truth. So _yes,_ yes, I just assume it _is_ the truth, no matter how lame my indeed very doubtful reasoning is.

Now shut up about it already and get a fucking life.

_Tch__._

…

So anyway…

London really was… a _city_-city. You know, a broad, enormous city with a lot of streets and a suffocating skyline. The city was so damn _crammed_ with tall buildings, random extremely old as well as extremely new old buildings and other quirky things that made me stare at its oddness in awe, that it made me come to the following disturbing conclusion: the humongous city was probably suffering from a… _**multiple personality disorder! **_

Old and new. Cool and stiff. See what I mean? See it?

…

Well,_ I_ see it.

And it makes perfect sense in context, dammit.

…

Moving on…

London definitely was _the_ busiest capital city I had ever visited so far. And even though I had already seen similar places like London (I was sure Amsterdam and Berlin were almost just as cold, crowded and noisy), they got _nothing _on _this _shit.

I mean, _God_, those old/new streets here were so very crowded, it would most likely cause people from Spain and other more laid-back nations to get an acute burn-out from merely _watching _those English bastards rushing all over the place.

Now that would be an image.

Let's take Antonio for example (since he's such a great Spanish example and since this very part of the sentence amuses me way more than it should be – taking Antonio: _snicker._):

Just imagine that _simmering hot_ idiot confusedly walking around on a crossing in London with nothing but a heavy backpack, a nerdy shirt saying "_Don Quixote Was My Bitch, Bitch_" and a horrible, foldable map (the kind that you could unfold to your heart's content and as much as you wanted to, but you could _**never**_ fold it back to its original, handy take-away form, _**ever **__**again**_).

Done picturing that? Good.

Now imagine him again, with the backpack, shirt and Map of Terror, but _now_ with one of those crazy square, red buses _racing _towards him at full speed.

…

Knowing Antonio, he'd probably wonder (in that lazy, awfully slow way of processing unexpected happenings around him of his) if it was okay for him to panic right then and there, or right _after _that big bus had mercilessly flattened him.

…

Holy shit, he'd be a pancake. Either way, he'd be a _fucking pancake_.

I wish I was kidding, but I wasn't. Seriously. That absentminded moron would die within _seconds _when crossing a road in London.

Not only because the cars drove pretty fast and because the air was thick with exhaust gases that sometimes caused me to cough, but also because…

THEY ALL DROVE ON THE FUCKING WRONG SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD HERE!

**xXx**

'You okay, Romano? Something wrong?'

America stopped for a traffic light and raised a brow when he saw me stiffly sitting next to him, watching the trucks driving by on the other side of the road – the _right _side, the side that America and I should be on instead of those trucks, since it was the _wrong_ side for _them _and the _right _side for _us_!

…

Look, I don't care if that sentence's confusing - it still is _true_, dammit!

So I snapped my head to the undisturbed American – _ouch_, too fast, cracked my fucking neck, ow ow ow – and _glared_ at him, as hard as one with a cracked neck could.

'Something's _wrong_? You ask me if something's _wrong_, huh? You bet your fucking floopy hair something's wrong, you jackass! We're driving on the left side of the road – what the hell's with _that_!'

'Driving on the left side of the road is considered normal here, Romano - no, scratch that: it's even an _obligation _here. You die if you don't. I think. ' America patiently said – and popped a mini-chocolate cookie in his mouth that came out of fucking _nowhere_.

Then, after he had swallowed the cookie, his face suddenly fell. 'Also: what the _fuck_, I have floopy hair? Aw _hell_ no, I _knew_ I shouldn't have used Iggy's shampoo when I took that shower this morning – it's too English for my American hair. Dang.'

…what?

I paused my panic-moment and instantly narrowed my eyes.

'Wait a minute… you took a _shower_ this morning? A real one?'

'Of course! I don't want to stink.' he said, nodding. '…besides, I don't think there are such things as fake showers, Romano. A shower is a shower – god, even your dorky brother knows that.'

I fisted my hands and grumbled, annoyed. 'I _know_ a shower is a fucking shower, dammit…'

'Good for you, Romano!' he exclaimed, 'God, I wish I could give you some kind of motivational applause or something, but no can do: my hands are on the wheel and all.'

I winced. '_Fuck_ you, douche!'

'Boy, you sure like that word, don't you? Douche douche douche. It's everywhere. Which reminds me! Did you know "douche" is French for shower? Hahaha!'

I blinked, thought of something witty to say to that, ultimately gave up and decided to drop the entire subject and just… just tried to ask the shower-bag what I wanted to ask him.

'Look, America, cut the crap already. I just want to know more about that damn shower you took! I mean… _how,_ for God's sake? And _when_? _Where_?'

'Oh, that's easy… how: by walking through the door of Spain's House (forgot to lock the door, Romano? Tssk tssk!), when: this morning, and where… um, yeah, Spain's bathroom.' the American explained.

My cheeks were starting to feel horribly hot again when I realized something.

'…b-but you have to go through Antonio's bedroom to get to his… bathroom…'

'Pretty much.' He smiled slyly.

'T-that means that you…' I mumbled.

'…had to walk through his bedroom to get there, yes.'

'S-so… did you see…'

'Damn _straight_ I did. And I must say, you and that cuddly axe-thrower make the gayest couple I've ever seen! Really cute!'

…

One of my eyes started twitching. Oh, _nice_. The American douchebag thought Antonio and I were _cute_.

Well, wasn't that just motherfucking _great_. God, I kind of regretted hugging that damn sweet Spaniard so fucking lovingly this morning now.

But I actually didn't regret it.

Well, fuck my life.

…

Oh. Hey.

Then I guess America's showering quest this morning was the reason why I had found wet towels and a very condensed mirror this morning, when I was about to go shower myself.

I just realized that.

…

Damn, America was right: I was dorky as _shit_. Maybe even dorkier than Feliciano.

_**Gasp**_!

That's what you get for spending too much time with a Spanish goofball.

**XxX**

Driving to England with that stupid American weirdo as the one behind the wheel was almost as safe as driving to a random strip joint with France or Prussia as the ones behind the wheel:

Fucking_ suicide_.

And optionally, rape.

Because, you see, for some not-explained reason, America thought it was necessary to race through Europe like a freaking psychotic _maniac_. He just stepped on the gas, stepped on the gas a little _more_ when we arrived at the border of France ("I don't like that bearded guy very much – he reminds me of a bad Jesus-interpretation!") and _really _downright_ assaulted_ that poor accelerator when we were about to reach Belgium ("Ooh, not _Belgium_ – I gained too much weight the last time I ate some of that girl's chocolate!").

…I sure hoped the perverted voices in my head were wrong about the dubiousness of that sentence.

But anyway, all this time, I was sitting next to America, pressed into the fucking seat as if the damn thing was trying to _swallow _me whole, on the verge of tears and pissing my (designer) pants out of sheer frustration, anger, misery and absolutely not-feminine fear. I had been gripping the seat madly and _god, _did I curse a lot during that awful road trip. My heart was pounding so hard, for one moment I was actually expecting it to jump out of my chest and shout at me to _chill the fuck out _already, _dammit_.

…

But nevertheless, we made it to London – otherwise I wouldn't be able to have given that oh so very _bad_, extremely-influenced-by-the-fear-description of London.

God, I don't think I had ever giving such a sucky description of a capital city before. It was embarrassing, really.

But this city – this _whole damn country_ confused me too much, it was just too different from what I was used to, back in Spain.

Italy, I mean.

No, I mean Spain, really.

…

Well, at least I _didn't_ mean _England_.

People driving on the left side of the road… people living in very old buildings that could have been art and calling buildings art that just really _were _a load of old buildings… the buses… the madness on the streets… America wearing fucking sunglasses _over his regular glasses…_

It was too much for me. Just too much. Way too much.

So you can easily imagine what my mental state was when America finally pulled over and pointed to a certain, interesting-looking building, a bit further away:

'Looks like we made it, Romano: there's _Dirty Dick's_!'

…

YES

OH GOD

_YES!_

Call me weird for saying this, but I had never been _so fucking_ _happy_ to hear someone say a sentence that contained both the words "dirty" and "dicks" _ever _before.

…

It sure was an experience.

**XxX**

When I first noticed the café, I knew immediately that _Dirty Dick's _was a very… peculiar kind of… _pub_.

It looked kind of cramped, the way it was squished in-between two completely different buildings – and even one from above, what the _fuck_?

The colors were completely off if you compared it to the colors of the buildings sandwiching the little café: the colors of the pub were darkish, gloomy, old. And brown. Very brown. Why the hell were most of the cafés I visited _brown_? Was it the new black or something? Did it match with everything? Or was that the only color drunkards could still be able to see after pouring ten barrels of alcohol down their sore throats? One could only wonder.

Fact was, those sure were some suspicious plants, dangling above the entrance.

I yanked America's sleeve – fucking impatient bastard was already about to just _dive _into the pub like a damn _lemming_, so I figured I had to act fast – and pointed to the plants, hanging above us.

'What the hell are _those_, douchebag? _Marihuana-plants_? Damn, I didn't know England was into that kind of shit! Living close to that pothead mustn't do him very good, huh?' I snorted. God, I sounded weird. Guess I was already getting stoned from the unusual smell coming from the plants.

America was surprised and looked up as well. Then his face dropped and he looked back at me.

'Romano, see those purple-and-yellow things, nestled between those pretty small, _not_-suspiciously-shaped leafs? Yes? Now, does marihuana look like that?'

I… _slowly_ began to realize my mistake, but was too proud and stubborn to admit it and folded my arms.

'Well… well, maybe it's a very _rare_ kind of marihuana.'

'Those are _violets_, Romano.'

I grumbled and put my hands in my pockets. 'Yeah, well… just what bastard hangs stupid fucking violets above his café's entrance, dammit.'

'Romano.' America looked a bit annoyed and put his hands on his sides. '…are you done stalling time? God, I know London might be a bit too big for a simpleminded guy like you, but come on! I haven't seen Iggy in days! I need to refill my Iggy-batteries already!'

I shuddered and moved a few steps away from him. 'God, you're disgusting.'

'And _you _are _unreasonable_. Hurry the hell up, Bottom-boy.'

And before I could even vocalize my anger because of that horrible nickname, the American pulled me into the pub.

**XxX**

I had expected it to be quite dark in the pub, since that's what cafés, pubs and everything that looked/smelled like cafés and pubs were: dark. And moldy. And the air was always filled with the stench or cigarettes and booze. Like the air of that creepy café with the weird name from Moscow was – fuck, I still wonder just _how _to say that damn café's name…

But I think there were all kinds of punctuation marks and symbols involved in its name, somehow.

Just a hunch.

…

But anyway, _Dirty Dick's _was nothing like a scary place to be – thank _god_.

Oh no, it was a very sophisticated looking pub, with bright lamps giving a light, yellow kind of shine to everything, a lot of wooden furniture, old, yet stylish tables and chairs, and a freakishly long bar that seemed to cover the whole wall in the back of the café. There were fresh flowers standing on every table and the few people sitting around in the pub seemed to be clean, _shaved_ and… well, _normal_. At least more normal than I had seen in Russia.

Seriously, the ambiance wasn't too bad. Maybe it even was fairly _nice_. But it probably wasn't going to get better commentaries from me, because I could also feel some sort of super-frustrated/stressed-out/gonnakillmyselfbyanxiety-aura, not too far away from the long bar.

Right on that moment, America, all of a sudden as excited as a fucking child running free in a candy shop, smacked me on the back and nearly squashed my face into an iron pillar.

'There he is, Romano! Over there!'

I decided to postpone my yelling-into-his-fucking-face-'cause-_whatthefuckishisproblemdammit-_plans for a while and looked in the direction the happy American nodded.

And indeed, next to the bar, in a lone corner, was England.

Pacing in front of his table (which was loaded with documents and other kinds of crap) like only _true_ British people can:

Quickly, spazzy and yet strangely elegant.

Almost a bit like Antonio – but without the "elegant" part and _with _the "stumbling" part.

…

No, wait – that was me.

…

Anyway, that's were England was and that's what the English asshole was doing.

He looked very busy, calling and walking and _swooshing_ through the thick, massive files on the old, not very stable table - and all at the same time, too. He had took off his jacket (and he was actually wearing a _fucking lame ugly Spencer over his white button-down what the __**hell**_) and judging by his twisted face, he was tired as fuck.

It still didn't stop him from being freakishly _loud _on the telephone.

'No! No no no _no_, you Icelandic _tosser_, I don't _care _your bloody people don't want to pay me the money back that we oh so kindly lend out to your stupid bank – I'm telling you they _have_ to! They don't have a choice! Just fork over the money already!'

Few seconds of silence and some crazy teeth-gritting magic from England's side.

'What? You "don't understand why"? BECAUSE IT WAS A _LOAN_, YOU GIT! NOT A GIFT! What do you take me for, Santa Claus?'

America groaned softly and rolled his eyes at me. 'Don't get me wrong, Romano, I usually like the tone of his voice since it's so British and bitchy and arrogant, which all means the same thing, really, but I'd rather jump through a window than to be Iceland right now.'

'He's having problems with Iceland?' I asked him.

'Oh yes. Lots of problems,' he said, '…and he's not the only European nation that is having problems with him. Most of the nations close to Iceland experience some difficulties with him right now, because of one hell of a loan that an Icelandic bank received from Western European nations or whatever, in order to keep it from collapsing…'

Loan? Iceland? Collapsing banks? European nations having problems with… something-something?

'W-what the fuck, I know _nothing_ about all of that…' I stammered in a weird voice I barely recognized as my own – and immediately felt incredibly stupid for realizing that I didn't know _shit _about my own continent. I mean, I _know_ I hadn't paid a lot of attention to the news lately, with Antonio being sick and all, but my _god_, if even _America_ knew about the trouble in my continent better than me…

God, I should be _ashamed_!

'WELL, IN THAT CASE, YOU CAN SHOVE THAT ICE-VULCANO OF YOURS RIGHT UP YOUR _ARSE_!'

And with that having said, England turned to the wall and _flung_ the cell-phone against the wall with an angry grunt, red face and _all _of his might, scattering bits of the poor thing all over the wooden floor as it broke down in little pieces of phone.

Then he glared at the floor, panting and growling and leaning on the table as he puffed away at his cigarette.

'That bloody… bloody _prick_…'

…

Cigarette?

England _smoked_?

I looked up at America, expecting him to nod or make another stupid remark about England ("Oh yes, he smokes, since he's _smokin'!~ _Catch my drift? Haha!"), but…

There was _horror _written all over the American's face as he suddenly made a gasping noise and _jumped _at the exhausted Brit, who almost slipped off the table when he saw that hyperactive moron bouncing his way, like some huge, American… ball. The hell I know.

'A-Alfr… merica!' England stuttered, '…w-what in the name of all that's good and English are _you_ doing here!'

'Kirkland!' America responded, still stomping his way to the startled Englishman until they were standing face to face, '…why the hell are you _smoking_!'

England cocked his head. 'What in the world are you blabbering about? I am _not_ smoking! Smoking is a disgusting human habit and I would _never_ do it! You know that, you brat!'

'But you're doing it right now!' America pointed out.

'Oh sod off, there's no way I'm…'

England got a bit silent when he, too, saw the fuming cigarette between his fingers. He gulped and started trembling when the realization sank in.

'O-oh my GOD, I AM smoking!'

'No _shit _you are!'

'Get it away from me! Put it out – just put the bloody thing _out_!'

The Brit dropped the cigarette on the floor and planted his foot on it over and over again, flailing his arms as he kept crying out what the hell was wrong with him, why the fuck he was smoking and why the _bloody thing just kept fuming so very evilly_!...

…until America, who had been watching England's personal freak-out-session with a blank, bored look, simply grabbed the sides of the Brit's face had leaned towards him.

England, visually _overwhelmed _by the sudden kiss-attack of his younger lover, struggled against it for a bit, squirming in the American's arms and pounding the other's back aggressively, until he calmed down, bit by bit, letting his arms fall to his sides, his somewhat bend knees trembling terribly as he allowed himself to get kissed.

And during all of this, I was standing just behind America, feeling slightly embarrassed and awkward.

…

Since it _was_ awkward.

…

But now I kind of felt what that American douche must have felt when he had seen me face-sucking Antonio a few days earlier.

It wasn't a nice feeling.

Finally, after nearly five minutes of full-blown sloppy kissing, America pulled away, frowning as he looked down on the now-blushing Englishman's face.

'You taste like smoke.'

'Hm…mnhm…' England mumbled stubbornly, pushing against his chest, trying to create some distance between them.

But America wouldn't let him and held on to his face.

'Feeling better now, Iggy?'

'N-none of your business, y-you stupid brat… a-and don't call me that. A-and let go of me already!'

America shook his head and sighed. 'Man. You should really take a break from work every now and then, you know?'

'Certainly _not_. I _can't_ take a bloody break.' England looked away from him, face still very red. '…I've got duties. I still have to cuss out millions of ignorant people, for God's sake…'

'You don't have to do that at all.'

'Well, then maybe I _want _to. Do that. Since shouting at people calms my nerves.'

'Like smoking does?'

England jolted his head up. 'Quit saying that! I'm telling you, I had no _idea_ I was smoking! It just was… _there, _all of a sudden! Out of nowhere! Sitting between my fingers and… and…'

His voice died when he, at last, noticed me, staring at him with an uncertain scowl on my face.

'Um. Hello.' I said uneasily.

The Brit's face became even _more_ flustered and he hissed, now succeeding in freeing himself from America. Then he looked from me to America in turns.

'…America, what the devil is that Italian _wanker_ doing here?'

…

Italian _whatnow_?

…

The _fuck_?

I deepened the frown on my forehead. Don't get me wrong though – frowning or not frowning, I was still kind of scared of England, probably because he was the most powerful nation that had managed to beat Antonio during those crazy Middle Ages (or whenever that stupid Spanish Armada was brought down)…

…also, his caterpillar-eyebrows scared the shitting daylight out of me.

Meanwhile, America chuckled and ruffled England's dirty blond hair.

'Have you forgotten already, old man? You had an appointment with that "Italian wanker"!'

'I know – cut it out, get your paws off me! – I know very well I had an appointment with him! But I hadn't expect him to show up _this _early!' The Englishman glared at me and folded his arms, quickly glancing back at the foureyed American, '…besides, I also hadn't expect _you _to show up all of a sudden. I thought you were having a rather jolly holiday in Spain – and I _never _thought I'd ever say that.'

'Oh no, you're right – I was having a great time in Spain! Nice weather, nice people, nice food…' America hesitated for a moment, '…and Romano and Spain himself were pretty nice as well.'

England pursed his lips together and huffed bitterly. 'How _lovely_. I still don't know why you brought him here _personally_, though.'

America ignored the nasty tone in the Brit's voice and swung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him and England. It happened too quickly for me to protest, so I didn't.

'I _had _to bring him personally!' the blond douche defended himself, '…he and Spain had too much sex this week – believe me, I know – and so he can't sit down or drive a car without screaming out in agony! So I very selflessly decided to take him to London.'

My face flushed instantly and I jabbed an elbow in his ribcage.

'Romano!' America gave me a stern look. 'That almost _hurt_!'

'Shut your fucking face!' I snarled, feeling _extremely_ exposed, '…did you REALLY have to say that? REALLY, America? Goddammit!'

'Aha.' England nodded slowly, not very impressed. '…so you've had a lot of sex. Right. Well, yes, that definitely explains the silly walk and shapeless pillow you're carrying.'

'Hey – it's the shape of a _tomato_!' I corrected him with a glare.

He shrugged. 'If you say so. I'm not entirely convinced, though. It looks more like an apple to me.'

I wanted to snap at him (confusing a tomato-shape for an apple-shape – god, that was _blasphemy!_), but I didn't know what to say.

Because… well…

...you see, one of the first things that surprised me when I was standing next to America and in front of England, was the fact that the walking eyebrow wasn't very… tall.

…

No, _seriously_. England wasn't much bigger than me. To be honest, I think we had the same height.

…

But Antonio was taller than me. Not a lot taller, but still… _taller_.

This meant that the country that had scarred my lover the most had been _smaller _than he was himself. Smaller than all of the other countries that had (one way or the other) topped him so far. France, Prussia, the Netherlands, Austria, Russia…they had all been taller. Most of them had been _older _as well.

'How old are you?' I abruptly heard myself ask him, not even muttering or mumbling when I asked it - _and_ brutally interrupting yet another love quarrel between the two English-speaking nations.

The bitching stopped right away and the fierce, green orbs of the Englishman eyed me curiously.

'How old I am?'

'In human years.' I nodded.

'Um. 23, I guess – why?'

My eyes widened a bit.

That was _my _human age as well.

'I'm 19 years old!' America interrupted, grinning broadly, '…I've been 19 for ages now! Isn't that strange? Hahaha!'

'Nobody asked _you_ anything, you brainless brat.' England rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, pressing some paper money in the American's hands.

'…here, order a tea for me and that wanker, and get yourself some—'

'Coffee!' America prompted.

England shivered and shook his head. '_No_, I was talking about a soda pop. You like soda pops, don't you? Well, order _that_. Or get yourself some milk – whatever suits you best.'

'Coffee suits me best. The good, American kind. You know the one.'

'Look you bloody twit, do you _want_ a free drink or _not_!'

I didn't really catch what the two nations started to bicker about _this _time, since there was blood rushing in my ears.

He…

He had the same _height_ as me.

The same _age_ as me.

His temper was a lot like mine as well.

Plus, he also blurted out "milk" when he knew nothing better to say when it concerned ordering a drink.

Valuable information - I could feel it.

…

Still, I didn't know why, but all this valuable information was starting to scare me.

**xXx**

After nagging and awkwardly flirting with America for about ten fucking minutes, England had _finally_ managed to send the douchebag off to the bar – hell, he had even managed to let him order tea for _himself _as well.

So now, the two of us were alone – and I couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing.

'Right…'

England took a deep breath and beckoned me to follow him to his table.

'This way, Romano.'

I nodded and followed him. I silently scolded myself for acting so damn _meek_, but a part of me was telling me I _should_ act this way – telling me that today, there were probably a lot of things that I was going to know about… about…

Antonio?

England?

_Myself?_

I didn't know.

But I _did_ know it was important for me to listen to all what England had to say.

'Hey. Are you okay?'

I looked up from the table, still a bit dazzled by my discoveries of earlier, and stared right into the somewhat concerned face of the Englishman – who had just finished tidying the table.

Then I shook my head a bit.

'No? You're not okay?' England observed.

I shook my head again.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head.

'Very well. Um. Right. Look, Romano, if I have startled you with my rude behavior – I'm s… _mnf_.'

He frowned. He looked like he was having difficulties saying so... sorr... nmk... the_ s-word._

I bit my lower lip. God, we even had _that _in common.

'You know what I mean, right?' England then said, giving up on saying the s-word.

'I know exactly what you mean.' I said.

He gave me a strange look… but seemed to understand and smiled a bit – just a little bit, not as widely as he smiled when he was being close to America, nor as widely as _**I **_smiled when I was being close to Antonio.

'Why do you think you know exactly what I mean, Romano?'

'Because…' I began hoarsely, '…because… fuck, you're just like _me_, dammit…'

'No, I'm not "_just"_ like you.' England resolutely said.

'You _are_!' I said, a bit harder this time, '…you _are_ just like me! Shit, I was always aware we had _some _things in common, but this is ridiculous...'

He intertwined his hands and fingers together and nodded, unfazed.

'Does it frighten you?'

'Y-you _bet_ it does!' I clenched my hands together and looked away from him, '…what the hell, what does this mean, w-what does this say about the me and Antonio, and the way he sees _me_…'

'It means nothing at all.' The Brit simply said. 'So please, don't tire yourself with such idiotic assumptions – especially since you know yourself you're being irrational.'

'How do _you_ know! As if you know everything about Antonio's feelings or personality!' I snorted.

'I don't, and I'm happy I don't.'

'Then why—'

'Because before Spain and I clashed, we both already had at least two small nations we were taking loving care of. In other words, before we had ever talked or really met each other, we already loved our dear little colonies with all of our hearts - I think that was the single thing we had in common.'

I stared at him.

'Don't you get it now? I already loved Alf… America before I got to know Spain. He already loved _you_ before he got to know _me_. So your personality doesn't remind him of me, but of _you_.' he explained.

'Wait a minute, does that mean that America's personality doesn't remind you of Antonio's at _all_?' I frowned, still staring.

England gave me a disgusted look.

'Good _god_, Romano, whatever gives you the blasted idea America and Spain have matching personalities! That's _rubbish_! They are _nothing_ like each other!'

…

…

Strange.

Very strange.

But hearing the Englishman say he didn't think America and Spain looked like each other… it relieved me so much, _so so so damn much, _I was actually on the verge of tears.

'Romano?' England clacked his tongue nervously and leaned on his arms, '…I don't want to be blunt or change the subject – well, actually I DO want to change the bloody subject – but I know why you're here.'

'You know, huh?' I said, rubbing my eyes with a weak smile on my lips. 'Figures...'

'America told me all about it last night.'

'And?'

'And... well... you're probably not going to like what I'm going to tell you.' He sighed and also started biting his lip, '…but if you really want to know, I'm willing to tell you everything you want to hear about the past. Mine and Spain's past.'

I nodded. 'That's…'

'But ONLY if… if America's allowed to hear it, too. He deserves to know it as well.'

He gave me a hopeful glance.

I agreed. 'Okay. It'll only increase the accuracy of your story, anyway.'

England narrowed his eyes. 'Sly little bastard.'

'Yeah, fuck you too.'

**XxX**

Now…

Looks like all we had to do was wait for America, before I could finally hear the story that Antonio had never wanted to tell me.

…

That shouldn't take too long.


	41. Curves II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: …annnnnd I'm back again!~ Hi – and thank you all for your never-ending patience. You guys are simply fantastic, that's one thing I know for sure now after receiving all those supportive reviews from you._^^  
_So here you are – an extra early update from yours truly. Next week, the update's on Saturday again, but since you've all been so nice to me, I decided to update a few hours earlier today!~_

_A/n2: Also, I have good news: I __**passed**__!~ _:DDDDDDDDDDDDD _I made it to the final year of my study, which means I'm a senior now. A senior! Me! Never thought I'd be so happy to be called a senior!_^^ _Now let's hope I'll be able to keep this up, then I'll be able to call myself a full-fledged pedagoog (in English: Theorist of Pedagogy) next year around this time. Huzzah! _

_A/n3: Warning: major moodswing-chapter ahead. I'm serious, the emotions are flying EVERYWHERE. Gaah. Also: __**BIGGEST CHAPTER EVER.**_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLI:

_**Perfect Curves  
**__**(Soul Soda feat. CB**__**)**_

While we were waiting for that stupid American bastard to return (bet he was ordering some really expensive and extremely un-English drink, exactly like England had forbidden him to do because America was _douchey_ like that), England was acting like a total spazz.

And when I say "a total spazz", I sure as hell _mean_ "a total spazz".

Because right now, the Brit was nervously trying to clean the table the both of us were being at, quickly grabbing the ballpoints, papers and documents spread all over the tabletop, wiping away the crumbs of something that sort of looked like the wrapping of a cupcake he had probably been eating earlier, lightening a cigarette – then realizing what the fuck he was doing, cursing loudly and finally putting it out again (_"Why, just __**why**__ the bloody hell do I keep on doing that!"_) – and _finally_, flinging everything he was carrying in his arms into a large, schoolish-looking brown bag, that was immediately approved by me as a handy and very stylish bag, since I looked at it a bit longer than I intended to do and therefore it _had _to be a cool item.

It was _the rule of cool_.

Even though the thing wasn't Italian at all. Oh no, it was so very British it almost hurt my eyes, dammit. Strong _tea-vibes_ coming from it and all. But that was okay: I should be expanding my fashion-and-style-horizon every now and then anyway.

…

Not too much, though, since I wasn't really fond of tea.

…

And I don't know either what the fucking _fuck_ that had got to do with anything.

…

Anyway…

'That bag,' I started, out of the blue, pointing at the luxury item standing against England's chair, '…it's really nice.'

…

Alright, I know that was a lame opening, but come on. I really didn't know anything else to say. It was just a half-assed, but well-meant attempt of me to lighten the somewhat nerve-wrecking mood here, dammit...

'Hm? You think so? Thank you.' England responded absentmindedly and ran a hand through his hair, looking over his shoulder – probably wondering what the fuck was taking America so long.

He scoffed at the sight of the grinning and waving American ("Hi Iggy! Sure hope you are enjoying watching me!") and sat down on his chair again with a scowl almost as large as his eyebrows.

'Heh. Just _look_ at that brat. Thinking he's _all_ _that_, with his sparkling personality and good looks and stupid blue eyes that always make me lose track of time.'

I frowned as well. 'Sounds like you're _also_ thinking he's _all that_ though.'

The Englishman thought about my words for a short while, blinking. And gathering a faint blush on his face.

Then he turned his flushed head to me with a _jolt_.

'I am _not _thinking he's _all that_ at _all_!'

I snorted. 'You so fucking _are too _thinking he's _all that_!'

'Well… well, _maybe_.' England muttered, then continuing ferociously, '…but at least I'm not thinking bad thoughts about the bloke I'm dating as soon as I see the _slightest _thing that _could _prove some of my worthless theories about him actually _hating_ me – unlike someone _else _I know!'

I winced and intensified (yes – _intensified_) my glare.

'Shut the hell up! I'm… I'm just _tired_, okay! Very tired! Travelling all over Europe without telling my brainless lover the reason why tends to wear me out! You really think that's so strange, England?'

'Of course not – _**I**_ think it's strange that you even have the _time_ to do unimportant things like that, you wanker!' England snarled, all of a sudden slamming a fist on the table.

'…for the love of Christ, Romano, Europe is in financial _peril _because of those awful debts nations like Greece, Iceland, Ireland – and even _your nation itself _– have! And besides that, the people of my nation are going on a strike, the workless students of _Spain _are on a strike, there are dangerous vegetables from either Spain _or _Germany _or _the Netherlands _or _France _or MY OWN BLOODY COUNTRY_ spreading themselves in the EU and _still_, all that _you _seem to care about is how to fucking _shag your lousy boyfriend _that, if my image of him is correct, loves you more than _anything_ and would _gladly _let himself get topped by you!'

I started to feel very uncomfortable and quickly licked my lips.

'Like… like _you _know wha—'

'Just _ask _him, you git! Ask him! He'd offer you his arse on a golden _plate_! There! Some _advice_, from me to you! Problems concerning topping Spain solved! So _maybe_, now that you know this, you're able to do something _useful _for your country for a change, you self-centered _prick_!'

England was panting hard by the time he had ended his preach and had also fisted his other hand, squeezing the both of his hands so tightly together, I could see his knuckles turning white.

I slowly looked from his hands to his red-from-anger-and-frustration face, pushing my own chair back a bit, even though I was fully aware there was still a table in-between us, separating us.

Then I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath after and forcing myself to keep on looking at him.

'Y-you're right. I probably really _should_ pay more attention to Italy than to anything else. And I know I haven't been doing that very much for the past… what, weeks, months?'

England gasped and clutched his chest. 'Neglecting a nation's welfare for _months_ – GAH! You should be _ashamed _of yourself, Romano!'

'But…' I sat up a bit more upright, '…my nation… and _yours, _for all that matters, is run by people mightier than us. Sure, they're mortal and all, and they will die one day, but… they have _more _influence on our nation than we personifications ever _had_.'

The Englishman seemed confused, but calmed down. He relaxed his hands a bit, but I still saw two firm, fleshy fists on the tabletop.

'What's your point, Romano?'

'I-I think it's kind of useless for us to involve ourselves too much with the problems and the rulers of our nations…' I explained, fidgeting, '…I mean, it's okay to stay in touch with everything that's important _and_ to make sure you're still healthy in spite of everything that happens around us, but if you think about it, really, _really _think about it… did it ever really _matter _for our nations if we actively participated in a war, or fight, or conference? Did it ever change the outcome? After all… _we _weren't the ones that were fighting – the _people _were.'

England's hands weren't fists anymore.

'So… you're saying we're basically just... moral support-_things_ for our nations, and nothing more than that?'

'Maybe even less than that.'

England cringed at that. '_Bollocks_. That's an _awful _way to think about our functionality.'

'It's just my own opinion, really,' I said, shrugging, '…but I'm sure there's at least a bit of truth hidden in it. And therefore I really think it's not _that _big of a deal if we pay more attention to our everyday _human_ life than to our… _other _life.'

The other nation stared at me for a while, looking a bit dumbfounded.

Then he got serious again and squeezed his eyes almost shut.

'I don't share your view on life.'

'You don't have to – I don't share _yours_.'

England didn't hear me. His aura became significantly darker – I felt it. The atmosphere around me was getting heavy and _suffocating_.

'We _are _functional, Romano. We _do _have a lot of influence on our people, no matter who they might be. And I'll prove it to you, you Italian wanker. I'll prove it to you… oh yes, I _will _prove it to you. Mind my words.'

'…h-how? When?' I mumbled, getting slightly freaked out by his determined, unsettling tone of voice and scary green glint in his eyes.

'…as soon as America's back with that forsaken _tea_.'

…

And just like that, the Brit leaned back, regained his normal posture again and glanced at the watch on his wrist with an annoyed sigh.

'Bugger, that dumb lad is taking bloody _hours_ to fetch us those drinks. The hell with it – I'm going to the loo. Been holding it up for hours, for God's sake…'

And he got up and left the table.

I…

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in and watched his retreating back disappearing behind a door.

I suddenly wanted to get away from here.

Oh god, did _I_ want to jump off that chair, run back all the way to Spain and order Antonio to protect me, no, hold me, no, hide with me underneath the bed and a pile of England-repelling curtains – because I just _knew _we had them lying around his place _somewhere_…

But.

I didn't run. I didn't flee. I just… stayed _right_ where I was.

Because…

His behavior… England's mood-swinging behavior… it reminded me of the behavior of _Antonio_, whenever _his_ darker side was playing up. And while I had never been downright scared of Antonio's other, creepy mood before (I knew him – and I _loved_ him), I noticed my heart was beginning to race a lot faster now that I had seen the _same_ faint flashes of that _same_ subtle insanity on _England's _face.

It was… I don't know.

It made me feel a bit nauseous and _extremely_ aware of my position as a nation who had never _really_ witnessed the horrible stuff England and Antonio had been through. Sure, I had seen Antonio coming home after he was released by England, I had seen his wounds, I had seen the way he had come home and forced himself to smile at me while he was gasping in pain at the exact same time, but… but had I _been _there?

No.

And that made me an unknowing outsider.

…

I didn't like that. I didn't want to be an outsider, not when it concerned Antonio. It was scary. It was scary and uncomfortable being an outsider.

And _that's_ the main reason why I hadn't made a dash for the door when I had seen that cold look in England's eyes: I was fed up being an outsider for Antonio on _that _part of his life.

I just didn't want to play the part of the blissfully ignorant moron anymore on Antonio's stupid little play.

So I was going to stay here.

I was going to stay here and listen to every fucking word, endure every fucking death-glare and moodswing of that neurotic Brit, and _then_, after all that, I… I…

'Hey Romano!'

Out of motherfucking _nowhere_, two cups of _Earl Grey _tea were enthusiastically _smacked down _on the old table, _immediately_ waking me up from my temporary blackout. One was put down in front of me, and one in front of the chair England sat just a few minutes earlier.

I slowly raised my head, just in time to see America sit down in the chair next to England's, a humongous red, _paper _cup in his hands, filled to the brim with a brown and _fizzling_ liquid that I recognized instantly as…

'_Coca_ _Cola_, America?' I glared at him – and his cup.

He smiled broadly. 'That's _amazing_, Romano! How did you know it's Coca Cola?'

'Common sense.'

'Really? You needed to use your _common_ _sense_ for that?' America's big eyes spread even more and he gave a disappointed clack with his tongue. 'Man, that's actually a bit _sad_ – you could have just used, well, _your_ _eyes_ and _see_ the swirly white letters. That would have been enough.'

…

I stared at him, torn between either splashing my boiling-hot tea in his face – that reminded me, why the fucking _hell_ had England even ordered that bitter shit for me in the first place, dammit, I mean, I didn't remember _asking_ for that – or just ripping that Coca Cola-cup apart. In America's _face_.

…

Yeah.

I ended up doing nothing but stare, though.

'Riiiight _here_.' America turned the cup my way, unaware of the sound of my grinding molars and annoyed groans. 'There. See? C-o-c-a C-o-l-a. Coca Cola. Easy as pie. Can you see it, Romano?'

'I fucking hate you.' I declared.

He frowned. 'No, it says _Coca_ _Cola_ – man, you really need some help with this kind of stuff, right? No worries! I will help you with understanding this paper cup of Coca Cola – and, if you insist, with every paper cup of whatever brand-name in the whole wide world!'

'Keep on talking like that and I _will_ staple my tea to your forehead.' I informed him.

As America started laughing and began explaining to me how impossible that would be ("You're so _funny_, Romano! As if you're even carrying a giant stapler with you, hahaha!'), I was beginning to wonder what the fuck the American's _real_ face was.

Because no way in shittin' _hell _that guy was stupid.

Misleading? Perhaps. Cunning? Yes. Annoying as crap? _Hell _yes.

But stupid? Nahhh… He probably was fully aware of the fact that England was going to tell us about his brutal pirate-days.

…

…

Could he…

Could he be just as nervous as me?

Was that why he was acting like an idiot, with his stupid cola-shit and all? To ease his mind? To think of other stuff than that?

If…

If that was the case…

…then I'd still kick his douchebaggery ass.

Fucking wisecracking bastard.

…

What? Hey, I was nervous, too! But at least _**I **_kept it _cool_! At least _**I**_ didn't need to put up some crazy act to hide my embarrassing feelings – hell, I had given up on that long time ago, since I was an emotional wreck anyway.

…

I still felt some spastic jolts shooting through my veins when England suddenly flopped down next to America though, as if something inside of me was trying to warn me for whatever that was going to happen.

…

Oh well – at least I didn't whimper.

Out _loud_, that is.

**xXx**

England took a long and good look at America – and his fucking Coca Cola.

Then he looked him straight in the eyes.

'Ah. Right. I see you got yourself a one-way ticket to teeth-damnation.'

America shook his head. 'No – I got myself a Coca Cola.'

'That's what I said.' England took a sip of his tea.

The American made a face. 'No, that's n—'

'Oh shut it, twit.'

England turned to me – and I unconsciously made all the muscles in my legs, arms and neck tense up.

'Are you enjoying your tea, Romano?'

'Not really. I don't like this kind of tea.' I said, voice sounding surprisingly calm, '…I prefer tea that tastes like fruit.'

He snickered. 'So you like the taste of _fruit_?'

'Yeah, well, it depends on the kind of fruit.'

'The Spanish kind probably suits your taste just perfectly.'

I blinked with my eyes, then narrowed them.

_Oooh_. Oh, I got it now. So he wanted snark? Then he could _get _snark!

'I happen to like the Spanish kind of fruit, yes, since they're very good in… adding a nice taste to hot water. In fact, they're the _best_ in adding a nice taste to hot water of all the fruits in the world – and definitely better than the American or English kind of fruit. Since they _suck_ at adding a nice taste to hot water.'

'Huh.' America mused, 'I don't the hell know why, but I think I should feel offended.'

England's smug grin started to fade away.

'Well, perhaps_ some_ daft people agree with that, but not _everyone_ likes the taste of Spanish fruit! After all, you can always add sugar to the English kind!'

'Add all you want to you lousy English tea – it still doesn't beat the original delicious taste of the Spanish fruit-tea – or _Italian _fruit-tea, for all that matters!'

America shook his head, grinning as he watched us.

'Man, I don't know _what _you guys are talking about, but if that conversation has got _anything_ to do with actual fruit-flavored tea, I swear to God I'll be drinking it for the rest of my life.'

England gave him an angry glare. 'Don't blame that spouting of pure nonsense on _me_, you brat, _he _started it!'

I gasped. 'The _hell_? You fucking _liar_! _You _started it!'

'Well I hadn't expect you to bloody _go on _with it!'

'Do I look like I fucking _care_?'

'Ohhh, I'll _tell _you what you look like, you little—'

'England.' America interrupted.

'_What_!' the Brit snapped at his lover, but lost the angry scowl on his face when he saw the somewhat irritated expression on America's.

'What?' he said again – but now a bit friendlier, smoothing his Spencer.

The blond America gave him a glare that, _shockingly_, looked a lot like a very stern look, but still not _quite_.

'I thought you were going to tell me and Romano something about your and Spain's past – _not_ to lecture us on the wonderful combination of tea and fruits.'

…

I felt a huge "that's what she said!" coming up, but wisely kept my mouth shut.

England's ears reddened and he coughed, shoving his chair closer to the table so he could rest his arms on it – and try to restore some of this "cool" act he was playing.

'Well, America, my dear, burger-eating friend—'

'_Lover_.' America corrected him.

A startled blush appeared on the Brit's cheeks, but he pretended he hadn't heard him and quickly continued.

'A-as I was saying, I _am _planning to tell you and the Italian wanker about my and Spain's past. And, more important, I'm also going to tell you a very good example of why we nation personifications _are _functional, _very_ functional, as a matter of fact, since Romano thinks we are all useless.'

America let a weird sound escape from his lips and snapped his head to the side, huge blue eyes giving me an unbelieving stare across the table.

'You think we are all _Italy_?_'_

I gave him a tired look and sighed. England sighed just as deeply, shaking his head.

'…I guess I better just start talking, right.'

'That would be nice…' I agreed, '…better make it something interesting, though, before that nutcase starts correcting all of his America-maps.'

'I think he should have done that long time ago already, though...' England murmured, but hastily cleared his throat when he saw America looking at him confusedly.

'Huh?' The American frowned.

'Never mind.' England forced a smile. '…now, let's begin, shall we?'

**xXx**

England intertwined his fingers together and looked down to the table, taking a deep breath.

'I was married once.'

'You were _married_?' I said, surprised – and wondering what the _fuck_ that had got anything to do with Antonio and his past.

'Married? Seriously?' America asked, his furrowing his brows even more, '…why don't I know anything about that?'

England pursed his lips and took his cup of tea. 'Well, you never asked. Besides, you were too young to remember that time, anyway.'

'Oh.' America got a bit silent.

'It was around 1558 I got married,' England carried on with a distant look in his eyes, '…and I guess it was the first – and also very _last_ – time the personification of a nation was married off to a human being.'

'A _human_ _being_?' I repeated, then shivering when I noticed how much higher my voice was pitched than usual. _Ugggh_.

'That's ridiculous!' America protested, '…humans _can't _marry personifications of nations! They're not allowed to do that! They're _mortal_! They _die_! They—'

England rolled his eyes. 'Yes yes, stop pointing out the obvious, you twit. I know. People die. She knew that as well. However, that didn't stop her from marrying me.'

'Who is this "she" you're talking about?' I asked.

The Englishman looked at me boorishly.

'Elizabeth Tudor. But you probably know her better as Queen Elizabeth I.'

I felt my jaw drop.

'You… you were married to an English queen?'

'I was.' England nodded. 'I still have the ring to prove it. I'm not wearing it anymore since she's been dead for centuries now, but if you insist, I can bring it with me one day, to a meeting or something. It's the exact same copy of hers.'

America was still refusing to believe it and snorted.

'No _way _I'm buying this crap, Kirkland. No freaking way.'

'Kirkland, Iggy, England… blimey, when are you finally going to decide on how to call me?' England remarked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes, '…responding to so many different names tires me.'

America shrugged. 'I know, but I'm afraid I have to, Iggy – you won't let me call you by your human anyway.'

'That's…um.'

'Unless we're having sex.'

The Brit's face almost _exploded_. 'Wha…! T-that's quite _enough_, America!'

'Anyway, it's hard to believe what you said about that marriage of yours, England…' I suddenly muttered with a skeptical frown, '…I mean, how on earth could you get married to a human? Queen or no queen, she was still a human!'

The corners of England's mouth started to curl up a bit and he leant more towards me, his blush all gone – damn, how did he do that?

'Ah… tell me, how much do you know about English history, Romano?'

I made a face. 'Pretty much nothing. Why?'

'Well, if you had known better, you would know that Queen Elizabeth I was one of the most influential rulers of my nation. And you would also have known that the people of England used to call her the _Virgin_ _Queen_."

'Because she never had sex?' I asked – kind of stupid thing to ask, I know…

He seemed to think so as well and shot an annoyed glare at me.

'Good _God, _Romano. And I here I was, thinking you were the _smart _half of the Italy Twins.'

I shot an equally annoyed glare right back at him.

'We're not fucking _twins. _Even in human years, I'm at least 3 years older than that stupid Feliciano, you eyebrowed bastard.'

'Well, anyway,' the Brit said with an uninterested smirk, '…for your information, Romano, Good Queen Bess _wasn't_ a coy virgin. Oh, not at all – that saucy dame had more suitors than I ever had and _will_ _have_ in my whole life and I'll be _damned_ if she never had sex with them.'

I didn't understand. 'Then why did they call her—'

'…the _Virgin Queen_? Because she never married to another person and therefore never gave birth to a possible heir: she was the last of the Tudor dynasty.'

America and I both nodded a bit, trying to get what the blond Englishman was telling us.

'You see… Queen Elizabeth I didn't want to marry, because she was already married to _England_. _That _was her true love, or so she claimed. She _literally_ said she wasn't able to love a man as much as she loved England – as much as she loved _me_. And so…'

The Brit was quiet for a second, but then went on.

'…and so, one day, she came to me and ordered me to marry her. She already had the rings and all, she came very well-prepared. I was flabbergasted, of course, just as much as you two tossers are right now, but what else was I supposed to do but obey and marry her? It was my noble duty as her humble servant to do whatever she wanted me to do, and so, I married her – how about _that_, Romano? What was that what you said about "nations" and their "uselessness" again, hm?'

I kept quiet.

'The wedding ceremony was quick – one blink of the eye and you would have missed it. It also wasn't _official_: she knew very well humans and personifications of nations couldn't officially wed each other. But I still spent the rest of her life as her unofficial husband – and her counselors spent the rest of her life ridiculing her because of that.'

England laughed softly.

'…of course, that sly redhead didn't love me like a wife would love her husband – part of her whole "I'm married to England"-plan was to ensure the British Kingdom would stay _hers: _if she had ever married a human man, that position could have endangered her position as Queen.'

'She didn't love you like… _real_ lovers would, then?' I carefully asked.

He shook his head again. 'She didn't, no. She _did _love in her life, but it wasn't me she loved. Not me _personally_.'

'Did _you_ love her?' America mumbled.

England thought about the question for a while. Finally, he gave him a sad smile.

'I did.'

America, who apparently wasn't very good at hiding his feelings when put on the spot like this, immediately avoided any eye contact.

'Oh.'

England groaned, hesitated, but then clumsily patted him on the back.

'...o-oh, come _on_, don't act like that, it's not that I _still_ love her, you silly man…'

The younger blond eyed him uneasily, but there was still a very small, yet very _real_ smile breaking through when he looked up to his former caretaker.

'…y'know, I _do _love you, Arthur.'

England let out a near-hysterical little laugh, pointing at me fanatically.

'Yes yes, very nice, very nice indeed, but _please_, d-don't call me that in public, y-you bloody git – that Italian wanker…'

'Oh please, pull that stick out of your ass already.' America said with a huff, '…call him all the names you want, but at least that "Italian wanker" of yours, whose just as testy as you, _does _allow his lover to call him by his human (pet!)name. In fact, he calls him by his human name in public himself as well!'

'Oh?' The Englishman blinked and turned to me. '…that true, Romano?'

I…

I just puffed my cheeks, like the huge infant I was, and folded my arms.

'…m-maybe.'

England exchanged some glances with the hopeful American ("See? Told you so!") next to him.

'Right… very well. I suppose I should try it out as well, then…'

America started grinning like mad, his face getting a deeper shade of red for the very first time, as if somebody had told him something very nice…

…which was exactly what was the case, I guess.

…

…

But…

This was all very nice and stuff, but I still hadn't heard _anything_ about Antonio, dammit! Why did that crazy Brit tell me about his sham-wedding with Queen Elizabeth I? Why the _hell_ didn't he tell me anything about my stupid Spanish lover yet, and about all the awful things he had done to him?

Luckily, England must have seen my troubled expression – or the way I was dinging my nails in the sides of the poor wooden table – because he gave me a knowing look.

'You're probably wondering when Spain will show up in this story, aren't you, Romano?'

'You sure are taking your fucking time to introduce him, yes!' I snarled (but not _too_ harshly, since I was still kind of scared of him), '…don't get me wrong, it was a very interesting story about that fake maiden queen/wife of yours, but when does Antonio show up?'

'_Tsk_! I was just about to tell you about that, Romano. Ever heard of patience?' England nonchalantly said… but I noticed he was getting a bit stressed.

'I'm waiting.' I just said, determined.

He bit his lower lip and for a second, I thought I saw something like panic and shame flash over his face. But only a mere moment later, he started talking.

'Well. The reason I told you about the _Virgin Queen_, Romano, is the fact that the Spanish Armada was planning to attack us when she was on the throne – she had a _lot _to do with the battle between Spain and England.'

'Why was that?' America asked, beating me to it (dammit).

'Why the Spanish Armada was sent to England, you mean?' England said, for some reason refusing to look at me anymore, '…um, well, you see, the Catholic king of Spain, Philip II, was angry with the Queen of England, because she…

1: was a Protestant, unlike himself and his former wife (also _her _half-sister) Mary I, who was Queen before Elizabeth I was given the crown;

2: had beheaded the Queen of Scotland, who was _Catholic_;

and 3: because… well, because we were kind of taking all the gold from the Spanish ships whenever they came back from their colonies in South America.'

'You mean you _stole_ from them.' I "translated" the last part with a scowl.

England frowned as well.

'Oh no. Don't you _dare _to call _my _nation the bad one here, Romano. Those Spanish blokes were also stealing – stealing from the people in South America. You _know _it's true.'

'It still didn't give _your_ people the right to go and act just as mean!' I lamely countered.

'_Heh_.' England smirked. '…I'm afraid you _had _to be mean back then, Romano. We all wanted to rule the world – we didn't have a choice but to act mean_._'

'Who's "we"?' America wanted to know.

The eyebrowed Englishman spread his arms. 'Oh, _everybody _on this continent, really – Europe was a horrible place to be back then. Mostly because of me, Spain, the Netherlands and France. We were the mighty princes of the world… but that was not enough, we all wanted to be the _king. _Now, you _didn't _want to "king" around with the other nations: there'd be less for _yourself_. It's not nice to have less than other nations, so a fierce war at sea was fought…'

America stared into his – empty – paper cup, looking kind of pissed off.

'Suddenly, I'm glad I was too young back then to know about this. Because I wouldn't have approved it, Arthur. I _wouldn't_. I would have stopped you, child-me or _no_ child-me.'

England conveniently ignored him.

'So anyway, me, France, the Netherlands and Spain were fighting each other on a rather daily basis, back in the 1500-1600s. And in the end, Spain and I turned out to be the toughest and mightiest bastards of them all. Still, there had to be a king, a winner – and we both wanted to win. So when Philip II decided to sent his bloody Armada to England, Elizabeth I was more than ready to take all of his galleons down.'

I heard myself swallow.

'…Antonio… Antonio was on one of the galleons as well. I know at least _that_ much. I think he was on the galleon with the big boss… forgot his name…'

'So was I – on board with the boss, I mean. I was on board with Sir Francis Drake – a brilliant, but dangerous man who knew everything about fighting on the seas of Europe.'

I didn't know what to say, so England continued.

'Spain and his Armada never stood a chance, really: Drake had already sunk 24 of the 130 Spanish ships before they had even left their harbor! Plus, the Armada was _slow_. _Very_ slow. _Too_ slow – we could surround them easily. They had nowhere to go when they finally arrived at the harbor of Calais, the British place they were planning to set foot on. And the foul, English weather wasn't helping them, either.'

'So… so what happened?' I heard myself ask, hoarsely.

England hesitated. He gave me a few looks I couldn't figure out and kept on twiddling his fingers and thumbs. America didn't make a lot of sound either: he was still staring down his cup, maybe thinking that, eventually, there would be Coca Cola in it again, if he'd just stare hard enough.

'_England_.' I insisted – and for once didn't pay attention to the slight trembling in my voice, '…please. You've gone this far – now just finish it.'

He nodded with a sigh.

'Very well. Right. Um… during the fight between Spain's people and mine, the English managed to capture a lot of Spanish enemies. You could compare a captured Spanish fighter to a trophy, really: catch a Spaniard (the bigger, the _better_), put him in jail and you're a champ. So that's what a lot of people did, aside from murdering and getting murdered: catching Spaniards. Everybody wanted to grab some proof of the English beating the great Spanish Armada, after all…'

'You were no exception.' America realized.

'I wasn't.' England admitted. 'Like some of my mates, I was also trying to capture a Spaniard. But not _just _a Spaniard – _the _Spaniard. The Spaniard that represented Spain itself.'

'Antonio.' I said, breathlessly.

'Yes. _Him_, yes. And I _succeeded_. I managed to grab him, _right_ before he wanted to slam that huge axe of his down on Sir Francis Drake. I saved the fellow in the nick of time by knocking that crazy Spaniard out with an empty bottle I had found on board of his galleon. I had never seen Drake _that _pale-faced before. I think he seriously thought he was going to get killed… and he _would_ _have been _killed, if I hadn't stop Spain.'

'He… you mean…' I gulped again. '…Antonio really… _killed_ people?'

'Does that surprise you?' England asked, raising an eyebrow, '…of _course_ he killed people. So did I. So did the people during that fight. It was either kill or _be _killed – what would you have done in his place, hm?'

'I… I don't know…'

'Well, then you probably won't survive a battle like that one, back in 1588.' England said. '…anyway, so I captured Spain, took him to the Tower of London and put him in the dirtiest, most dreadful prison cell there was, locked far, far away from his comrades.'

America looked up. 'Why did you do that?'

The other blond guy shrugged. 'I don't really know, actually. Probably just in a attempt to depress him, because if you think that Spaniard was easy to break down, you're _wrong_. Even when he was marching to the Tower with all those other Spanish blokes, _he _was the one who was still cracking jokes – really _sick _jokes, jokes that involved lopped-off heads and blood on walls and the kind, but at least he was in good spirits. And that frustrated me.'

'How come?' I asked, '…I mean, you had beaten him! Why did it—'

Suddenly, England's face came very close to my own and I gasped a bit in surprise, leaning back. His disturbing facial expression and darkened green eyes made me feel like running away really fast, but I didn't.

'You're such a stupid _wanker_. Do you honestly believe it was only _Spain _who suffered from that battle? That only _his _people died and drowned in the open sea and on the land?'

I opened my mouth. 'I—'

'You're _wrong_!' the Brit snarled, voice getting louder, '…you're bloody _wrong_, Romano! While he and the other Spanish prisoners were locked away safely in the Tower, my people were _dying _outside! There was not enough money to pay all the brave sailors who helped during the fight against Spain's Armada! The British people didn't have food, didn't have medicine against the diseases that were killing entire villages! They all suffered, they suffered so _much_…'

He cringed and gripped his stomach, as if somebody had just punched him in the gut.

'…it was awful. My human friends – that _hadn't _been slaughtered by Spain's people – all either starved, or they drowned, or they died from disease. For me, an immortal being, it was horrible to see… but _Spain_…'

England started to laugh a bit – a bitter, cold laugh.

'…Spain had the time of his _life, _that bastard… whenever I was in the Tower to check on him and the other captured Spaniards, he always _laughed me in the face_. He shouted I _deserved_ it to suffer like that, yelled he hoped even _more _English people would die, hollered he was going to _kill_ _me_ as soon as they'd set him free…'

America and I held our breaths as England gnawed on his lower lip. It was starting to bleed, but that didn't bother him.

'And one day, it was _too much_. People dying around me, Elizabeth not loving me the way I loved her… I had enough of it. And I had enough of that… that demonic Spanish cackling and mocking. I wanted to break him. I wanted to wipe that smug grin of that bastard's face. I wanted to teach him a lesson, wanted to show him once and for all why _my _nation had won this war, and not _his_. So I...'

He took a deep, shivering breath.

'…that same day, the day something _snapped _in me, I went to his prison cell early in the morning and gave him one last chance to apologize to me and to admit my nation was better. Naturally, he just laughed at me again and spat me in the face, telling me to get the hell out of his cell. I stayed calm, however. I stayed calm, told him I was going to tear that smile off his fucking face and make him regret the day he had set one foot on English territory, and pulled his pants off.'

I felt I was beginning to seriously hurt my nails and fingers, the way I was pressing them against the tabletop. But I couldn't care less about that.

England smiled – the most disgusting smile I had ever seen – as he continued.

'You should have seen that look on his face. I've never seen a provoking expression twist into a _horrified_ one _that fucking quickly_. Of course, he tried to get away from me, scrambling over the floor, desperately yanking his chains when he realized what I was planning to do to him, but it was no use – we were _alone _in that dark cell, no one could hear his useless cries for help – and in the next following hours, I _fucked him senseless_.'

He all of a sudden looked me straight in the eye.

'Can't say I _disliked _taking him like that. Maybe I even kind of liked it. To see that asshole flailing and screaming out in pain like that as I pounded into him and tugged on that long, curly hair of his… it made me feel like I had finally shown him who was boss.'

'My god…' America murmured.

I made a choking sound and could only shake my head, trying to get that… that sick image out of my head, but it was no use – especially not because England kept talking about it, even about the most unsettling details.

'This continued for the rest of the day. I'd rape him, then I'd let him recover from it a little, and then I'd rape him again, over and over and over. Firstly he just screamed and cursed me in his native tongue. Then he began to cry, tears streaming down his face as he begged me to stop – in English, Spanish, every language he knew. Eventually, he had no more water left in his body to create tears with, and he got silent, not even grunting anymore as I assaulted him. His bleeding body didn't resist anymore and he just let everything happen.'

England swallowed something.

'…at the end of the day, I finally released him and the other Spaniards, wondering out loud what the blazing hell I had done. Spain couldn't walk anymore – his comrades had to carry him. They probably all knew what had happened to him, yet nobody talked about it. As I watched them leave, step by step, I caught a glimpse of Spain's face… and was struck with guilt and horror. I had looked into the face of somebody who had lost all will to live, somebody who didn't care anymore if he'd make it back home or not. It was… it was the worst.'

America and I didn't say anything, we only stared at him. I couldn't see a lot, though – my vision was blurred by unshed tears, but like fucking hell I'd start bawling.

Like… like fucking _hell_.

**xXx**

A heavy silence filled the pub as the last customers aside from me, America and England left _Dirty Dick's_.

Some minutes passed.

Neither of us knew anything to say.

America was completely overwhelmed by all of this and looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't know _what _to say, so in the end, he didn't say _anything_.

England's expression was a weird combination of relief and pure _panic_, switching quiet glances between me and America, as if something was eating him from the inside.

And as for me, I had an emotionless look on my face and breathed in and out louder than I wanted to.

'N-now…'

England spoke up again.

'I… I know this sounds bad. I know I sound like a monster. But in my defense, Romano, Amer—_Alfred_, he would have done the same to _me_ if he had been in that position.'

'How do you know that for sure!' America immediately responded.

England jumped a bit. 'Wha—H-how I know? I don't know, I just _know_, o-okay! He was no angel, either! He—'

'Romano.' America ignored the Englishman, stood up from his chair and walked over to me, leaning a bit towards me, '...hey, it's getting pretty late already… and weren't you supposed to return to Spain early today?'

I nodded.

'A-Alfred…' England stammered, reaching out a trembling hand to him, '…n-no, please don't leave me all of a sudden, you… y-you brat!'

'I'll take you home, okay?' America told me with a smile.

'Okay.' I said, looking up to the American with a blank stare.

'Great! You go right ahead. I'll drive you back to Spain – just got to say goodbye to that sad excuse of a Brit there first.'

'I want to say goodbye to him, too.'

'Romano. No. Put that chair down and go outside. Okay?'

'Fine.'

And as I turned and walked to the door, my legs feeling like… like liquid plastic, I could hear England, sobbing in the background as America whispered something to him, something I didn't hear.

Not that I cared about that.

I cared about nothing at the moment.

Still, I think I could burst into tears any minute now.

Any fucking minute.


	42. Arse

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __Last chapter was one big ol' angst-fest, and as most of you know, I had a bit of trouble with the unusual big amount of drama: I prefer fluffiness. So I promised I'd make this chapter fluffy as fluff could be… so now it's __**so **__**damn**__ fluffy and sugary and clichéd, it's making my teeth feel like exploding. I seriously overdid the fluff, I fear… and worst of all, I made a mean, nasty cliffhanger, once again. Even though you probably know the outcome of it already. Um. Yeah. Please don't kill me. _^^;;;

_A/n2: You know about Greece, having big, financial troubles, yes? Well, guess what European nation has the biggest debts __**after **__Greece?  
__**Italy**__.  
__Not Spain – __**Italy**__.  
_…  
_Oh, the irony of it all.  
__Looks like Lovi should stop worrying about Spain and __**start **__worrying about his and his brother's wellbeing… _

_A/n3: Yeah, I know: the chapter-title should have been "Badonkatonk II" – but guess what – there's only __**one**__ song that's named that way. Who would have guessed! _XDDD _So you'll have to do it with the brand-new member of the ass-song-family: arse. Oooh!~ Sparkly! _*shot*

_A/n4: Funfact about me: I'm addicted to music. Currently, I'm playing "Afdwaalt" (Drift Off) __by Eefje de Visser over and over again, a really cute, Dutch song. It's so sweet and bubbly._^^ _The clip is a bit wacky, though. I should have known. _XD

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLII:

_**Candy Arse  
**__**(Pluto**__**)**_

But I didn't start crying.

I didn't _want _to start crying.

Not now. Not like this. Not while being away from the _only_ person on this goddamn planet who was allowed to see me cry and to _do_ something about it.

I breathed in sharply as I stepped into Antonio's car – don't tell me where it was parked or how I got inside, because I honestly don't remember anything of it anymore – and sat down, my eyes wide open as I stared through the front window, to the café.

I _had _to keep my eyes wide open – if I'd close them, my welled-up tears would trickle down and… a-and I really didn't want that to happen. I felt horribly enough already. Crying would only give me a huge headache and a feeling of deep shame. It wouldn't feel like a relief at all, unlike some would say it would.

Because…

…because it would only feel like a relief to cry if _Antonio_ was here to hold me, hug me, tell me it was okay, tell me I could cry to my heart's content, tell me all the things I wanted to hear…

Only _he _was able to make me believe that crying my fucking eyes out was something that was _good_.

So…

So until I was there, back in Spain and back into his arms… until he had seen the look on my face and pulled firmly me against his warm, safe body that assured me everything was alright now as his worried heartbeat thumped against my own…

I wouldn't cry.

I wouldn't cry one single tear.

Even if that meant I had to keep my eyes open like this the following hours.

…

I-I could do that.

Of course I could—

'WELL! Hello again!'

'GAH!' I jumped up a bit when America all of a sudden flopped down beside me, on the driver's seat, a big, toothy grin on his face as he gave me a small nod and started the car – all in one smooth movement.

…

...well, just leave pulling off something like that to _America_, I guess.

'So! How are you doing, Romano?' the blond asked, glancing over his shoulder as he turned the car, '…recovered from the shock a little?'

'No.' I mumbled, clenching my hands around my knees.

'No? Well, did you know that—'

'Shut _up, _America.'

I abruptly interrupted him in a weird, shaking voice.

'Just… just shut up. _Please_. I don't want to talk. Hell, I don't even want to _think_. I just want to go home.'

America frowned, but, for now, he obeyed – reluctantly. He looked my way. I think I had somehow offended him a bit by cutting him off like that, but really, I didn't give a _fuck_. If he wanted to take me back to Spain _that _badly, it was fine by me – but he had to be fucking _quiet_.

He had to be _quiet_ and _leave me_ in my miserable misery.

…

Yeah.

Too bad that didn't work out.

Not because America wouldn't shut up – 'cause he _did_.

Not because he started playing with my radio – 'cause he _didn't_.

Also not because he discovered that embarrassing Mika-CD of mine – 'cause I… had put that thing away on a place only I knew (n-not that I liked listening to that crappy gay-music, _psssh_, of course not, I didn't even know how it always found its way into the CD player to _start_ with).

No.

The whole "shut-up-and-drive"-thing only didn't work out because of _me_ and my _damn_ _curiosity_.

It's just... sure, _America_ might be aware of _my _feelings about England's story now, but how did _he _feel about it? I mean… England's America's_ lover_. Of _course_ his story would affect his American boyfriend _somehow_, right? I wanted to know.

So I asked.

…

…besides, maybe talking about _his_ feelings instead of _mine_ would distract me from my swollen throat and eyes.

F-fucking tears…

**xXx**

'How I feel about England's story about his past, you ask?'

America gave me a thoughtful look.

I nodded feebly. 'Y-yeah. I wanted to know that. Since… well, I thought you'd be just as upset, but, um…'

My voice died for a moment and I observed his calm, careless posture and relaxed hands on the wheel, frowning.

'…but frankly, you don't _seem_ to be very upset.'

America stared at me, blinked his eyes sheepishly and laughed a bit, before he focused his attention on the road again and heaved a sigh.

'Ahh… that just shows how _bad _you know me, Romano! Haha! To think I'm _not_ upset by Iggy's little tale about his fucked-up past! That's really _stupid_ of you to think!'

I tilted my head. 'So… so you _are_ upse—'

'Of _course _I'm upset, Romano.'

America's tone had become more serious than before and I noticed his hands immediately gripped the wheel tighter – maybe a _lot_ tighter. There was also a huge fold forming in his forehead and a sad shadow falling over his face...

…which… _could_ have been because of that giant tree we passed, but I wasn't too sure. He just really _did _look more depressed now.

Oh.

Hey. Hold the phone.

I suddenly realized I had managed to depress America. I, Lovino/Romano/South Italy, had succeeded in _making America feel bad_. Oh god, that's almost as rare as making Sealand feel like he was actually _worth_ a crap.

…

And of course, not a _fucking_ camera in sight to tape it.

…

Oh, as if that even _matters_, Lovino, you mean little feeling-better-when-other-people-are-feeling-bad _asshole_.

'I think…' America suddenly said, squeezing his eyes a bit because of the bright sunlight, '…I think I'm feeling the same confusing and unsettling feelings as _you_ right now, Romano.'

'You are, huh…' I murmured.

He nodded. 'Yes. Well, kind of, at least. But the biggest difference between your feelings and mine is the fact that I also feel _anger – _directed _directly_ towards my lover. Yes. That's it. I'm _mad _at Arthur because of what he has done to Spain… and because he kept all of this a secret for me for such a long time.'

'You thought he was a nice guy, then?' I snorted – I couldn't help it.

America didn't hear the hidden sarcasm and just chuckled.

'_Hell_ no, Romano! Arthur, a _nice _guy? That's like calling _you _a nice guy and Pluto a planet: an _awful_ misunderstanding!'

W-what the…

_D__amn_ that douche!

I didn't take the bait though (HA!) and only grumbled a bit.

'Yeah, well, like _you're_ such a nice guy, dammit…'

'I _am_ a nice guy. A very _nice_ guy! Hell, I'm so damn nice, I might burst from niceness. And at least I'm nicer than you, since _**I**_ _don't_ want to staple things to the foreheads of innocent heroes.'

'Innocent hero— oh, give me a fucking _break_.' I rolled my eyes.

America grinned broadly for a short while, although his smile then faded away almost as quickly as it had appeared.

'…ah, but seriously, Romano: I'm pissed at Iggy at the moment. Really, really pissed.'

'You have all rights to be angry with him.' I agreed.

Surprisingly, America shook his head at this.

'No. I _haven't_.'

I looked at him questionably.

'I… I haven't got _any _right to be angry with him, Romano. I wasn't there when all of this happened. I was too young to understand what was going on – I didn't know how insane the situation in Europe was back then, I didn't know how dangerous and scary England could be, so… who am I to judge him? He was just doing what _every _crazy nation was doing: defending his honor.'

'Yes – by raping…' I heard myself hiss, a silent sob almost inaudible – _almost _inaudible – escaping from my lips as I shuddered.

'…by r-raping the only man in this world that I actually… that I… l-lov…'

'Easy now, Romano.' America hushed, '…let me get this straight, it's not like I approve of what England did to Spain – I absolutely _don't_. He shouldn't have "fixed" his frustrated feelings like that. He should have just… kicked Spain's ass really badly.'

'Yes! He _should _have just kicked his ass really badly!' I stammered, now having even _more_ trouble to keep the tears from streaming down my face.

'Or he should have…' America took a deep dramatic breath and spread his eyes to add to the effect, '…eaten_ tomatoes_. In _front_ of him. _Without_ giving him some.'

…

I… I stared at him and found myself biting on the insides of my cheeks to avoid a weird, choked snicker from coming out, despite myself. Oh _god_. Antonio would have torn down the whole Tower if England had had the guts to do _that_:

_England: 'Ooooh__ Spain, look what I have got here: a basket full of fine, fresh __**tomatoes**__!'_

_Antonio: *gasps*_

_England: 'I think I'm going… to EAT SOME.'_

_Antonio: '…um… could I… could I hav—'_

_England: 'FUCK YOU.' _*takes bite*

_Antonio: 'Gah! NOOO!'_

…

…and really, that'd have been torture _enough_.

…

But wait.

Wait.

Had that weird, douchy American just… _cheered me up _a bit?

_Really? _

…

Seriously, where the _hell _was that fucking camera when you needed it?

**xXx**

After this little conversation, America and I continued our way to Spain for a while in a silence that wasn't really pleasant, but not exactly _un_pleasant, either.

We just were… kind of quiet, I guess. The both of us were probably processing all of the happenings, emotions and feelings of today (I know _**I**_ was) – and yes, after experiencing a day like this, that _surely_ took us some time.

…

I…

I just wanted to be back in Spain as soon as possible.

Because no matter how much – can't believe I'm admitting this – _fun _it was to be road-tripping around Europe with America, I really needed to be with Antonio. I… I needed to give him the hug I should have given him _centuries_ ago, d-dammit…

**xXx**

We took a short break at a service station, since we needed to… well, fill the tank.

As I was standing outside the car, filling the dingy vehicle with gas/petrol/benzene/stuff that stinks and wrinkling my nose because of the unhealthy stench, America suddenly popped his head out of the window (almost causing the weak car to _fucking flip over_) and held a hand up for me.

'Gimme.'

I gave him an odd look.

'…what, want me to put this stinky shit on your _hand_? 'Cause that can be arranged, you know.'

'No, I want you to put your cell phone on my hand.' America explained.

'Why?'

'Well _duh_ – because I want to make a phone call.' America rolled his eyes.

I made a face. I really didn't like to let other… _living_ _beings_ touch my cell phone – except for Antonio, maybe – but before I knew it, I handed my phone over to the grinning American. Must be his fucking charisma, _hypnotizing_ me or something.

'Thank you!' he said, my shiny black cell phone in his hand, and sat back on his seat.

'What do you need it for?' I asked, putting the hose-thing back on the holder of the petrol pump, '…did you forget to bring your own?'

America, who was already calling, gave me an annoyed look and put a finger on his lips.

'Shhh! It's going over!'

'Yeah yeah, whatever…' I sighed and turned around, '… I'm going to the shop over there to pay, be right back.'

America looked downright _alarmed _now. 'Romano, _please_!'

Fucking bastard. I huffed and elegantly flipped him off (_fuck_ you – _**I**_ thought it was _elegantly_, alright) before walking to the service station's shop further ahead.

That stupid American. Huh, he should have been _glad_ he was allowed to borrow my manly cell phone from me, dammit!

Anyway, when I returned from the shop and stepped inside the car, America just hung up, beaming a proud smile at me that made me feel like punching him in the face. I didn't, though.

'The hell are you _smiling_ about, douchebag!' I said, snatching my phone out of his hands and _immediately_ checking who the hell he had called, 'cause you bet your ass I would erase England's memorized number if that blond creep had called _him_.

'Hey, that was a private conversation!' the American immediately pouted when he saw me scrolling thought my phone, '…aww, you'll be a _terrible_ mom if you're having Spain's kids later.'

I could have responded with a heavy blush and some incomprehensive stuttering, but I didn't, because I then noticed to what number America had called.

It was Antonio's number.

…

I stared at his name for a short while and then looked at America, mouth hanging open a bit.

America didn't react right away – he was busy driving away from the service station – but when he was on the main road again and noticed I was fucking _ogling_ him like this, he frowned.

'Now _that's _an interesting face, Romano.'

'You called_ Antonio_?' I stammered, ignoring his remark.

'I called Spain, yes.' He nodded.

I licked my lips and tried to stay calm.

'W-why? Why did you call him – with _my _cell phone?'

'Why, you say… well, first of all, because I didn't have his number myself…' the American said, '…and second, because I knew that if I called him with _your _cell phone, he'd certainly answer it. And I was right – he answered it pretty quickly, haha!'

'That's _not_ what I asked you! Don't act like you don't know what I mean! Why the _fuck_ did you call him!' I snarled, gritting my teeth. I didn't know why, but knowing that the American got to talk with Antonio sooner than I made me really angry for some reason.

America glanced at my tense figure and raised an eyebrow.

'Wow. Stressed, aren't you?'

'Shut up!'

'And you've been on the verge of tears for quite some time as well.'

I cringed. 'I-I said _shut up!_'

'Hey, have you thought of anything to say to Spain when he sees you like this?'

…

I…

I opened my mouth, but shut it almost instantly, scowling as I folded my arms and shook my head.

'…n-no.'

'No? So… what, you're just going to run to him and hug him 'till all the air is squeezed out of his lungs without telling him the reason?'

'I'm _not _going to hug him!' I snapped, cheeks flushed to an embarrassed shade of red since that was _exactly_ what I was planning to do as soon as I was back home.

'Well, I think you _are_. And that's good. You _should _do that, hugging your lover without giving him an explanation.' America firmly said. '…that's what I'll be doing as well, after I've returned from Spain. I'll hug the crap out of Iggy.'

…

…okay…

Since the douchebag was confusing me to no end (as usual), I didn't say anything. I _did _blush, though.

'What I wanted to say is…' he continued, '…I called Spain for you and told him what you've been through – so now he'll at least know why you'll look like a cranky kicked puppy when I drop you off!'

Still speechless, I looked up at him with a jolt of the head.

'…what the… y-you… you _told_ him?'

'That's what I said, didn't I?'

'S-shit, w-w-what were you _thinking_!'

'Not much.' He shrugged. 'I just called him. I wanted to prepare him for what was coming, that's all.'

'Okay… um… how… h-how…' I paused, quickly looking away again from him, '…h-how did he react? What did he say?'

America looked at me for a short while.

Then a smile appeared on his face

'He'll be outside, waiting for your return.'

God. My heart skipped a beat.

'He-he's already waiting outside for me? B-but I won't be back in Spain anytime soon… I mean, we still have to drive around for at least two hou—'

'Yes, that's what _**I **_told him!' America agreed while nodding fanatically, '…that's _just _what I told him! But he didn't care. Said he had planned to take a long stroll around in his tomato fields anyway.'

I felt a gentle, warm feeling slowly spreading itself inside of me, starting from my chest to the tips of my toes. I smiled a bit.

'…t-that dumb bastard…'

America watched me smile and clutch my chest for a while with a pleased grin, but he didn't say a word, though. Instead, he just kept his eyes on the road and whistles a little, as if he was seemingly accidentally but actually _deliberately_ letting me enjoy my own silent moment of utter joy and relief.

…

I was glad he did.

**xXx**

A couple of slow, _oh so fucking __**slow**_ hours later, we arrived in Spain.

Not too long after that, we arrived at Madrid.

And finally, _finally_, we reached the House of Spain – _Antonio's_ House.

…

Oh god. Oh _god_. Finally.

I can't describe how I was feeling when America parked Antonio's car right in front of the House of Spain. I felt like crying and laughing at the same time and I felt like getting mad at myself for feeling like crying and laughing at the same time because holy _shitloads of shit_, that wasn't manly at _all, _Lovino! That was _miles_ away from manliness – no, _entire Russia's _away from manliness!

That's right! There were several armies of Russia's standing in-between me and manliness! Freakin' _Russia's_!

…

_Heh. _

I chuckled inwardly at my own rambling.

Like I even _gave_ a fucking _shit _about my obvious lack of manliness right now – I just wanted to see that damn Spaniard already. See him and hold him.

And cry.

M-maybe.

'Um… hey, Romano?' America suddenly asked.

I looked impatiently at him – I was just about to get out of the car.

'What?'

'Could I borrow this car for a while?' He smiled nervously at me, '...'cause I just realized I have no money or touristic busses on me to get back to England, hahaha…'

I was only listening to him halfheartedly, already casting glances over my shoulder to see if I noticed Antonio anywhere… but there wasn't a sight of the cheerful moron yet.

W-where was he? I-I figured he would be waiting outsi—

'Romano?' America was pretty much _pleading _now, tugging on one of my sleeves, '…is it okay? Hmm? Hmmmmmmmmmm? I can borrow this crappy car, right? I'll send it back to Spain as soon as I'm back in England, okay? Romano?'

'Yeah, _fine_, borrow the stupid car, see if I care...' I mumbled, looking around me.

Where the hell was that Spanish fuck?

Behind me, America enthusiastically fist-pumped into the air and started the engine again.

'_Yes_! Thanks, Romano! I owe you one!'

I nodded absentmindedly.

'Yeah. Sure.'

'See you later!'

'Hmn.'

With a lot of loud noise, a small sandstorm surrounding the vehicle (thanks to the wheels of the car, slipping over the loose ground) and a few _very _unnecessary honks of Antonio's ear-splitting annoyingclaxon, America drove off.

I watched him go with a weird feeling of loneliness building up inside of me.

And with a growing feeling of anxiety.

I didn't even know why.

…

No, I lied.

Of course I knew why.

**xXx**

Wait…

I suddenly remembered America saying that Antonio was going to walk around his tomato fields… then he had to be _there_, right? Checking his tomatoes, getting rid of bugs that might hurt the red vegetables, tasting some of the tomatoes, all while…

…

…all while… w-waiting for me…

Damn, what was I even still doing here? I should take a look at his tomato fields. Like… like right _now_.

I took a shivering breath, a couple of hesitating steps towards the gate of the backyard and then suddenly started to fucking _sprint, _violently pushing open the stupid wooden fence and almost tripping over my own damn feet in my hurry to get in the garden, to look around for a certain Spaniard, to… t-to… hug…

…but I didn't see him, dammit!

I cursed with an unstable voice, hurrying to the tomato fields a bit further ahead.

Nothing.

I ran right across the fields, not even caring that I was stomping on some unfortunate tomatoes lying on the ground.

Nothing nothing nothing _goddammit!_

I began to tremble and scowled deeply, feeling that I _really _couldn't fight my tears for much longer.

F-fuck. S-so I really had to _bawl_ in public, huh. I really, _really _had to cry all by myself now. And then, after my face had _melted_, Antonio, that fucking _hider_, would suddenly pop up out of nowhere and go all like "_Ohh, sorry for letting you sob by yourself like that, Lovi, but I had fallen asleep on the ground, ahahaha!~ Have a tomato!~_"

Great. Just… just motherfucking _great_.

I screwed my eyes shut tightly, refusing to give up.

N-_now_ what, d-dammit… now wha—

'Lovino.'

…

…

That voice.

I instantly opened my eyes again and gasped quietly when I saw Antonio, standing only a bit further away from me, his chest heaving, as if he had run.

'A-Antonio…' I stammered.

He waved at me with a reassuring smile and wanted to say something, _probably_ my name, _probably_ followed by something that started with "my" and ended with "love" but I wouldn't let him, I _wouldn't_, and dashed forwards.

I couldn't even feel my _limbs_ anymore as I ran to him like this and I sure as hell couldn't _see _anything anymore, either, I just ran, ran, ran until I finally, _finallyfinallyfinally_, bumped into him and harshly _clamped _my arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides and shuddering uncontrollably when I felt the wonderful feeling of his body pressed against mine.

'Antonio… A-Antonio…'

Antonio made a soft "_oof_!" –sound and even had to step back a few steps to prevent himself from falling over from the impact of my sudden attack, but then he chuckled softly.

'Welcome back, my love…'

I choked down a snotty sob and hugged him even tighter when I felt a sweet kiss was pressed to my forehead. I still must have started crying at a certain point during all of this, though, since I suddenly was very much aware of my wet cheeks and pricking eyes.

'D-dammit, Antonio… d-d-dammit, you… you fucking… f-fucking…'

I had to swallow.

'Ah, Lovi…' Antonio muttered, kissing my forehead again, '…it's okay, sweetie. You can cry. Cry as loud as you want to. I understand. I don't mind. And I…'

He paused for a bit, waiting until I raised my face up with teary eyes.

'A-and you… what?' I mumbled.

He smiled, green eyes softening.

'…and I love you. Every sweet, crying, caring little piece of you. And the rest as well. I love it all. I love you so _much_, Lovino…'

I hiccupped, leaning my chin against his chest.

'…love you t-too, d-dammit…'

'Please…' Antonio's voice was barely a whisper now, '…_please_ don't hold back, my love. Let it out. I'm here, baby, I'm right here…'

And that…

Well, that was the last straw.

**xXx**

I _hated_ it. Crying, I mean.

It was a sign of weakness. By crying, you showed other people just how much impact a certain action had on you. You didn't want to let other people know what impact certain actions had on you – not like _that_. You just _didn't _want to show that side of you. _Especially_ not when you were male. Boys and men weren't allowed to cry – it isn't a written rule, but everybody knows it's _not-done _to let your tears run free when you're a guy.

Of course, this unspoken but nevertheless _very_ legitimate rule wasn't always followed up by me (and not by my brother either, since that pasta-face already started whining when you did as much as pointing a fucking _finger_ to him _a bit too roughly_ – what the _fuck_, Feliciano!): no matter how much I hated it to cry, no matter how much I hated it so show my weaker side and no matter how much I was ashamed by my own sobbing and other cry-noises…

I still was a _person_. Not a mere personification. I had just as much feelings as every other average human being.

And besides… besides…

…besides, Antonio always encouraged me to express my feelings, no matter how embarrassing and stupid they were.

Must be because he was a very emotional person himself as well.

So… so every time he - unknowingly - gave me _permission_ ('cause that's the way I saw it) to weep away, _damn_ did I weep away…

**xXx**

For the following few minutes, I was only able to cry into Antonio's chest.

_Loudly_.

Not those cute, restrained snivels you see on the television and in movies whenever a young girl was crying, no – I was pretty much _screaming_. Really, it was a good thing most of my whaling was muffled away in Antonio's shirt, dammit…

_God_. My eyes hurt, my nose was running and my hands were still firmly wrapped around the Spaniard, _my _Spaniard, my moronic yet oh so beloved Spaniard, as I shed the tears he must have shed centuries ago, when he was locked up and abused by that Brit, abused _so_ _much_ it almost broke his very _soul_…

I still couldn't believe he recovered from that. I couldn't.

Meanwhile, Antonio was being quiet. Quiet and accepting – a rare mood of his, a mood he actually only showed when I was… well, _crying_, being depressed about something.

Since I still had him trapped in my arms, there wasn't much he could do but smile down on me and kiss my face every once in a while, whispering soft terms of endearment whenever he _did_ say something.

'Ah, it's okay, it's okay, my love… my lovely Lovi… ah, how good your heart is, sweetie…'

…

I…

I don't know how many minutes I actually cried out loud like this, but at one point, I felt Antonio was carefully trying to wriggle his arms out of my grip, muttering softly to me if I could relax my arms a bit.

I could. And I did.

Antonio said a relieved "thank you" and freed his arms – immediately taking my face in his hands, caressing the sides and touching the wet trails of my cheeks. Then he lowered his head and captured my moist lips in a loving kiss, causing me to gulp and swallow a couple of sobs and groans.

He pulled away and chuckled gently when he saw the somewhat dazed, somewhat sad, somewhat troubled expression on my face, pressing our foreheads together and moving one hand down my back to pull me flush against him.

'A-ah…' I mumbled, quickly adjusting my position to his movements.

'Feeling a bit better, Lovino?' Antonio asked, tenderly running his hand up and down my sweaty back.

'…yeah, a bit…' I admitted and clutched his shirt in my hands.

He let out a soft sigh.

'…you've had a tough day, haven't you, my love?'

'It… it wasn't a nice day, no.'

'Do you… regret going to England?' he asked – and I could hear the poorly-hidden insecurity in the tone of his voice.

'No…' I murmured, hesitating first but then looking him in the eyes, '…because… because nowI know through what kind of shit you've been. Now I know why you sometimes tend to act like a creepy asshole. Now I… know _more_ about you. And… and that's _good_.'

Antonio looked a bit surprised, taking a deep, unsteady breath. 'You really… really thought it was _that _important to know all of that about me?'

I glared at him through teary eyes.

'O-of _course_, you stupid idiot… the good and the bad things – I want to know _all_ about you… that's what makes lovers _lovers_.'

'You know so much about love, Lovi…' He smiled sadly, shaking his head '…ah, I envy you. I'm such a pathetic man. I still have so much to learn about love. For starters, _**I **_should have told you about the past, _not_ that English bastard…'

'You _should_ have told me.' I nodded, huffing.

'I know. Please forgive me, Lovino… for not telling you.'

My grumpy pout instantly grew weaker and I smiled carefully, giving him another hug.

'I-idiot… it's alright… I'm just glad you're… you know… not suffering anymore.'

He laughed a bit, happily letting himself get hugged.

'Oh no, not anymore – I've done that more than enough a few centuries ago.'

A short silence.

'…I can't believe he did that to you…' I eventually heard myself stammer.

'Oh, I _can_.' Antonio calmly said, chuckling when I looked up at him in shock, '…it's _true_, Lovi: it was fairly normal back then to use horrible punishments like rape to teach others a lesson. In fact, I think I would've done something similar just as easily if I had captured England – and had been taunted by him just as much.'

I shivered. 'That's fucking _horrible_, you psycho. You would've been just as bad.'

'I was.'

'…oh.'

'Ah, I've grown nicer, though…' Antonio said and held me closer, '…I've grown a lot nicer after things weren't looking up for my so-called "world-wide empire" anymore. I lost a lot that had a lot of value for me – gold, power, status – but at least I _didn't _lose my _entire _grip on reality. And I didn't lose the respect and support of my best friends. And, most important of all… I didn't lose _you_.'

I blinked my eyes.

'…w-what the hell was so great about me, anyway…'

'Thanks to _you_, my love, I was able to hold on. After all the happenings in England, I… well, I didn't care about life anymore. I was humiliated, hurt and broken. But I knew that there was a small, grumpy nation in Spain, waiting for me to return.'

'There… there were more nations waiting for you to return…' I muttered, feeling my face heat up again, '…like Cuba, and Belgium, and—'

'Yes!' Antonio nodded, '…but I only cared for _you_, Lovino. Which wasn't good – I should have loved the rest as much as I loved you. But I didn't. For some reason, you were _special_. You… I think you really _cared_ about me, even _then_…'

'W-well…'

I sniveled and carefully made my hands, resting on his back, travel upwards, reaching his shoulders and closing my hands around them without any hesitation.

'…well… it-it's _true_ that I was very happy when you came back home. I-I had been scared you wouldn't return. But you did. You _did_. Thank you… thank you for that…'

Antonio's eyes looked a bit glassy and he breathed in and out slowly.

'Thank you…' I continued in a small voice, '…thank you for thinking I was worthy enough to return to…'

Without warning me first, he suddenly tilted my face up and kissed me again, with a lot more passion this time. I felt light in my head and heart when he invaded my mouth, gasping softly as I moved my lips and tongue and breath in time with his, trying to ease away those last bits of pain and sadness of his past.

Antonio held my face, caressing it as he kissed me hotly, kissed me sweetly, kissed me like it was the last time he would ever kiss me, making my blood stir and cheeks light up brightly.

His face was red as well, though. I noticed it when I timidly peeked through my almost-closed eyelids to watch him during yet another deep kiss: his face was covered with a heavy blush that wasn't as deep as mine, but _certainly_ as _meaningful_.

Y-you see… I think Antonio only blushed when he felt genuinely… _loved_. Like… like when I told him he meant a lot to me. When I touched him. When I silently let him know, one way or the other, that he was the… t-the love of my life, I guess…

…and he was blushing a _lot_, lately.

…

I probably was doing a pretty fucking good job at making him feel loved.

…

T-thank _god_, thank god I was able to make him feel the way he made _me _feel…

I was about to stand on the very tips of my toes to receive and answer his kisses even _more_ eagerly, not caring I barely had any breath left, when the Spaniard broke our current kiss off with a wet _pop_, trying to catch his breath and brushing some annoying strands of hair out of my face.

'Aren't… aren't you all I ever wanted, my lovely Lovi… cheering me up and comforting me like this… ah, I love you…'

He nuzzled my neck and pecked quick, breathless kisses all over my face.

'Yeah, I… I love you too. Just… just promise me one thing…' I stammered with closed eyes, my fingers ghosting over his neck, '…don't… don't make me worry about you anymore, okay?'

Antonio pulled back and looked at me with a fond, curious smile.

'…hmn?'

I gave him a serious look.

'Don't… don't keep things for yourself. Because… because no matter how hard you try to hide your emotions for me, I… I'll notice them _anyway_. I know you too well to fall for those fake smiles, dammit… and a-and it depresses me when you don't share your frustrations with me. So… just tell me whenever there's something bothering you.'

He observed me in silence, before finally giving me that broad, kind, _honest_ smile I loved so much about him - and stealing a last, firm kiss from me.

'I will. I will, Lovino. I… I'll try hard to never _ever_ let you feel depressed anymore, my love, to tell you all the things you want me to tell you, to share my feelings with you and to… to… t-to…'

Antonio in- and exhaled kind of shakily, dropping his arms in order to wrap them around my waist affectionately, his green eyes determined and shining with an excited, hopeful kind of glint.

'…and to… to make you _happy_, Lovino. I… I'd love it, I'd absolutely _love _it, if you would give me the honor to spend the rest of my life… t-trying to make you happy…'

Firstly, I just stared at him with that stupid, oblivious look that my face seemed to like a bit too much to my liking – I just _knew _it did.

But then, _then_, I slowly realized what he was trying to say.

And I couldn't say anything. I could only… gaze at him with expectant eyes spread wide open.

'I…I'd like to… to ask you something, Lovino…' Antonio softly said, now grabbing my hands, '…b-but not here. I… I've prepared something for this evening, you see? I… it's not much, but… but I still hope you'll like it.'

'If… if you're going to ask me what I _hope _you're going to ask me this evening…' I breathed, '…I-I'm already loving every single bit of it…'

His face flushed even more.

'…really, Lovino…?'

'R-really.' I nodded.

'A-ah… well, in that case…'

He chuckled shyly and looked away from me for a moment, too embarrassed and relieved at the same time to face me.

However, when he _did _look at me again, he interlaced our fingers tightly and took a few steps backwards, gently pulling me with him.

'…please join me on the balcony, Lovino.'


	43. Rump II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I have over 1,500 reviews. Over __**1,500 reviews**__. You, great people of fanfictiondotnet, anonymous or not-so anonymous, are simply fantastic. You must be getting tired of me saying the same shit over and over again, but it's the truth and you should always accept and embrace the truth._^^ _You just never fail to cheer me up, make me feel better about myself, make me laugh and compliment me until I get a face as red as the ugly bathrobe I'm always wearing. Thank you for that, once again.  
_…  
_Ohh, talking about thank yous: the Thank-You-chapter of this fic is going to be HUGE. My GOD, it's going to be bigger than LIFE. _0_0;;;

_A/n2: Many readers told me last chapter how sad they feel about the fact that this fic is going to end in a few weeks. T-that's really, really nice of you all… But like I said in my replies to you: it'll really take seven to ten more weeks before this fic's ending. Lovi still has got to visit the last country on his list – you know the one~ – and he still has to top Toni. I think I have a really cute idea in mind for the topping-chapter…  
__Ah, anyway, don't start panicking yet! _^^ _There's enough left to write about, trust me. _

_A/n3: Aside from reviews, you guys also give me tons of PM's. God, are you wonderful or WHAT?_^^ _Unfortunately, I don't always have time to reply to PM's, so please forgive me if I don't answer your PM…_

_A/n4: To some of you, I said there would be smut. A-ahahaha… yeah, I'm afraid I rambled too much again, so expect the smut in the next chapter._^^;;; _For now, just don't die of the fluff._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLIII:

_**Shake Your Rump  
**__**(Beastie Boys**__**)**_

It…

It was… kind of _amazing_ just how _happily_, how _delighted_ my heart was bouncing against my ribs, the moment Antonio took my hands in his and pulled me back into the House with him, his eyes _never_ losing contact with mine.

Oh, I could tell what he was going to ask me.

I could _so fucking tell _what he was going to ask me, it even amazed _me_.

How comes I could tell what he was going to ask me? Well, it's just… well… um…

…

…just… just _look_ at him.

Those bright, green orbs staring at me with a look full of love, affection and hope… those big, yet caring hands, holding mine so very gently… the way he walked backwards like that, _without_ stumbling over things while he normally couldn't walk as much as five damn steps without almost tripping over fucking grass haulms…

Oh.

A shy, excited smile appeared on my face and I didn't even _care_.

Oh yes. Antonio knew _exactly_ what he was doing. And whatever that was, it had got something to do with me, him and the balcony.

…

Ohh, just _what_ could it _be_. I wonder, I wonder.

I forced myself to clack my tongue as I obediently followed the Spaniard inside, to the stairs. _Tsssk_. He was such a stupid ass. How _lame_, popping me the question on the balcony.

…

Above his gorgeous tomato fields.

Under the stars.

And the clear, flawless, dark blue sky.

Probably while holding me.

And hugging me.

Before finally going down on one knee for m—

Oh GOD.

I actually started to giggle and wiggle.

…

Freaking _giggle _and_ wiggle_.

While blushing so damn hard I couldn't feel my fucking _teeth_ anymore.

WHAT the HELL.

WHAT. The. Fucking. HELL.

Sure, I know I was feeling really good right now, I know Antonio couldn't have made me happier with any other question than the question he was about to ask me and I _certainly_ know it was alright to show I was feeling like giggling and wiggling, but that doesn't mean I should really _do _those things!

Seriously – could I get any _gayer_?

'Lovi?'

Oh _fuck_. I swallowed a giggle and cursed at myself inwardly when I noticed Antonio was observing my unusual creepy behavior. _Shit_. Calm the fuck _down_, Lovino, you damn _fag_. Hell, Antonio was probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with me , dammi—_gah! _

Antonio suddenly pulled me closer – good thing we already reached the top of the stairs – and looked at me a bit better, his nose and lips only an inch away from my own.

'Just now, were you… were you _smiling_, Lovi?'

'Bull crap!' I automatically protested – I couldn't help it, it was a force of habit. And, you know, a fucking _reflex_.

He wasn't discouraged, though, and chuckled, giving me a short, yet sweet kiss.

'…_were_ you, Lovino?~' he breathed afterwards.

'O-okay, fine, I _was_ smiling, d-dammit…' I now admitted with a sour, but halfhearted scowl, '…I even _giggled_, for fuck's sake.'

'You were giggling. So that's what I heard. You were actually _giggling_. That… that…' Antonio bit his lower lip hard and squeezed my hands, '…that was the _cutest_ thing I've ever heard from you. Today, that is. Since you say loads of cute stuff every day, ahahaha…'

'Y-you're _weird_.' I muttered, a bit confused.

'You're the love of my life.' He smiled.

I felt I was getting embarrassed and even _happier_ at the same time after hearing that, but was too stubborn – yet again – to show it.

'…yeah, well… y-you're the fucking _embodiment_ of weirdness.'

'You're the best that ever wandered into my life, into my heart and into my head. And I hope you'll never leave _any_ of those, my love. It'll be a slow and painful death for me if you ever decide to do so…'

…

Oh. Holy _crap_, he was _good._

Antonio beamed a grin at me that could either say "Heard that? OMG, I love you so much I can't stand it!~" or "Heard that? HA, try to top _that_, Lovi!~".

…

…well, I _couldn't_ top that. I was out of sarcastic/useless comments, because my overwhelmed-with-wonderful-compliments mind was currently filled with sweet-comments _only_.

'I-I get it already, sheesh…' I mumbled in a weak attempt to stay down-to-earth, giving him a faint smile as Antonio expectantly puckered his lips. Silently, I touched his cheeks and pulled him a bit lower.

'W-want me to kiss you, d-don't you...'

'Ah, I'd _love _you to kiss me…'

'Then… then I will. J-just a peck, though…'

'That's okay… I enjoy your pecks very much, my love…'

I chuckled timidly (I _really _should stop doing that) and leant forward a bit, just… just a little bit, 'cause really, he was standing really, _really _close to me, and I almost instantly felt two soft lips finding mine again. At the same time, my eyes began to close themselves lazily – I don't know why, it's just that for some reason, I always closed my eyes, always _always _closed my eyes whenever I shared kisses with that Spanish idiot, no matter _what _kind of kisses they were.

And even this simple kiss wasn't an exception…

…

…i-it was a very nice kiss, though… very, very nice…

Antonio hummed contently against my lips and pressed his hips to mine for a second, before breaking the careful contact with a teasing nip to my lower lip.

'…d-don't bite me, asshole…' I muttered with a weird, thick voice, and quickly ran my tongue over my sore lip when he looked away.

He… he looked away _really _shortly, though, because Antonio suddenly laughed, tilted my face and _also_ licked my lower lip, our tongues briefly touching each other.

…t-touching… touching each other.

…

I-it _seemed_ like just another one of his mean, perverted games, but I could tell by his surprised, reddish face that he hadn't expect to meet my tongue.

So… so there was a _lot_ of staring – staring in the most fucking _shy_ way you can imagine, because be both were flushing like fucking _virgins_ – and _lot_ of hesitating on Antonio's side between simply thrusting his tongue in my mouth in order to kiss the _hell _out of me, and "calmly" removing himself from my face…

…

But… his… his half-lidded eyes told me Antonio _obviously _liked the first suggestion a lot more than the chaste second one, and he… he was already pressing his opened lips a bit harder on my own not-unwilling mouth…

…when he suddenly snapped out of it and abruptly pulled back, laughing nervously as he patted me on the head.

'G-god, Lovi, if I hadn't planned… _something _already, I swear I'd have pinned you against that wall behind you faster than you can say "I do"!~'

Then he realized what he had said, panicked a bit, stammered a couple of words I didn't understand and eventually clumsily cleared his throat, grabbing a tight hold on my hands again as he shot a sheepish smile at me.

'P-please, Lovi – as least _try _to act surprised, my love…'

I nodded – not very convincingly, though.

'Okay, I-I'll try, I'll try…'

'Thank you.'

We then entered the bedroom – which, for a change, _wasn't_ the most important room this specific evening – and he carefully guided me through the darkness of the room, to the doors of the balcony.

'A-ah, wait, wait for a moment…' he mumbled when we reached the doors and, _reluctantly_, let go of me to unlock them.

I watched him struggle with the doors with an excited, anxiously fluttering heart, before my attention was drawn to all kinds of soft colors shining behind the see-through curtains of the balcony doorway. I cocked my head a bit and wanted to ask Antonio what those colors were, but kept my mouth shut when a tiny voice in my head hissed it was probably part of the "surprise".

…

I-I had to admit: surprises like these were pretty fucking _great_ when you knew beforehand just how great the surprise was going to be…

I sighed quietly when Antonio's somewhat shaky hands landed on my shoulders, softly kneading the muscles underneath it.

'You… you really _did _prepare some shit, didn't you…' I said.

'Of _course_, Lovi.'

'T-that's nice…'

'I-I'm glad you think so. And… Lovino… um… y-you can go to the balcony now, my love…'

I felt he pressed a kiss in the nape of my neck and shuddered.

Not only because of the kiss.

No.

_Also_ because of the sight in front of me.

Oh… oh my god.

I clenched my hands together as the lights behind the doors became more radiant when Antonio gently led me through the open doors of the balcony, curtains swaying slowly in a barely noticeable, soft breeze of wind.

It…

It actually was kind of like I had expected it to be: the sight in front of me wasn't overwhelmingly fantastic. Hell, it even was pretty clichéd, probably.

For _most_ people.

But not for me.

I…

I had _never_ experienced something like this before. To me, the sight in front of me was the nicest and probably most _adorable_ sight I had ever seen.

The balcony was filled with tiny candlelights. Candlelights in all the colors of the rainbow, candlelights in at least a hundred different sizes – broad ones, silly ones, ones with patrons, ones with a smell…

They were spread all over the railing and floor of the balcony, their soft, yet bright and happy lights lightening the darkening sky of above Antonio's House, giving the small place where we were standing a romantic and almost _festive_ air.

'O-oh wow…' I stammered, looking at all the candlelights around me as I walked to the railing.

But that was not all.

There were more, a lot more lights, and when I leant on the railing, I was speechless to see Antonio's fantastic garden, also decorated, I now noticed, with many, _many _small lights. God. He must have pressed on a couple of light switches when I wasn't looking earlier, because I hadn't seen those lights when I walked into Antonio's feeling half an hour ago…

…

But… s-so _that's_ why he was walking around the tomato fields… not only because he was taking care of them, but also because he was installing all these lamps and things.

That… that must've cost him a lot of time… holy shit, just how long had he been busy with all of this?

I was still enjoying the enlightened, yellowish sight of the garden when I heard a soft chuckling behind me, before Antonio's hands landed right next to mine on the railing.

'You… you like it, Lovi?'

He nuzzled the back of my head.

I inhaled deeply and nodded, leaning back a little bit.

'I-I like it, yes… I-I mean… j-just how long… wh-what…'

'Oh yes, it took me some time. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to gather all these candlelights, for example! We don't have a lot of candlelights – well, not as much as I _thought_ we had – so I borrowed some from the neighbors… and from Femke… and from Austria…'

'…and from fuckfaced France…' I continued, wrinkling my nose while staring at a red candlelight that was shaped as a…

…

…you know what, I'm not even going to bother _saying_ it. How about that.

Antonio suddenly sighed and slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

'Ah, but you like it… oh god, I'm so glad you like it! I was afraid you'd think it was too… too _much _for your liking…'

'Are you out of your fucking _mind_?' I huffed, trying to fold my arms but letting them… dangle, I guess, when I failed at folding them, '…t-this is beautiful… _very _beautiful…'

He laughed fondly. 'Well, I _did _know you liked lights. And colors. And pretty gardens.'

'I-I do…' I said.

Antonio stiffed a bit.

'Y-you _do_, r-right…'

'I do, yes…'

A short silence, before we both started chuckling bashfully, Antonio while softly squeezing me in-between his arms and I while… while fiddling around with a blue, just-extinguish candlelight, happy to let him fondle me.

Oh god. I was enjoying myself so much, I couldn't _stand_ it. I… I could probably stay like this for the rest of the evening, night, week, _year _if I had to…

'Lovino… ah, how nice it is to be here with you, Lovino…' Antonio breathed, placing small kisses in my neck that caused me to moan quietly and roll my head back…

…and then I saw the moon.

…

Holy _shit_. I blinked my eyes and stared at it. That was one _huge _moon, alright…

'It's a full moon tonight?' I observed, _sharp _as ever.

'It is!' Antonio said, sounding extremely proud and forgetting the blissful mood for a second, '…it's probably the biggest and most beautiful full moon tonight since decennia, you know? I even looked it up!'

I slowly glanced over my shoulder to him, rewarding him with an amused little smile.

'…so _that's _why it had to be this Friday, hm?'

Antonio lost the stupid grin and replaced it with a much more mature one, nodding.

'That's right. It _had _to be this Friday night. Watching the biggest and prettiest full moon and a garden full of other bright lights together with you on a night like this…'

He turned me around to face him.

'…ah, that would be just the most beautiful décor to… to ask you… u-um… to ask you…'

I didn't say a word, just looked at him silently.

'O-okay, okay…' Antonio let one restless hand go of me to run it through his dark, curly hair, '…um… god, this… this shouldn't be so difficult for me, since… since I think I know your answer already and since… since – d-did I mention you look really good tonight, by the way? – since I really, _really_ want to ask this to you, b-but… but you never know, a-ahahaha…'

'I-I wouldn't worry, if I were you.' I mumbled, twiddling my fingers.

His eyes lit up even more than the moon and the garden full of lights _combined_ and he smiled, grabbing one of my hands with both his, holding it firmly.

'Lovino, you… you have always had a… a _very_ special place in my heart. From the very beginning, I knew, as soon as our eyes met, that you were a nation that would mean more to me than any other nation or human had _ever _meant to me.'

'Oh god…' I said with a trembling voice, '…t-this is really happening, isn't it… it is really happening…'

Antonio forced back a broad grin and continued.

'…f-first, I just loved you as a big brother would love his younger brother. And I hope… I _hope_ I gave you all the love I had in me, all the love you needed to grow up into a smart, independent nation…'

'Y-you did…' I muttered.

'I loved being your "big brother"… but later on, I loved it even _more _to be your friend, to be an _equal_ nation to you, to… you know, hang around with you, like best friends do…'

He sighed.

'I… I liked that time. I liked it very much. It was great, being your best friend. But… but… w-well, after a while, I noticed I was beginning to see you… _differently_. I suddenly saw all those… those _other_ things, things that hadn't caught my eye before. Like the indescribable color of your eyes – I _still_ don't know if they're very light brown or very light green, ahaha… Or… or the way you get excited by looking at a field full of tomatoes or an old painting. Or the way you smile when you think nobody's looking…'

I blushed and frowned and wanted to look away, but he wouldn't let me.

'Ah, I'm not finished yet, Lovi…' he smiled, rubbing his thumb over my hand, '…my love, you should have imagined my surprise when I came to the unsettling discovery that I had fallen in love with you. That was… ah, well, that was a very weird day.'

'W-weird?' I repeated.

'Oh yes, weird! _Very_ weird!' He nodded wildly.

'Why?'

'My sweet Lovi… You don't know? Ah, you see, up to that point, I… I had _never_ fallen in love before. You… you were the first who managed to make me feel like I was actually _capable_ of feeling… _feelings_. Bad feelings. Awkward feelings. But mostly _good_ feelings. Feelings of love, longing and happiness – that was thanks to _you_, Lovino…'

He gave a quick yank to my hand and kissed me on the temple of my head, after which he looked at me again.

'…it _had _to be you, my love.'

'I… well, I…' I stuttered, shuffling closer to him – as if that even was still _possible _up to this point, '…f-for your information, you… you were also _my _first… first crush…'

'Ah, I know.' Antonio chuckled. 'It probably was a very silly time, right? The time we both knew we had feelings for one another, but didn't… _do _anything…'

'I-it was…I-I mean, there was a lot of beating around the bush, even though… even though we _did _fool around a bit already…' I agreed.

'I never "fooled around" with _you_, Lovino.'

Antonio gave me one of his loving smiles, the smiles he only smiled for _me_.

It… it made me feel tingly and special inside. It also made me press my face into his chest and sigh softly.

'…y-you damn… you're too… y-you… ugh… I… my… d-d-_darling_…'

Antonio's heartbeat sped up immediately. Then he swallowed something and gently pushed me back a bit, kissing me on the lips one more time.

'…n-now don't get too cute on me, L-Lovino, I-I might not be able to… to finish…' he stammered against my lips, slowly removing his own.

'Okay…' I said hoarsely, '…okay…'

'A-anyway…' Antonio carried on, standing up straight again, '…I… I was very happy when I found out… you felt the same about me. S-sure, it took us a lot of time and an invitation from Austria to… to finally admit each other's feelings, but it was worth it. It really was. I've never felt so happy before, Lovino, I never, _ever_ felt so damn good about _anything_. Falling in love with you and getting to hold and kiss and touch you, and be with you, and sharing good and bad times with you… it… it was wonderful.'

'Y-you're fucking exaggerating things, y-you bastard…' I heard myself say – and noticed there were once again tears filling my eyes, wanting to be shed.

Antonio smiled.

'In a way, you… you could say you saved me. Saved me from _myself_.'

I let out a incomprehensible whine.

'D-don't say that… I-I did _not_—'

'You _saved_ me, Lovino.' He insisted. '… saved me by _loving_ me. _Unconditionally_ loving me. Loving me for all what I am, and all that I have been.'

I couldn't form normal sentences anymore, fisted my free hand and rubbed it into my eyes fanatically.

Antonio watched me with loving eyes.

'I… I never thought there would be anybody in this world who would be able to love me. Who would _want _to love me. Who would want to receive _my_ love in return, too. So… so therefore… therefore…'

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed in deeply, slowly lowering himself on one knee without letting go of my hand.

I stopped violating my eyes and clasped my hand in front of my mouth, vaguely aware of some tears trickling down my cheeks.

'I… I want to ask you something, Lovino…' Antonio said, pressing a kiss on my other hand.

I gulped and wanted to nod, but then a horrible thought came to mind and I _scowled_ – instinctively.

'W-w-wait a minute. Before you're going to ask me… w-whatever you're going to ask me…'

Antonio looked up at me in surprise.

'…yes?'

'Um… well… I-I know you're kind of oblivious, Antonio, and I… I respect that. I don't get it, but I guess not-knowing the difference between France being friendly and France being perverted _can _be kind of charming. Probably.'

He just blinked.

'…ah?'

'However!'

I growled and narrowed my teary eyes.

'…I… I _swear _to_ everything _that's _good and holy _that I'll personally _rip_ _off_ your fucking _testicles_ and stomp them _flat_, if, after all this time, you were just talking about something _other _than marr… t-than marri—'

'…than _marriage_, Lovi?' Antonio informed, unfazed by my stammering threats as he kissed my hand again.

'Y-yes… t-than marriage, yes…' I panted. My knees trembled. Fuck , I hated it when that happened.

'I _am _talking about marriage, though.'

Antonio blushed again, but his face kept the serious and determined look.

He continued.

'I want to keep you by my side for the rest of my life. And no matter just how long that life's going to be, I want to live it with _you_. So… so Lovino…

…um…

…um…

…u-um…

…please… please marry me.'

**XxX**

Finally.

_Fucking __**finally**__!_

'Y-yes…'

I breathed in and out slowly, heavily, as I suddenly (but really not _that _suddenly) burst into tears and clasped my mouth even more, nodding my head like a madman.

'Yes. Oh yes. Oh _god _yes. A-a thousand times y-_yes_, you… you fucking… fucking bastard…'

Antonio couldn't stop smiling smiles that actually were too huge for his face.

'Ah, I'm… I'm happy. I'm so happy you… you want to be my husband, Lovino…'

'T-then w-why the hell aren't _you_ f-fucking crying!' I snapped, _lovingly_.

Antonio looked at me just as affectionately.

'Lovi… I…'

'Oh, s-shut up…'

I sobbed, instantly wrapped my hands behind his head and pressed his face to my chest, hugging him tightly.

'I-I love you, I love you so fucking much, I love love _love_ you…'

After recovering from the surprise-hug, he laughed a bit and happily nuzzled my chest, before he winded his arms around me and lifted me off the ground.

I gasped, holding on to him. 'W-what are you—'

'Just a minute…'

He gently put me on the railing and backed off, searching his pockets quickly.

'Wait for it… um…_ah!_'

He almost fell on me when I swung my legs around his waist and jerked my forwards.

'Y-you're too far away, d-dammit…' I huffed, running my hands through his hair and ignoring the nervous little laughs he let out after he had noticed the clenching legs around him.

'L-Lovino, that's dangerous!'

'S-see if I care…'

He looked up at me with a frown, but then he smiled again and held out something to me.

'Almost forgot to give you this…'

It was a small, simple ring. A silver one. A _beautiful _one.

I stared at it.

Antonio noticed and got worried.

'Ah… y-you… you don't like it…?'

Huh? I glanced at him in surprise.

'What are you talking about? Of course I like it, you moron. It's just…'

'Just what?' he asked.

I flushed brightly and looked down, to my fiddling hands on my lap.

'I… I never saw a wedding-ring before, s-so…'

Antonio sighed and when I raised my face, I saw he looked at the shiny ring critically.

'…mnn. Maybe… maybe you expected something golden, or something with a diamond… b-but I thought this suited you... no, _us_ the best. It's not much, though. I mean, I didn't even have enough money to buy you an engagement-ring as well. It's…'

'It's _perfect_, Antonio…' I said quietly, bending towards him to plant a small kiss on his cheek before retreating quickly, '…hum… I mean, it's… it's more than enough, dammit.'

His clouded expression cleared up as a happy, delighted blush once again colored his face and ears in a nice shade of red.

'You're so _sweet_, Lovi…'

I rolled my eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed.

'Y-you always think I'm sweet, even when I'm not sweet at all.'

He nodded and his normally _painfully_ glimmering eyes suddenly softened.

'Lovino?'

'Y-yes?'

He held up his hand.

'Let's see if it fits, okay.'

I looked from his expectant hand to his just as expectant face and swallowed a lump, shyly avoiding his eyes as I carefully placed my left hand in his.

Antonio closed his hand around mine for a second, his fingers touching and feeling my ring finger with the utmost care.

'Hey Lovi?' he then asked.

'W-what…' I mumbled, still not-looking at him.

'Do you know why the engagement- and wedding-rings are mostly put on the ring finger in most cultures?'

I frowned and hesitantly turned my face back to him.

'The hell I know. Because it looks nice or something?'

Antonio shook his head and slowly slipped the cold, silver band around my ring finger.

'It's because there's supposed to be a vein in your ring finger called _vena amoris – _vein of love.'

'V-vein of love, huh…' I repeated.

'Yes! Isn't that just lovely?' He beamed brightly at me, '…you see, back in the old days, they believed that _this _specific vein ran _directly_ from the heart to the ring finger. No silly obstacles or something on the way, no, it was a _direct_ connection.'

'Vein of love…' I muttered again, now while looking at the ring on my finger with something that looked mostly like a newfound respect, '…t-that sounds nice…'

Antonio grabbed my chin and softly tilted it up, until I our eyes met.

'It does, doesn't it?...'

'Y-yeah…'

The Spaniard smiled and I felt I lowered my hand again when he gently kissed me, my other hand gripping the railing firmly.

'A-Antonio.' I suddenly murmured, pulling back with wet lips and a ragged way of breathing, '…w-where's yours?'

'…my what, Lovi…' he hummed, before moving his face lower and pressing his tongue against my neck.

'Y-_your_ fucking ring, dammit…' I huffed, flinching as he started licking, '…_ah_– c-cut it out! Y-you have a ring as well, r-right?'

He stopped worshipping my neck and gave me a weird look, cocking his head.

'You also want to wear that one?'

'Wha— _no, _you dense idiot!' I grumbled, giving him a soft slap to the head, '…it's just… d-don't you want to wear yours for a bit?'

Antonio's eyes grew bigger and he nodded excitedly.

'O-of course I want to wear it!'

'C-can I… can I slip it on your finger, then?' I stammered as Antonio also took his own version of my silver ring out of his pocket.

He glanced at me sweetly and nodded again, not saying anything as he gave me his ring.

'Okay…' I took a better hold on the ring and looked at it. It wasn't much different than my own – maybe a little bit bigger. A very, _veryveryvery_ little bit bigger, since Antonio's fingers were rather slender. Not as slender as my own fucking perfect fingers – I mean, his looked like _sausages_ in comparison with mine – but still… h-he had nice fingers.

They _felt_ nice, too. Always.

…

I did not think that. Oh god. I did _not _think that.

I quickly shook the nasty, y-yet _somewhat_ sexy thought off me and focused myself on his left hand again.

But then Antonio started to whine.

'A-ah, Lovi, not on that hand, please.'

I looked at him. 'What do you mean?'

'I want to wear it on my right hand. Slip it on my right ring finger. Okay?~'

I blinked, not getting it.

'Why? Want to stand out?'

'Um… well…'

'Antonio. You're a guy who's going to marry _another_ man – believe me, you _will _stand out. Don't worry about that.'

'I-it's not about standing out, Lovi…' Antonio said with a timid smile, '…it's about… um… well, if… if I wear my ring on the right side and you yours on the left side, then they _click~_ if we're… you know… holding hands…'

…

My face got redder as the Spanish nation fidgeted.

'Oh. Y-you mean… _oh_.'

'It's _romantic_, right?~' he chirped.

'I… I guess…' I admitted, finally pulling his right hand closer to push the ring on his finger.

Antonio laughed softly and I shivered when his breath tickled my ear.

'…ah, just imagine, Lovi… our rings, pressed together _tightly_ while I'm making hot, passionate love with you…'

I gulped. I gulped even more when Antonio, as soon as his ring sat in place, reached for my own (ringed) hand and laced our fingers together.

'It'll be like this, just like _this_, my love… Would you… would you like that as well?'

I bit my lip – ouch, forgot the cut – and looked up at him.

'I… I would. But—'

'So…' he interrupted me by placing a soft kiss on my – for some reason partly exposed – chest, '…shall we… shall we go back inside and celebrate our engagement?'

I breathed out, forgetting his seductive question when I realized something.

'G-_god_. It's true. We're engaged. We're really _engaged_ now, aren't we?'

'Oh yes, we are as engaged as two people engaged can be!~' Antonio said cheerfully, _also_ forgetting his seductive tone for a minute since he was fucking _flaky_ like that.

'We… we're going to get married…' I stared at Antonio with probably the biggest and brightest eyes ever, laughing a bit as I enclosed my arms loosely around Antonio's neck, '…holy _shit_, I-I'm going to be a husband…'

Antonio smiled gleefully and put his hands on my back, his face still looking quite pinkish, but not as red as it used to be anymore.

'Congratulations, Lovi.'

…

I blushed deeply and was speechless for a short moment. During that moment, I pulled his head closer to mine and held his flustered face in my hands, eventually giving him a soft peck.

'…y-you, too…' I managed to say, my voice barely audible, '…you… c-congratulations with… with our engagement, darling.'

I didn't even stutter this time.

Antonio gasped softly. I felt he fisted his hands in my shirt.

'Y-you called me darling again…'

'W-well…' I mumbled, casually tracing his jaw with a finger while frowning, '…w-what's wrong with that? You… you kind of _are _my darling, Antonio…'

'I-I am?...' he stammered.

'S-shit, you… you _know _you are, bastard…'

'Lovi…'

He tightened his grip around me and gave me an admiring, y-yet strangely intense look, a look that made me shudder and caused a familiar feeling in my… l-lower regions to build up rapidly.

O-oh _shit_. I didn't want to ruin the quiet, peaceful mood, so I quickly pushed my knees together, shuffling uncomfortably.

'S-so anyway! What do _you_ think about the euro? What a fucking waste of time and money, right?'

…

…what? It was a sincere question!

However, Antonio wasn't _that_ dense (amazing, I know – _I'd_ have taken the bait) and smiled, pushing my legs apart again.

'A-ah…' I heard myself choke out, giving in easily, '…wh-what are you… d-don't look, don't _look_, dammit…'

'Why not?' Antonio tore his gaze from the embarrassing tent that was forming in my pants to look at me with an almost childish innocence, '…I think it's great to see I'm making my charming fiancé _this_ aroused…'

'F-fuck…' I wheezed, struggling against his hands effortlessly, '…n-now the whole dang mood has gone down the drain…'

'Down the drain, Lovi?'

Antonio frowned, let go of my legs and took a hold on me, lifting me off the railing and moving his face _extremely_ close to mine by dropping me a bit lower.

'…w-what the fuck are you doing…' I breathed, arms still awkwardly folded behind his head. I couldn't suppress a raspy gasp when I felt something hard brush my crotch.

'Ah, what's the problem, my love? So what if you're turned on… _I'm _turned on as well… I want to have sex with you just as much…' Antonio panted, eyes clouded by what seemed a dangerous combination of love and sheer _lust_, '…we're just two engaged lovers who want to do it with each other. It's fairly normal. So what's wrong with that?...'

I looked away from him and tried to control my way of breathing.

'I-I liked the… the gentle, romantic atmosphere. But now—'

'It's not _gone_, Lovi…' Antonio assured me, rubbing soft circles on my back, '…ah, you think the romance is gone as soon as we start making love? You're wrong, my love… since I'm going to love and embrace you with as gentle and romantic as possible tonight…'

I breathed in sharply. Fuck. Bastard knew I liked slow, tender lovemaking.

…

…wait, was that even a _bad_ thing?

'Is that okay, Lovino?' Antonio suddenly asked.

'Huh?' I snapped out of it and looked at him.

His face flushed a bit, squeezing me closer.

'…m-making love with you, Lovi… is it okay? Are you… okay with that?'

I stared at him for a second. Then I smiled and pinched his cheeks.

'Ow!'

'S-stupid. I told you earlier I would l-like that, didn't I?'

He nodded, massaging one of his cheek.

'I… I just also wanted to add – right before you fucking _interrupted_ me with that perverted chest kiss of yours – that you should be _very_… n-ngh… y-you know… since my butt's still…'

'I'll be gentle…' Antonio promised and kissed my cheek, '…I'll be very gentle, my love…'

'W-well…' I swallowed and patted his head, '…well, that's all I needed to know.'

He chuckled.

'I love you, Lovino…'

'Yeah.' I changed my nonchalant patting into slow, caressing touches. '…I-I love you too.'

'Shall we then, sweetie?~'

'…o-okay…'

We went back inside.


	44. Money Maker II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __Last week, some guy went insane and killed over 65 innocent young people who were camping in a big group on a Nordic island. It was a fucking bloodbath. He just kept shooting.  
__That same man__ was also responsible for the explosion in Oslo, the capital city of Norway, earlier that day (that killed at least 8 people).  
__They captured him easily. He turned out to be an extremist who "just" wanted to get some attention to his stupid opinion about how the Western part of Europe should get rid of everyone who doesn't share his extreme Jewish/Catholic and racist views on the continent. He "had" to do this, he reasoned. Since all those foreigners are no good for Norway/Europe.  
__As if sick fuckers like he himself __**are **good for us. Dear god...  
_…  
_Ahh, sorry about that – felt like saying something about the mess in Norway… _

_A/n2: My mother was celebrating her 48__th__ birthday last Saturday, so I couldn't reply to most reviews earlier than when I eventually did… and I was literally BLOWN AWAY when I saw all of the reviews, PM's, Alerts and Favorites stuffed in my mailbox this week. Oh god. You guys, you guys… stop pampering me!~ Actually, no. Continue the pampering. I __**love**__ the pampering. _XDDDD

_A/n3: A lot of you asked me if I was going to do the wedding of Toni and Lovi as well. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not planning to do that: I know nothing about weddings and I don't think it's really relevant to the fic. I AM going to write out the wedding night, though, since that IS relevant to the fic. Ohhh yes._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLIV:

_**The Money Maker  
**__**(Rilo Kiley**__**)**_

'H-hey, Antonio?'

I breathed in and out slowly, heart beating incredibly rapidly again as Antonio stopped unbuttoning my shirt and gave me a loving smile.

'Yes, my love?...'

'H-how…' I muttered, sitting up on the bed and trying to avoid staring at his broad, already naked chest,

'…how did you get it? You know… the permission?'

The Spaniard blinked and made a face as if he was thinking really, _really_ hard – while grabbing my (also already naked) legs, spreading them, pulling me on his lap and_ fucking continuing to undress me like it was the most normal thing to do in the world _(which it was, well, at least in _our _world) at the same time, that p-perverted bastard.

Then he chuckled, gently pushing down my yellowish (t-that's right, I was actually wearing a _colorful _piece of clothing today) button-down, causing me to shiver and rub my arms when I felt the chilly air of the room hit my skin.

'Ah… I'm sorry, Lovi – I don't know what you mean. Must be because of your gorgeous body. _God_, and _gorgeous_ it is. It distracts me too much!~'

I glared at him, pulled up my button-down a bit and flung a hand in his face, pushing it back.

'Y-your fucking _face _distracts me too much, dammit!'

Antonio simply laughed and gave a lick to my hand, which really _shouldn't_ have made me tremble and shudder as much as it did, but, well, like I said, it _did, _and I quickly pulled back my hand, hissing.

'God, y-you're such a… s-such a…'

I swallowed the rest of my sentence when Antonio was once again pushing down my shirt.

'Love you, Lovi… love you so, so much…' he sighed, smiling absentmindedly at me while trying to slide one of my arms out of a sleeve, and let one of his _own_ arms slide down my waist.

Lower… and lower… and that was _definitely_ some _folding_ I was feeling no—

E-enough, enough…

I blushed, furrowed my brows and squeezed my eyes almost shut, swatting his hands away and slipping back into my button-down, because he still hadn't answered my damn _question_ and, of course, because I was stubborn as fuck.

Unfortunately, Antonio _loved _playing with me whenever I was acting like an unruly little brat and just beamed even _brighter_ at me, pulling my shirt down again.

I pulled it back up.

He pulled it down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

I felt like a fucking roller-blind.

Enough with this shit!

I was getting annoyed and pulled my button-down back up with a firm yank (this _really_ wasn't doing my clothing any good) and a frustrated face, ready to snarl the _crap_ out of that fucking Spanish bastard if he had the nerve to touch my very expensive piece of clothing again…

…but then Antonio was suddenly kissing me hard, possessively, _passionately _and I instantly felt my powers weakening as he wrapped warm, safe arms around me and began moving his weight on top of me.

O-oh god, oh god.

I tried to struggle, tried to stop him from pressing me to the mattress, but… but he just… kept _kissing _me like that, kept _touching _me like that and kept whispering all kinds of sweet nothings to me as he slowly pushed me down…

…i-it just was no use. No use at all.

So before I was even fully aware of it, I was lying on my back, face burning and eyes slowly closing while Antonio's persistent tongue was exploring my mouth like only _his _could, finding, greeting and rubbing my own tongue greedily.

As I was panting and shivering and after a mere minute even abruptly _clamping_ the Spanish bastard between my thighs (d-damn asshole drove me crazy, h-he drove me fucking _crazy_), Antonio's hands didn't stop pulling on my clothing and I moaned weakly… n-no, _growled_ _**manly**_ when he ridded my squirming body of the button-down…

…well, _almost _ridded it of the button-down. Since my arms and hands were still trapped.

Antonio noticed and frowned, pulling back, way of breathing shortened – and _heavier_ than before.

'Wha… what the f-fuck do you think you're doing…' I wheezed, my sight a bit hazed and my chest rising and lowering quickly, '…g-get back d-down here _right now_, mister, I-I'm not finished with you yet…'

Good one, Lovino! Almost as if I was the one in charge here!

…

Psssh. Like _that _would ever happen.

'But Lovi, I… I-I can't get your arms out…' Antonio said in a low, somewhat whining voice, '…ah, I hate it when you put on clothes like this… it's so hard to get you out of it…'

I glared at him. With a furious, unsure blush, still breathing kind of weird.

'W-why don't you just… just rip it off, then…'

'But it's _Armani_, Lovino! You _love _Armani!'

'_Fuck _fucking Armani!' I snapped.

GASP!

Oh, the horrible, _sinful_ things I said when turned on...

Luckily I didn't also say the corny "but I love you more than Armani"-sentence that was tumbling around in my mind.

…

…m-maybe I _should _have said that, though.

…

O-oh, never mind…

Meanwhile, my little outburst didn't have _any_ effect on Antonio, since he still shook his head and backed off a bit.

'No. I'm not doing that. I'd hurt you if I'd rip your shirt off, Lovi. And I really don't want to hurt you.'

I stared at him and vaguely wondered how it could be that even _those_ two short, kind sentences were more than enough to make my heart swell up in delight.

'What the…o-of course you wouldn't hurt me, dammit…' I muttered softly, '…I-I mean, those buttons are really loose…'

'I _promised_ you I'd be gentle with you, Lovino. So I'm not doing _anything_ that could possibly hurt you more than necessary.' Antonio stated.

I flushed and forced back a smile.

'S-sweet bastard…'

He was pleasantly surprised by my compliment, yet didn't really know what to say in response – so he just smiled at me and leant forwards, kissing me again. Quickly, b-but affectionately.

After he pulled back, I took a deep breath.

'O-okay. Wait. Give me a second…'

In one movement, I suddenly sat up, started yanking at my sleeves, flailing my arms and cursing all kinds of curses as I began a frightful fight to the motherfucking _death _with my own piece of clothing.

It was fucking _epic._

But not really.

During all of this, Antonio just observed me in relative silence, sitting on my lap and trying hard not to burst out laughing when he saw me flapping my arms like a spastic, mentally challenged bird.

'Fucking _shit_!' I hissed, wincing when I didn't get my hand through the cuff (cuff of fucking _hell_) and staring at the annoying buttons as if the tiny bastards had personally offended me.

Which they had.

_Fuck_ _you_, buttons! Fuck you all!

'Ah, come here, come here, Lovi…' Antonio all of a sudden said, still chuckling a bit, and took a careful hold of one of my wrists.

'W-what, I can do it myself, I can—'

I instantly shut up when Antonio swiftly unbuttoned my cuff and ran a hand over my reddened wrist tenderly.

'Does it hurt?'

'Not at all, dammit.' I lied, pursing my lips when I saw (and felt) the red mark.

'Liar.' Antonio calmly said, and also unbuttoned the other cuff.

I just huffed.

But I stopped huffing when Antonio freed me from my button-down by pulling it off me slowly, _very _slowly, and throwing it somewhere behind him.

'Better?~' he informed, moving closer to me again.

'B-better…' I nodded automatically – and just as automatically let myself fall back on the bed again, looking up at him with a blush that had only gotten more and more vivid.

'N-now… now just come here, d-dammit, a-and k-k-kiss me…'

I even stretched my arms out to his face and softly stroke his cheeks, not caring about how terribly flustered and freaking _lovestruck_ I probably must have looked.

Antonio saw, though.

'L-Lovi…' he stammered, his cheeks getting warmer as he carefully lowered himself on me and placed a series of chaste kisses on my lips.

'…you're so (kiss) _adorable_… so very (kiss) _adorable_ and (kiss) _sweet_ and (kiss kiss) _irresistible_…'

'I-I know…' I heard myself say, after he disconnected our lips after the last kiss.

His eyes lit up and he smiled, amused.

'Ah, you know?~'

'W-well…' I mumbled, '…you're… you're saying it all the time, dammit, so yeah, I know.'

'And? Do you believe me?' he asked, plucking one of my hands of his face and intertwining his fingers with mine.

I breathed out slowly and swore my heart started beating faster when I, just like he had said earlier, heard a soft _clink_ as our rings were pressed together.

'I-I believe it, yes…'

'Good.'

He kissed me again, a bit longer now, a bit more _impatient _now, and squeezed our hands tightly.

'Very good… very, _very _good, my lovely love…'

'I-I love you…' I managed to say, running one of my legs over his back (I just was bendy like that) and moving one hand behind his head to pull him further down.

He pressed his forehead against mine.

'I love you too… now, Lovi… could you please…'

'Y-yes…?' I stuttered, hopefully, almost fucking _desperately_.

'…explain to me what that was about "permission"?'

…

I stared at him.

'…what?'

He looked at me with a sheepish, confused expression.

'You said something about… permission, remember? How I got it or something?'

…

Oh sweet_ GOD._

'You…' I bit on my tongue to avoid a deep sigh from being sighed, '…seriously, Antonio… w-we lying on bed like _this_, we're pretty much _naked_, my _legs _are wrapped around you, I can _feel _your _dick_ pressed to my _thigh_, you're free to do _whatever _you fucking_ want _with me… and you _now _want to know what I was talking about? _Really_?'

He pouted. 'That's not fair, I _told_ you I was distracted by your body! Then I expected you to explain me what you meant, but you suddenly… started to act really, really sexy!'

'T-that was because you pulled off my shirt! I even tried to _fight_ it, dammit!'

'…that was _fighting_?'

'Watch it, bastard, one more word and you won't get any tonight.'

Antonio, already used to my empty threats and not impressed by it at all, just laughed at that, _somehow _managing to change the atmosphere back to sultry and lustful.

'Well… _still_… you could have explained what you meant instead of… being the hot, sexy Italian you are, Lovino…'

He then moved his face lower, his lips placing small, teasing kisses along my jaw line until he reached my neck – which he started sucking gently.

I swore quietly and tugged his hair.

'F-fuck, fuck…'

Antonio smirked against my neck and gave a final kiss to the slightly bruised skin before looking me in the eyes again, the hand that wasn't holding mine caressing the side of my face with slow, soothing touches.

'So tell me, Lovi… what were you talking about?'

I felt my upper lip stiffen as I glared up at him and grumbled softly.

He chuckled and squeezed my – _our _hands.

'Can't you feel it, my love? The mood? The air? Ah, even though I asked you a question that hasn't got anything to do with romantic sex or gentle romance, the mood has still not gone, as you called it, "down the drain"…'

'Humpf.' I humpfed, embarrassed.

'…right?' Antonio asked and bowed his head, kissing the tip of my nose.

'I… I…' I murmured, shutting up when his soft lips came really _really _close to mine again to press a clumsy kiss on them – 'cause I loved to take opportunities like these, no matter how shy I acted when I took them.

His cheeks reddened again and his eyes closed for a split-second, enjoying the brief contact, before he pulled away and gave me an encouraging nod.

'Tell me, sweetie.'

…

…s-so I did.

**xXx**

'I… I was talking about our bosses.' I started – and did my best to sound serious, since it was a serious matter.

Antonio smiled and lazily tapped a finger against my lips, effortlessly succeeding in keeping the mood as good as it was.

'Our bosses, you say…'

I nodded, trembling a little when his finger ran over my upper and lower lip.

'What's _with_ our bosses then, Lovino?' he then asked, moving his finger to my cheek, '…and what do they have to do with us?'

I took a deep breath.

'…you… you _did _ask them for permission to… to get married to me, right…?'

'Of _course_!' Antonio reassured me with a proud smile, '…I really, _really_ prepared this whole engagement, popping the question-thing, Lovi! I knew I had to ask the King of Spain if it was okay to get married… and I had to ask the President of Italy for your hand in marriage.'

He chuckled.

'Ah, that boss of yours… he looked kind of freaked out, ahaha…'

I frowned.

'Yeah. He never really liked it that Feliciano and I were… you know. Gay and stuff.'

'Hm-hm.' He gave another light squeeze to my hand.

'So… so how did it go? How did you get his permission?'

Antonio's smile now faltered a bit.

'He had to think about it for a while, but eventually he gave me his permission to marry you, since he knows how we feel about each other and because he – believe it or not – didn't want to stand in our way… but… Lovi, you know that rumor, right? That it's not easy for us personifications to get married to each other if there isn't a political matter behind it?'

'Of course.'

'Well…' Antonio licked his lips and sighed, '…well, it _really_ isn't easy. There are a lot of rules we are forced to follow, if we want to get – and _stay_ – married.'

'What rules?'

He drew circles on my cheek with his finger. '…for example, you can't… _officially_ move in with me. And I can't officially move in with _you_.'

I stared at him with a panicked look on my face.

'B-but…'

'However,' Antonio quickly continued, '…you _are _allowed to stay over at my place as much and as long as you want. As long as you don't call it "moving in", that is.'

I blinked. 'That's fucked up.'

'Ah, who cares?' he smiled and nuzzled my other cheek, '…at least we get to stay together…'

'Are… are there more weird rules like that?' I muttered, lowering the hand in his hair to his neck.

'Yes – we also have to keep our own last names.'

'So I can't get your…' I mumbled, almost inaudible.

He had heard me, though, and sadly shook his head.

'You can't, Lovi. We're unique personifications of nations. We would be… um, too _human _if we… took the last name of another living being. Besides, your last name would be Spanish then. I doubt the Italian people would really want their personification to have a Spanish surname…'

'My surname already _is _Spanish, though.'

'Huh?' Antonio eyed me confusedly.

'Vargas.' I explained. 'It's a _Spanish_ surname.'

'It really _does_ sound Spanish, yes…' he agreed. '…ah, how strange…'

I snorted. 'See? It's _fucked_ _up_. All of this.'

'Ah, watch your language, Lovi.'

'But anyway… Spanish surname or not, that doesn't change the matter, does it?' I continued, looking at our connected hands with a frown, '…I still can't get your last name.'

'But you _do _get to marry me.' Antonio softly said.

'Y-yeah? You _sure_ about that?' I hesitated, blushing.

'Absolutely. I mean, they gave me - _us_ the green light, didn't they? Both your and my boss. So it's alright. We can get married, my love…'

He beamed at me and pulled our hands closer, kissing the fingers. I let him, maybe, _maybe _smiling a teeny, tiny bit. Then Antonio released my hand and lowered his face, licking my neck lazily.

I gasped and my body twitched when I felt both of his hands slid down to my nipples, rubbing them.

'Ah, I think… I think we've been talking for too long, Lovi…' He whispered against my neck, '…oh, by the way, I promised you I'd make love to you as sweetly as possible, right…?'

'T-that's rig— a-ah, _ah_…' I shuddered as Antonio rolled the already hardened nubs of flesh between them, my mind getting foggy in the most wonderful way.

'Well, I'm not sure if I'm _able_ _to_ right now. I think… I think I need to prepare myself more, if I really, really need to make love to you… the way you want me to. The way that leaves you breathless.'

'Y-you…' I gulped and collected his face in my hands, tilting it up, '…y-you _always _leave me breathless, s-stupid… always…'

He smiled.

'You know what I mean, Lovino. I want it to be perfect. Perfect for you. And me. The both of us.'

Another pinch. Another startled moan coming from me.

'…w-w-what do you suggest, then…' I asked huskily.

'Our wedding night.' He smiled some more. '…let's make our wedding night _the _perfect night, my love… full of lovemaking and love and sweetness and… ah, you know what I mean, sweetie…'

I stared at him with an disgustingly excited blush and stroke some fucking annoying strands of hair out of my sweaty face.

'…y-you're making me curious, dammit. You… you're really going to prepare a night like that for me?'

'Naturally.' He nodded and replaced his hand, that had been fiddling with my left nipple, with his mouth, licking, kissing and nipping the flesh and sending tiny, mean jolts of pleasure through my entire body as he did so.

'A-Antonio…' I heard myself whine, trying to push his face off my chest while staring at the ceiling above me, panting and wondering but not _really_ wondering why my vision was blurred so much,

'…w-what…_ah_… what are… o-_oh_… um… t-tonight, what are you planning to—'

His teeth let go of me – and I tried to avoid looking at the long trail of spit that ran from his mouth to my abused, warmed-up nipple – and he gave me a soft smile, licking his saliva off his lips.

'Have sex with you of course, silly!~ Maybe not exactly _perfect _sex, but still… enjoyable. Gentle. Because I love you. I love you _so much_, my love…'

I breathed out in short puffs.

'…love y-you too, d-dammit.'

'I know you do. Now…' Antonio raised one of his eyebrows and grabbed my hips, pulling them against his own to grind our erections together, '…since – _ah_, you're so _hard _already, Lovi_ –_ since this night… is going to be unpredictable anyway, do you have any… _requests_, Lovino? Want me to… _do_ something?~'

…

God.

My eyes, which had been partly closed up to now, snapped open when a whining, yet surprisingly _persistent_ topic started knocking on the door of my common sense again – a topic that, if I'm really honest with myself, I actually had decided to forget about, since it wasn't going to happen anyway.

But there it was again.

The topping-topic.

Thought I had ridded my mind of it, thought I unconsciously had sad goodbye to this _doomed to fail_ plan of mine – come on, I hadn't even been able to top the bastard when he was still _sick_ – but _noooo_, no, it was still roaming around restlessly, somewhere in a secret room of my brains, probably the room where _all_ of my embarrassing desires were stuffed away.

…

I…

I could tell him _now, _really.

I mean… he had asked me if I had any requests.

And _man_, I _sure_ had a couple of those.

…

B-but I didn't _want _it to be a fucking _request!_

I didn't want to politely _ask _him to _please _let me have the honor to top him!

That… that wouldn't make me _equal_ to him, dammit, and I _wanted _to be equal to him. And he had said himself that he wanted to be equal to _me _as well, so… so…

…so what the fucking fuck was I supposed to do _now_!

'Lovino?'

'Hm…?'

I looked down and blinked my eyes when I saw him looking at me worriedly.

'Are you okay?'

'O-of course I'm okay!' I sputtered immediately, '…wh-why, don't I look okay?'

He gave me a somewhat relieved, loving smile.

'You look wonderful, Lovi.'

I flushed and lost my ability to speak for a moment. I just couldn't handle it if that bastard was being sweet to me like this.

'But…' His face fell, '…you got awfully quiet when I asked you if you had any requests. You looked troubled.'

'D-did I?' I mumbled.

'You did. As if something's… _bothering _you..'

'U-um…'

'You… you _know_ you can tell me everything, right…?' Antonio carried on, rubbing the sides of my hips carefully, '…everything you want, my love… _everything_.'

…

T-too sweet for his own good.

Too fucking _sweet_ for his own fucking _good_.

Asking him would be so much easier. So, _so _much easier. He'd understand. He'd comply. He'd do it right away. I knew all of that.

_But_.

I bit my bruised lower lip and ignored the sting of pain.

My Italian pride wouldn't let me.

'…it's nothing.' I heard myself murmur, swallowing a heavy lump in my throat, '…I'm just worrying about the… euro, I guess.'

'The _euro_?'

Antonio cocked his head and frowned, looking slightly annoyed – and, for some reason, disappointed.

'…pardon my French, Lovi, but since when do you give a rat's ass about the euro? This is already the second time you mentioned it, and call me oblivious or stupid, but I honestly don't see why that's _more_ important for you than… than me… than _us_ right now…'

He sounded sad. Fuck. What the hell was I doing?

'I lied! I… I _do _have a request!' I quickly blabbered, patting and rubbing his arms hysterically in a silly attempt to be nice to him, '…it's… it's just a really embarrassing request, so I didn't dare to tell you!'

The frown on his forehead lost the biggest wrinkle in it, but not all of them.

'…is that so?'

'Yes! Yes, it _is_ so!' I insisted.

'Ah, well… what's that embarrassing request of yours, then?' he asked, now looking genuinely reassured, and suddenly took a firm hold of my butt cheeks, massaging them slowly.

I shivered. His hands had gotten a bit cold.

'U-um…'

I quickly searched my mind for other possible requests, requests that were embarrassing to ask, maybe, but _allowed _to be asked, and…

…

I…

I was amazed at how fast I found a suitable request.

'I-I…' I said, voice unsteady and hoarse, '…could you… um… I'd like you to… g-give me a… a…'

…

…oh great. I couldn't say _that_, either. I couldn't say fucking _anything_, could I? _God_. Maybe I should just crawl off the bed and smack my face into the floor a couple of times to get some _sense _into that empty thing I called _brain_.

However, unexpectedly, Antonio chuckled and kissed my chest.

'Aha. Want me to suck you off, Lovi?~'

…

I stared at him with eyes spread wide open.

'Wow. That's _scary_.'

'What is?' Antonio said.

'You catch on_ extremely _quick when it's about sex, don't you?'

He grinned wolfish and leaned down on me.

'So it's true, hm?~'

He pressed his lips on my torso, dragging them down my body, leaving an impressive, almost straight, wet trail of sloppy, soft kisses and loving nips on my feverish skin.

'…I-I'm – _ah_ – not saying it's.. _un_true…' I muttered quietly, biting back a soft yelp when one of his hands got adventurous and shifted, sliding just a little bit in-between my ass cheeks.

Wait…

…

I had been completely naked – save my upper body – all this time?

…

My _god_, I'm so _slow_. I wish _I _could catch on quick when it was about sex, dammit.

He paused the admittedly _wonderful, oh so wonderful _Lovino-worshipping when he reached…w-well… t-the end of my torso, and _stared_.

And _stared_.

And _stared._

…

Oh god. F-fucking embarrassing, so fucking _embarrassing_…

'W-w-would you _stop_ it already?' I stammered, quickly closing my knees and attempting to crawl further up, away from him, before my face would catch on fucking fire.

But Antonio just grabbed me and pushed my knees open again, just as easily as before, chuckling softly. He stopped laughing when he saw my face though, probably because it was red from embarrassment and shame, possibly even redder than when we were still on the balcony.

'Lovi, Lovi, what's wrong?'

'You…' I clenched my teeth and scowled, '…y-you're _gawking_ at it, d-dammit… it's… it's fucking weird…'

He looked at me with a blank expression on his face, as if he was (once again) doing his best to understand what I was saying, but failed at it epically, just like that one time he tried to understand a painting of Salvador Dali and ended up getting horny as _fuck_.

Then a small smile escaped from the Spaniard's lips and he placed a finger right on the very tip of my erection, lazily rubbing it with that one digit.

'O-oh _god—_' I shrieked and clamped my hands on my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut.

I heard Antonio hum as he continued teasing me and a violent shiver ran through my whole body as he started talking again – his warm, no, _hot _breath meeting my already throbbing dick.

'Ah, I don't blame you for getting embarrassed and sensitive, my love… after all, when was the last time I took you in my mouth, hm? It's been a while…'

He put another finger on the tip, never stopping rubbing me, and kissed the side. Then licked it. Then kissed it again.

O-o-oh, s-sweet holy…

I let out a low, soft moan and pressed my hands on my mouth even more insistently.

'I remember you _did_ give me an amazing blowjob less than a week ago…' Antonio said, after giving two more licks, '…ah, you looked so sexy, Lovino… so very _sexy_… you even let me come in your mouth – and I know how much you dislike that taste…'

I was still struggling against my own noises and tried to control my breathing and was actually doing a pretty good job at that, even with Antonio lisping perverted things and licking/breathing down like that, until... until I felt a sharp, yet not _completely_ unwanted pain coming from my backside when _another_ two fingers, the fingers of the hand that had been kneading and clutching my ass, were swiftly thrust inside of me.

'_Gah!_'

I hadn't expected that, I _really _hadn't, and dropped my hands on the bed, grabbing the thin sheets and panting loudly, uncontrollably, _almost_ calming down and getting used to the pumping fingers… when Antonio pushed one of my legs up, hooked it over his shoulder and guided me into his mouth.

Oh god. Oh _god._

I let out another rather loud cry and instinctively fisted my hands in his hair, my eyes rolling back and my back arching.

Too much. Too… too much feelings, too much tongue, too much fingers, _too_ _much_.

I-I couldn't even focuson _what_ to focus on, there was too much happening, I couldn't even, couldn't even…

'W-w-what… _ah, ahh… AH! _N-not at t-the same time, n-not at the s-same time, y-you ba… _nngh… haa…_'

I tried to protest, feeling slightly disgusted with myself when I started to move and rock my body in the same slow rhythm of his experienced fingers and bobbing head, but it was useless, it was useless, it felt too good, too good…

Antonio sucked, nibbled, licked, rubbed and let me slide in and out of his mouth, his eyes darkened and half-lidded as he looked up to watch me, gently caressing the trembling leg that was hanging on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, he sneaked a third finger into my slowly loosening ass, groaning around my dick as he felt I clenched, which vibarations caused _me_ to make even _more _noise.

'Oh _god… _A-Antonio, you're… _ah, ah… _so good, s-so good, god, mnnh, don't stop, don't… Antonio, _Antonio_…'

I was close.

_God, _I was _close_.

_Everybody _would be, if they had the same feelings and the same sight as me:

The hot feeling of your cock almost getting fucking _swallowed_ by a warm, wet mouth… the burning feeling of your ass getting fingered and stretched up and fingers repeatedly being pressed against that one _fantastic _spot… the sight of an aroused Spaniard getting only more aroused as he suckled and watched you with lustful eyes and a faint blush on his face…

…seriously, I should give myself some credits for being able to keep myself from climaxing for this long…

But I wasn't going to last for much longer.

'A-ah, ah, _ah_…'

I couldn't stop my voice from shaking and getting higher pitched. I in- and exhaled hurriedly and my body moved on its own – pushing itself down harder on Antonio's fingers and burying my dick deeper into his eager mouth almost simultaneously.

It… it hurt my lower body to bend like that, to push back and forth like that, but somehow, it worked, it was endurable, and before I even realized I was already at my edge, my _very_ edge, and I came in his mouth with a throaty moan.

And then… then everything looked a bit white and blurry…

**xXx**

After sucking everything, and I mean _everything, 'till the last fucking drip of cum_ out off my dick, conveniently ignoring my gasping, somewhat freaked-out reaction to that – _'HOLY FUCKING SHIT JUST LET GO OF IT ALREADY!' – _Antonio finally let my dick slip out of his mouth (and his fingers out of my ass) and took a deep, surprisingly shaky breath, looking up at me.

I just… stared back at him, my body still fucking _spazzing_ from the aftereffects, my throat sore and dry from all the panting and wheezing.

I don't know _how _long we've been like that, staring at each other and breathing and doing nothing more _but _staring at each other and breathing, but at a certain point, Antonio swore softly and got up from his knees – he had been on the floor? – his legs wobbly and his face flustered as he looked down.

'…oh. That's… _oh_.'

I blinked and wiped my sweaty forehead as I sat up a bit.

'…w-what?'

He looked back at me and grinned sheepishly.

'…a-ah, maybe you shouldn't look at the carpet tomorrow morning…'

I felt my jaw dropped.

'…you mean…'

'A-ahaha…' He nodded.

'Seriously?'

'A-ahahahaha…' He nodded even more.

'But… you just… I didn't…' I sputtered, blushing brightly as I watched Antonio rub his (earlier abandoned) shirt over his stomach hurriedly.

'Hm? You didn't… what, Lovi?'

He tossed the piece of clothing away without looking at it and crawled back onto the bed, looking content, but also slightly embarrassed as he sat in front of me.

'I… what the _hell _made _you_ come?' I managed to ask, staring up at him with big eyes, '…I mean, all I did was… u-um…'

'Making noises.' Antonio smiled dreamily. '…ah, _wonderful_ noises. I love your voice. It's so _loving_ and _honest_ when it says my name…'

'…my voice? T-that alone made you come?' I gulped.

His smile became a bit uneasy now.

'W-well, what _else_ could have made me come? My hands were… busy.'

'T-they were.' I shivered, shifting a bit when feeling a familiar pain below my waist.

'Ah… but you were very _hot_, Lovi. I loved it. And I love _you_!~' Antonio cheerfully said, moving closer to me on all fours to press a kiss on my lips.

I frowned and pushed him away a bit.

'D-don't kiss me when you've just…'

He pouted. 'But it's all gone now, Lovi! Really! I swallowed all of it!~ My mouth's empty!'

I gave him a timid look, not-wanting to admit that I'd actually like to kiss him.

'R-really…?'

He came closer.

'_Really_, my love.'

'Oh. That's… good.'

'So…' He practically _pushed _his face to mine and stole a quick kiss, '…a second round's probably too much to ask – I mean, you're still catching your breath, and so am _I_, actually – but… can we at least kiss for a bit longer?'

'I-I think so…' I muttered, bashfully wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him down with me as I let myself fall on the mattress again.

He chuckled happily and kissed me all over my face, before his lips returned to my mouth and deepened the kiss that followed immediately, his arms holding me tightly.

I sighed and also winded my legs around him in response.

Oh, I loved kissing him, I loved kissing him so much…

…

But then…

Um.

Well.

For…

For a minute or two, nothing really notable happened during our sloppy making out -session.

We just… kissed a lot. And maybe there was a bit of groping. And maybe a bit of grinding, too.

But nothing more.

Nothing… that could turn me or Antonio on, really.

…

At least, that's what I half-heartedly _believed_ up to that point.

But after a lot of… m-maybe not-so innocent fumbling and touching, and after feeling my fluttering heartbeat bonking against his own fluttering heartbeat, I wasn't surprised at all when something large was carefully, _slowly_ pressed into me, until all of it was filling me.

'Ah...'

I moaned quietly and dug my nails into Antonio's slippery skin when he started moving, hitting all the right spots and whispering to me if it was okay, if I didn't feel any pain, if he could continue loving me like this, if he could continue holding me like this for much, much longer.

And between short gasps and interrupted sighs, I assured him it was okay, it was _very_ okay, and held on to him for the rest of the night, encouraging to keep on moving, keep on moving, no matter what, keep on moving.

So he did.

He clasped our hands, fingers and rings together and he _did._

…

I loved it, really.


	45. Buttocks II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Guess what's happening in the Netherlands this weekend? The Gay Pride!~ Know what that means? Well, I'm not even too sure myself (too lazy to pay attention to the news), but it involves a lot of gay/bisexual/straight people dressing themselves up like the most hilarious things you can imagine (last year, some people were dressed as cardboard boxes – CARDBOARD BOXES. I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING), a lot of over the top-decorated boats, and a lot of crazy male!straight!students from around my age, getting themselves drunk and deflowered. __Well, in my imagination, at least. _*shot*  
_Why the Dutch do this? To celebrate the wonderfulness that is homosexuality, of course. And because we're nuts. Yay!_^^ _Now, I'm not gay myself, but some of my relatives are – and I tell you, they always seem to explode with excitement whenever it's THAT time of the year. _XDDDDD _My cousin (who's just like Feli, actually, only with more common sense and an IQ of 1600000) wants to go as the main character of Sister Act this year, for example – and the best part is… he's a scrawny little guy. PFFFRRT. YESSS. YOU GO, J., I BELIEVE IN YOU~ _

_A/n2: Dear Tamer. If you read this – and I know you will – then please know I hate you for encouraging me to write the sequel of Bottoms-Up!, because now I'm heavily doubting between taking a long, well-deserved break after this monster-fic and immediately continuing with the next fic.  
__GAH. GAAAAAAH, I say.  
__It's all your fault. _*throws curtains at you*

_A/n3: New song I'm addicted to: "Somebody That I Used to Know"_ _from Gotye. It's… unf. Perfect. It crawls under my skin in the best possible ways._^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLV:

_**The Buttocks  
**__**(Kreatur**__**)**_

A few hours after my and Antonio's passionate and _oh, so very __**nice **_lovemaking, lovemaking that _literally_ made Antonio and me _cry_ from the immense pleasure and loveliness of it all, that made us choke up and grab each other as firm as we could, that made me feel sooooo damn _good…_

…I woke up.

It was still quite dark outside and I guess it must have been extremely early in the morning, since my clock said so.

…

It's pure fucking _logic_.

Because really, if you can't believe your own tomato-shaped clock, than what's left to believe in this world?

…

Anyway…

As I drowsily tossed and turned in bed with once again closed eyes, sighing and faintly wondering what could have woken me up this early, I felt Antonio was moving around as well, but a lot more, almost as if he had been awake for a while already and had just crawled back into bed.

I also felt his warm body was much farther away from me than I _wanted_ it to be (well, no _shit _if he had been out of bed earlier), so I frowned and very sneakily decided to wait until the bastard was falling asleep again – because that way, I could… you know, _casually~_ slide against him without waking him up and getting the gushy compliments about how damn cute I was, aww, awwww, Lovi wants a hug, etc.

But sadly, Antonio didn't give my brilliant sliding-plans a chance, since the first things he did after lying down was scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me, breathing in blissfully when he pressed my slowly-getting-hotter face to his chest and stroke my back.

'Back again, Lovi…'

…

F-felt nice, felt very, very nice, felt like I was being embraced with l-l-love and all that… corny kind of shit… d-dammit…

Now, I…

I _could_ have… just embraced him right back, ignoring that weird little extremely-early-in-the-morning-stroll of his (he just admitted it _himself_ he had done that, saying "back again") and focusing more on falling asleep while lying in his arms like this, simply because I _wanted_ to, but…

…well, I also wanted to know what he had been doing.

So before too long, even before Antonio had the opportunity to hold me the way he wanted to hold me and could doze off, I softly pinched his nose, staring up at him sleepily.

'…nowwhatdidyoujustdodammit…'

'You're awake?' Antonio whispered, surprised.

'…ohhhI'm_extremely_awake…'

'Aww, and I thought I was being quiet…'

He sighed, but then smiled at me, pulled back one of his hands and tilted my chin up a bit, kissing me softly.

The kiss caused me to sigh and smile as well, but it was okay, it was still too dark to be able to observe minor details like that fucking goofy smile of mine anyway.

'…what…' I started in a drowsy voice, slipping my hands behind his back as I forced back a yawn, '…what… what were you doing, hmm…'

Antonio ran a hand through my hair, chuckling.

'Ah, I had to go to the bathroom, Lovino – and when I came back, I remembered the carpet and I thought to myself, "well, since I'm awake, maybe I could clean it up already", so I did!~'

'Hmmm… that's… ew, that's fucking _disgusting_, Antonio…' I mumbled, rubbing my face into his chest since it was… well, _right_ _there _and… and beckoning me (yes, it _did_, I saw it myself, dammit).

He twirled some of my hair around his finger. 'Oh, but I really didn't want you to… _see _what I was doing. It would've been kind of embarrassing, ahaha…'

'…yeah, whatever. It doesn't matter, Antonio. You really didn't have to do that _this_ early in the morning, dammit…'

'You're wrong.' Antonio sounded very serious. 'I honestly _needed_ to do it. I really, _really _had to go to the bathroom.'

'I… wasn't talking about _tha_—'

'Ahh, I shouldn't have drunk so much water last night.'

'Water? You drank _water_?'

I slowly lifted my face and gave him a concerned look.

'…but you only drink water when you're nervous or worried about something.'

He was quiet for a minute.

Then he smiled and nodded.

'Ah, well, I _was, _Lovi.'

I frowned. 'About what? It can't be the whole proposal-thing, right? I mean, you _knew _I'd say yes. Right?'

'…'

'…_right_?'

'U-um.'

Antonio's face must have become very red, because I could almost feel the heat emitting from his cheeks. Also, he started fumbling with his fingers, lacing them together behind me while trying to avoid the gaze of my narrowed eyes.

I sighed. 'Antonio, for God's sake…'

'Y-you never know for _sure_!' he protested with a small pout, '…I-I mean… yeah, I thought you'd say yes, I thought you'd love to become… my husband, but… you… you could also have said no. It… it was a _possibility_.'

'It wasn't.' I shook my head and hugged him tightly, '…it _wasn't_, Antonio. Not for me.'

He swallowed something and returned the hug, placing his hands on my back.

'I-I know. Well, that's not true… I-I _should_ have known.'

'Hm-hm.'

'I'm sorry…'

'What are you apologizing for, dammit?'

'…ah, it's just… I'm not good at this…'

I huffed and grabbed his face, making it look at me.

'Antonio. Hey. Don't say that. You _are_ good at it. At relations and stuff. At making me feel loved and special. You're… you're _very _good at it, at _all_ of it. You just don't realize it yet.'

He gave me a weary, unsure look.

'Ah, I wonder why that is…'

'Because you're a fucking dense _bastard_, _that's _why.' I flicked his forehead.

'Ouch, Lovi!' He made a face.

'And also because… because…'

I took a deep breath and placed my hands on his shoulders, pulling myself up a bit before winding my arms around his neck and closing the distance between our faces,

'…y-you've had a tough life. I know all about it now. You fought a lot and you… you probably… for a long time, you probably had a lot of relations without knowing how to deal with the persons involved – including _yourself_. You probably… felt a lot of feelings, without realizing _what _you felt. You… you probably… lived your life… without having much to live for, to _really_ live for… '

The beautiful green eyes of the Spaniard were getting glossy, watery and… and really _sad_, actually. He pursed his quivering lips together tightly and let out a soft gasp, his hands sliding up my back to grasp my shoulders and nuzzle my neck.

'I-it's alright, you know? It's alright…' I muttered quietly, '…just… just you wait. Don't rush it. In time, you'll see just how _good_ you are. You'll see just how _beautiful_ your view on love and the world itself is. And… and you'll learn more about it. About love. I promise you you will. I'll… I'll teach you myself.'

Antonio sobbed and clutched my shoulders even firmer.

'…you'll be fine, darling.' I smiled weakly and closed my eyes, kissing his face. '…you'll be _more_ than fine.'

His desperate grip began to hurt me, but that was okay.

He _needed_ this. And if he needed this, I needed it as well.

…

Once again, it's pure fucking logic.

**XxX**

The second time I woke up that day, it was already…

…

…well, _late_.

Like… past 2 o'clock – thank you, great, tomato-shaped clock.

Oh. Yes.

That's _late_.

That's really, _really _late.

…

Dammit, almost my whole fucking day had been _snored _away. _Again_. That's just my luck.

But what was even worse: once again, I hadn't woken up on my own. No, I had woken up because of – what are the odds! – Antonio.

Not because he was _terrorizing_ the sheets again like he did a few hours earlier, but because he was on the phone, in the bathroom, taking _very _loudly, since that annoying asshole just doesn't know how to keep his voice down when talking on the phone.

I groaned, irritated, and sat up, scratching the back of my head and yawing _extremely_ inelegantly when Antonio decided to walk back into the room – causing me to stop yawning halfway and almost _fucking dislocate _my jaw.

'OW! F-fucking hell…' I whined, rubbing the side of my face while ignoring the confused look Antonio gave me.

I wanted to greet him with a fresh scowl that maybe wasn't a very convincing scowl but _still _a scowl no matter how much it looked like something that could resemble a smile and a mumbling, stuttering "good morning", but when I looked at him, I noticed he was still on the phone.

And he was only wearing some pants and a towel around his shoulders.

Ooh.

…

I flushed a bit, which was ridiculous, 'cause _really_, I had seen so much more of him than just his… v-very appealing, v-very impressive, very… s-shiny… torso… with water dripping right off him… and…

…wait, was that drool on my arm? Was I fucking _drooling _again?

'Ah, could you… just a minute.'

Antonio put his hand on the phone and gave me a beaming_, burning, __**tearing **__**right **__**through **__**the **__**motherfucking sun and stars and massive metal and England's unedible scones too **_smile.

'Good morning, Lovino…~'

'Uh.' I said in response, hastily clearing my throat when I realized I had said "uh", _"uh_", for crying out loud, and tried to greet him again.

'Hi. I-I mean… hi. N-no, I mean… hello. G-good morning, Antonio. Yeah, t-the last one.'

He chuckled and gave me another smile, this one luckily not as killing as the former one, and continued his conversation on the phone.

'…here I am again!~ Hi! Hm?... Oh no, just had to say "good morning" to Lovino… yes, he just woke up! Now, what were you saying…?'

I blinked, wondering for a short moment who he could be talking to, before shrugging and getting out of bed. Whatever – I needed a shower right now.

'…hmm… oh yes, he's naked! Butt-naked!~ Why?' Antonio said.

I snapped my head up and looked at the Spaniard in _shock._

SHIT.

OH NO.

DON'T TELL ME IT'S HIM.

Meanwhile, Antonio frowned as the oblivious bastard he was and carried on.

'…you want me to do _what_ to his _what _now?'

IT'S HIM ALRIGHT.

'Lovino?'

Antonio looked away from his phone again, kept _staring_ lovingly (_lovingly_ – what the _hell_) at _something _between my legs for a minute, and then snapped out of it, pointing at his phone.

'Francis congratulates us for getting engaged!... on his own, unusual way, involving a lot of sextoys and you dressed like a pink, transsexual whore for some reason, but still!~ Isn't that nice!'

'Oh, it _is _nice. _Very_ nice.' I said, biting the insides of my cheek to prevent myself from yelling, '…naturally, it's not as nice that French fucking fuckface throwing himself off a huge-ass building and dying slowly and painfully in a pile of horseshit with twenty razor-sharp arrows stuck in his hole, but still… _nice_.'

'Lovi says thank you!~'

'Wha- Like _hell _Lovi did!'

Antonio pretended he didn't hear me and looked up, to the ceiling.

'What we're going to do with the catering for the wedding? Um… oh, I don't know… I guess we—'

He walked out of the bedroom before I could hear his answer – that's right, aside from talking really loud, the Spanish moron also couldn't stand _still _for just _one _freaking _second_ when he was _derping_ on the telephone – and I let out a deep sigh. God, I was barely awake, and my day had already been on the verge of madness…

…

…but it seemed like Antonio's mood had improved a lot, especially in comparison with what he had looked like a few hours earlier. I mean, his eyes weren't dull and misty anymore and he _certainly _knew how to smile again: bastard had nearly _blinded _me earlier.

But that was good. Yup, very good.

I smiled contently and turned around, walking to the bathroom.

**xXx**

As much as Antonio loved to think about his life, troubles, thoughts, _biiiiig_ juicy tomatoes and a lot of random, stupid things that aren't worth mentioning while taking a bath, I… well,_ I_ actually loved to muse about all of that as _well_.

But not while taking a bath, since I almost never took baths (u-unless Antonio – sexily – suggested I should take one with him, but that didn't count).

No, I preferred taking _showers_. Yup. There was nothing that could beat a nice, good ol' shower.

Probably because sitting was rather painful for me after having yet another night full of s—

…

B-but MOSTLY because taking baths was for women, small children and_ over-the-top _gay people ( the _Feliciano meets Poland vs. Britannia Angel-England _–kind of gay people) _only_!

Yes!

_T__hat's_ the real reason!

REAL men took SHOWERS. No baths – SHOWERS. Since showers were so very _manly_ and _cool_ and _come on_, did you _ever_ see a commercial with a guy taking a _bath_ while trying to convince his stupid, potential customers to buy a crappy, let's say, _sponge_? That's just too _gay_. It's _gay _beyond fucking _words_.

For some reason, I thought it was very important information to know, so I once even told _Antonio_ how _gay _it was to take baths instead of kick-ass showers.

He had stared at me really sheepishly.

'…um… but Lovi, even _if_ that strange theory of yours makes any sense, I… _am _gay.'

I had sputtered in response: 'Yes, b-but you're a _different _kind of gay! You're not… over-the-top gay, you're a _manly _gay! So _fuck_ wussy baths and that rubber duck of yours – don't you shake your head at me like that, I've already seen that thing you call _Señor_ _Patito_ – and just take a shower already! Like the _man_ you are!'

…

Although Antonio had been very complimented ("Ah, you think I'm _manly!~_"), it hadn't make him change his way of bathing/throw away _Señor Patito_. But that was fine, I actually hadn't even _expected_ him to do so, I had just wanted to have an excuse, _any _excuse, to call him manly without blushing my face off.

…

That's right, this whole conversation hadn't even been about bathing being faggy in the _first_ place (even though I really thought bathing was faggy). I… had just wanted to say something sweet to Antonio.

…

Beating around the bush and confusing others while doing so.

I had made an actual form of motherfucking _art _of it.

YES.

_Ugh_.

…

Anyway…

I still preferred showering to bathing – not only because of the aforementioned reasons, but also because it was _easier_ to think about my life while taking a shower: the sound of the water hitting my skin and the hard bathtub was very soothing for me – I just couldn't stand too much silence whenever I was thinking about myself.

Don't ask me why – it probably has got something to do with my ego. Probably. I'm not sure, though.

So even today, as I was taking a shower and trying not to giggle like a bitch when I noticed the big heart and the swirly "L" and "A" Antonio had drawn on the blurred mirror (…t-that was really sweet of hi—I mean, oh my _god, _what the _fuck, _Antonio,so much for _manliness_), I couldn't help my thoughts wandering off again.

Well.

Last night had been… well.

N-nice.

I blushed when I remembered, _vividly _remembered, the sex of the night before and patted my face in a weak attempt to get rid of the steamy blush.

Oh, it had been _good_.

Sweet. Romantic. Loving. Shit like that. Definitely… definitely worthy to be called a night I would always remember as the wonderful night Antonio and I got engaged.

I had loved it. Really, _really_ loved it. Antonio always knew what he was doing when he made love to me, no matter how insecure he was about… love and all. He just unconsciously knew _all_ about it. It was in his blood. His movements. It was in everything he _did_. Having an experienced, loving lover like him was a _blessing_, oh yes…

So why…

Why did I bother trying to top him?

…

…

Yes. I had been thinking about it for a while now, but…

…really, why should I continue trying to top Antonio?

Sure, I wanted to experience it, and the mere thought of me topping him didn't leave me alone whenever we were in the mood and he was giving me tons and tons and _tons _of opportunities to dominate the hell out of him (seriously, if I didn't know him better, I'd say he was doing it on purpose), but…

…

…well, I just never _did_ it. I didn't even _try_.

Something with my Italian _pride_. Something with being _unsure_. And, naturally, something with having really _awful_ advisors in the form of Antonio's former "toppers", AKA a perverted Frenchman, a creepy Prussian/German, a spiteful Dutchman, a sexless Austrian, an uncaring Russian and a sadistic Englishman.

…

Yeah. _Those_ miracle workers had been my _mentors_, alright.

Shit, no fucking _wonder _I was failing time after time.

There was still one mentor left to visit, one more nutjob to go, and that was Hungary. _Hungary_.

A _female_.

A fucking _female_.

…

God, why didn't I just _give_ _up _already and have peace with my bottoming position?

I mean, it… it wasn't like I didn't _want_ to be bottom, after all. I'd never admit it out loud, but I _liked_ being bottom. If being bottom meant that you were held, and loved, and caressed, and worshipped like that by the person you love the most… well, then how the hell am I supposed to _hate _it?

Especially… especially if it was _Antonio _who topped me. It _had _to be him. It _always _had to be him.

…

I stared at a wet wall and frowned deeply, reaching a hand to the bath faucet.

Maybe it was time I made up my mind.

Maybe it was time I made a decision.

…

Yes.

**XxX**

When I opened the door and walked back into the bedroom looking all fresh and clean, wearing really simple jeans and an equally simple shirt (that's fucking _right_, even I, a total style-icon, happened to like to dress like I just didn't care every once in a while – which only made me look even _cooler_, of course), I saw that Antonio at some point must have gotten back in the room again, because there he was.

Standing in front of the largest window, the sunlight beaming down on him eagerly as he gave a soft push to the window to open it. Immediately, a gentle breeze blew into the room and toyed with his bouncy, dark curly hair and the opened, red dress shirt he was wearing.

…

I had said it before, I know I had, probably more than once, but _damn, _that man was a _god_.

A casual-dressed, bronze-skinned, most-of-the-time-happy-go-lucky _god_.

_Ohhh_.

I had to gulp down a huge lump in my throat when I gazed at him like that, feeling a delighted shiver running down my spine when I once again realized that that beautiful piece of Spanish art was mine, all mine, minemine_mine_, and I quietly approached him from behind.

I had this stupid, shy, _excited_ look on my face as I walked closer to him, but I instantly felt a bit disappointed when I noticed Antonio was _still _on the phone. Damn that social bastard.

But at least he wasn't talking to his fuckfaced friend anymore – I clearly heard him say "Canada" and "glad you worked it out with him, Gilbert", so that meant Prussia was claiming some Antonio-time now.

I pouted (the hell, he was _my _fiancé and that was _my _precious Antonio-time, you fucking albino-freak), but didn't let that minor setback get the best of me and continued sneaking up on the Spanish moron.

Obviously, he wasn't aware of me – what a _shock_, really – and just carried on chatting and laughing, until I suddenly leaped forwards and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to his broad ( and still somewhat moist) back.

Antonio gave a startled gasp and turned away from the phone, blinking confusedly when he saw me, staring back at him with an unsure, "shut-up-I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-either" –frown, arms firmly _locked_ around him.

'Lovi?' he asked.

'Wh-what?' I grumbled.

His green eyes lit up, as they _always_ lit up whenever I hugged/held him, and he opened his mouth to say something. Too bad he was interrupted by the annoyingly loud and raspy voice of a certain Prussian, who I was going to kill off later.

'_Yo! Anton! You still there, man? Hey, don't you dare ignoring me! I'm too __**awesome **__to be ignor—'_

Antonio slowly turned back to his phone again, breathing in.

'…could you give me a second, Gilbert?'

'_Huh? Why, what's going o—'_

'Great!~ I'm glad you understand.'

He then immediately moved the phone away from his face again and looked at me with a bright smile.

'…so what are you doing, my lovely love?~'

I just eyed him with this weird, flabbergasted look on my face, trying to find the right words.

'Um.' I finally muttered quietly, '…I… um…'

…

A: _I'm trying to strangle your waist/fling you out of the window/headbutt you, you hot, half-naked bastard! _

B: _I saw something on your back. It looked like a spider. A dangerous one! So I scared it away! With my... lips! I fucking saved your __**life**__, you sexy piece of ass! Better show me some appreciation!_

C: _I tripped. What, can't a guy trip when he feels like tripping?_

D: _I-_

'…j-just wanted to hug you, Antonio…'

…

I heard myself say it, even before I had heard _all_ of the possible answers my strange mind had provided me of, and I swore under my breath, too embarrassed to look up to him, hiding my face behind his back.

Antonio didn't say much to that.

However, he _did_ get this charmed, dreamy expression on his face and he smoothly wrapped one of his arms around me, his hand resting on the small of my back when he pulled me closer, and closer, and closer, until my hands and arms were pinned between his and my chests.

Seconds later, he kissed me, kissed me _deeply_, and I felt myself go limp _instantly_.

…

It… it must have looked kind of wussy. I mean, Antonio was practically _dipping _me, with just _one _friggin' arm, while the other one (well – the other _hand_, not the _arm_, actually) was still holding on to that damn cell phone of his.

I opened my eyes a bit to… t-to look at him kissing me, really (because I thought that was _hot_, I honestly thought there weren't many things hotter than watching his feverish expression when he kissed and hugged the _crap _outta me), and felt my breath hitch in my throat when my eyes met his half-lidded ones, looking at me with so much _love_ that I was thankful for the fact he was holding me so tightly with that one arm: my legs got pathetically wobbly and unsteady…

Which also could have been because of the dipping.

Probably not, but still. I-it _could_ be. It _was _a really awkward position I was standing in, after all…

When he eventually pulled away a bit – his lips were still hovering just above mine, really – he shut his eyes and rubbed our foreheads together, breathing in.

'Ah, you're so _lovely_, Lovi… and don't you smell _nice_… so nice, so sweet… just like you _are_, my beautiful fiancé…'

'You…' I started, trying to focus and keep myself from shuddering upon seeing his shining eyes and feeling that perverted hand of his, teasingly splayed itself on the lower part of my back,

'…y-you are, too, Antonio… n-nice, sweet and beautiful. And more stupid… s-s-stupid shit like that… o-or something… d-dammit…'

His hand stilled and his eyes widened. Then his playful grin made room for a gentler smile, and he gave me a soft peck on my lips.

'Lovi… I—'

'How… how are you, by the way?' I cut him off, raising one eyebrow as I eyed – and touched – him carefully, '…are you okay? Are you… you know… feeling better?'

Antonio knew what I was talking about and blushed, nodding and giving me a light squeeze.

'Y-yeah. I'm feeling better.'

'G-good…' I mumbled, shifting my hands to clumsily put them around his neck, '…I… I already thought you felt better, b-but still. I wanted to make sure. 'Cause just leave it to a moron like you to create a storm in a glass of water, dammit.'

Antonio smiled amusedly and kissed me a few times. Happy, innocent kisses, kisses that almost made me burst out chuckling, but thank god I managed to control myself – _and_ my _face_.

'Oh, so _poetic, _Lovi!~ So very poetic!'

I rolled my eyes and wanted to turn away from his cute kisses, when… when the last kiss proved itself to be not as "cute" as the rest, since it involved a hot, wet tongue that arrogantly invited itself into my mouth and slipped past my lips, its slow movements dazzling me as Antonio kissed me more passionately again.

'It turns me on, you know…' he informed me with a low grunt in between two kisses, '…you, using that wonderful voice of yours to tell me _poetry_… _god, _it's almost as breathtaking as when you use that same voice to breathlessly scream out my name whenever I fuck you…~'

'T-the fuck are you saying, i-it's not poetry at a—' I gasped, right before my lips were locked with his again.

'To me it is…' he whispered to my mouth, '…oh, to me, it _is_. So much. So _much_, my love…'

I wanted to say something to him – I didn't even know what I wanted to say, but as long as it was something that made him even _more_ riled up, hell, I was _more_ than happy to open my yap – but was brutally interrupted when a certain annoying, buzzing kind of tone was suddenly getting much, _much _louder than before.

'_YO! ANTON! __**ANTON! **__Hey, I don't want to rain on your fuck-parade or anything, but FYI, I can hear almost EVERYTHING you and that Italian turdface of yours are doing!'_

Antonio pulled away from me with an annoyed expression that was making me nervous as well as excited – oh _god_, the way he _scowled_… holy_ SHIT_ – but never let me go out of his grasp.

'So?' he growled to Prussia while he effortlessly undid the buttons of my pants, '…what's your point, hmm?'

'_What's my point? It's __**AWESOME**__!' _Prussia cackled, _'…by the __**awesomeness**__ of the Great Berlin Wall, I'll write down some notes for my and Mattie's __**awesome **__Make-Up-Sex-Night right away! Wait a sec… AH! Okay, I've got an __**awesome**__ pen and some __**awesome **__paper! Fire away, Anton! Just make sure you tell me everything you do to Romano! Kesekesekese…'_

…

…

Antonio and I stared at the phone, pausing in _everything_ we were doing.

Then the Spaniard glanced at me, giving me a questioning look. The "if-you're-up-for-it-then-I'm-up-for-it~" –look.

…

WHAT.

NO FUCKING _WAY_.

'Hang up. Hang up _right now_ or I'll make you regret the day you were _born._ ' I hissed, _crack-_ing my knuckles.

After hearing that, Antonio paled, _immediately_ stopped groping me and abruptly chucked his cell phone _out of the window_ (wow – déjà vu).

Just like that. _Woooosh_.

'Sorry about that, Lovi,' he apologized right after, ignoring the sound of his phone, _crashing_ _down_ on the boulders down his House, '…I guess I got a bit too excited, ahahaha!~ But really, he could learn a _lot _from us, don't you agree?'

'Yes, b-but still, t-that's no excuse to let him hear us _do _stuff…' I winced a bit from the thought. '…g-god, I'd never let anyone hear us getting… _intimate_…'

'Intimate, you say…' Antonio smiled weakly and quickly kissed my cheek. '…ah, you're right. It's none of his or anyone's business. Not when it's a matter of love. I'll try to remember that.'

'_Please_ do.'

'It's… it's one of those love-lesson you told me about, right?'

I blushed, but nodded.

'T-that's right.'

He smiled.

'Then I'll definitely remember.'

'…b-by the way, Antonio…' I stammered, still hanging rather weirdly in the Spaniard's arm, '…did you _really_ had to throw out your cell phone like that? You could've, well, _hung up_, you know…'

'What do you mea— _Oh_. Yes. That would have been better, yes…' Antonio grinned uneasily and looked over his shoulder, '…ah, that reminds me: Gilbert. You think he'll get mad at me for… um, flinging him out of the window?'

'I don't give a damn about that perverted albino, Antonio, b-but…' I muttered, taking his face into my hands and slowly turning it back to me, '…i-if… if you're not… going to… f-finish what you started, I… I WILL be mad at you… b-bastard…'

He let me pull his face closer and sighed blissfully when I pressed our lips together, _finally_ also wrapping his other arm around me now that there was no hindrance to prevent that from happening.

'Ah, you're in the mood today, aren't you, Lovino…~'

'It's… it's _your_ fucking fault, d-dammit…' I murmured huskily, '…y-your… your fault, not mine…'

'Ah, well, in that case, please allow me to take responsibility…' He bit my neck softly, but bit down a bit harder when he heard an encouraging moan coming from me.

'A-_ah_… Y-you _have _to take responsibility, A-Antonio…'

'…really now…'

'Y-yes. You have to. _Always_, from now on, just like you always had. Because I… I…'

'Hmmn…?~' Antonio looked at my flushed face with a curious smile.

I took a deep breath.

'…because I _give up_.'

**xXx**

…

…

Um.

I had expected Antonio to be… well, maybe slightly confused, at most. I had also expected him to be too horny to pay attention to my cryptic message and that he would just… _hurl_ me on the bed and have some nice afternoon-sex with me.

…

But he wasn't slightly confused.

He wasn't confused at _all_, even.

He actually looked more _shocked _than anything else, really.

…

What the hell?

I looked at his frozen posture with a frown and had to hold on to him firmer since I would slowly but surely slide out of his arms otherwise.

'H-hey!' I said, snapping my fingers in front of his unblinking eyes, '…what the fuck are you doing? Y-you're supposed to… t-to feel me up and… and lace our fingers together now, dammit!'

Antonio seemed to wake up from his temporary mindlessness with a slight _jolt_, eyeing me worriedly – but still quick to obey me, hastily intertwining one of our hands together and sneaking a hand up my shirt.

'There you go. Better?'

He pushed against a nipple and as always, I jumped and shrieked from the touch.

Still, my face fell.

'W-well, yeah, it's better, I guess…' I hesitated, '…but only if… if you _wanted_ to touch me, dammit, not because I _told _you to touch me.'

Antonio tried to smile reassuring. 'Oh _please_, Lovi. Of course I want to touch you. I always want to touch you. Here, let me twitch that cute little nipple of yours again to prove it.'

'Then why – _ah_, cut it out! – why are you looking so _gloomy_?'

Antonio's already unconvincing smile disappeared from his face and the hand underneath my clothing stopped flicking, sliding out of my shirt.

'Ah, it's just… you're _giving_ _up_, Lovi?' he then mumbled.

I felt my cheeks heat up.

'Y-yes. I'm not telling you _what, _thou—'

'I know you won't.' Antonio interrupted, sounding kind of… bored, actually, '…and that's okay, I suppose. It's frustrating, but I respect that. Ah, I even think it's quite _cute_ if you act all awkward about this silly little secret you have. But Lovi…'

'…what?' I asked, frowning.

'…even though I _obviously _don't have the _slightest idea _what you're talking about…' Antonio continued, '…I think you shouldn't give up. You should _never _give up. It's not in your nature to give up.'

'Not in my nature?' I repeated him with a snort, '…Antonio, I'm _Italian_. Of _course _I give up. Hell, it's already a miracle I even managed to believe in myself up to this point in the _first _place!'

'I believe in you as well.' Antonio said. He looked awfully serious.

And _hot_ as eve—

ANYWAY.

'Y-you believe in me?' I stuttered, watching how his free hand took my own free hand and clutched it, '…o-oh god, Antonio, y-you're a sweet bastard, but… hell, you don't even know what I'm talking about…'

He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, but then he changed his mind and closed it again.

'That's… yeah. That's right, yes…'

'But… but really…' I smiled at him gently and pressed a short kiss to his lips, '…it's… it's nothing you should feel bad about, really. It's just… something I've decided on my own. Based on personal experiences.'

'_Personal_ _experiences_, he says…' Antonio groaned, bowing and shaking his head.

I blinked. 'W-what's the matter?'

He looked up at me again.

'…what "personal experiences", Lovi? You can't call a personal experience a personal experience if you've never personally experienced the personal experience before, my love…'

I blinked again.

'Sorry, but you already lost me after the second "personal experience".'

'Ahh, aren't you _dense_, sweetie…' Antonio smiled sadly.

I grumbled. 'Hey, I'm not—'

Antonio didn't let me finish.

'Listen, Lovino, what I'm trying to say is… you should try it again. Whatever it is you've given up – try it _again_.'

I wanted to say no, but instead started to bit my lower lip.

'I don't know… I've tried it a lot of times… okay, that's a lie, maybe I haven't even tried it at _all_, heh… so…'

'Just this once.' Antonio pulled me closer, his green eyes almost _burning_, '…just… just try it one more time. You've got nothing to lose.'

'I _have_.' I murmured, trying to look away. '…t-the last miserable shreds of my self-confidence, d-dammi—'

'_Lovino_.'

Antonio grabbed my shoulders.

'Mark my words – you have _nothing_ to lose. _Nothing_. I _promise _you. Your self-confidence won't be damaged.'

'A-Antonio…' I looked at him in awe, not sure to blush at his words or to think he was one stupid simpleton, promising me the world, without knowing what the subject even _was_…

Still, I believed him – after all, I was a simpleton myself, too.

_Tch_. No wonder we made such a nice couple.

'Try it. Just one more time…' Antonio was almost _begging _now, '…try it _right_ _now_, Lovi.'

'R-right _now_?' I stammered, feeling I was beginning to sweat, '…y-you can't be serious! I-I-I can't do that!'

'Why not? This is a chance, Lovino! The perfect chance!' the Spaniard said, his voice full of enthusiasm, '…look around you: we're all alone, no one who can make fun of you, we're at a safe, familiar, _intimate _place…'

I wanted to think of some clever reasons to reject his plan, but the lame thing was I couldn't think of any clever reasons.

'Really, Lovino, what more do you need? _Me_?'

He chuckled and squeezed my hands.

'…well, I happen to be available. I'm at your service, sweetie… I _always_ am.'

…

I looked at his hands – _our _hands, and our rings. I just couldn't help myself, I had to look the small silver bands.

Then I looked up at him, my fiancé, my lovable, stupid, caring fiancé who _always _kept his promises.

Then I breathed in and out slowly, giving Antonio the smallest of smiles and the smallest of nods.

'You're right. Okay. I… I'll try it again. Just this once. Just because it's… it's _you_. But if I fail, I swear to _God_ I will—'

His eyes glistened mysteriously. 'You won't fail.'

'You don't know that for sure.'

'I do. I—'

'Shut up.'

I let go of his hands, grabbed his collar and pulled the surprised Spanish nation down with a hard yank, catching his lips in a _bruising _kiss that involved teeth, and tongues, and spit and…

…and _me_, actually taking over control.


	46. Rear II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Crisis? What crisis? Why, it seems like the entire world is going down – economically spoken, that is. The US, Europe, Africa, the Asian countries… they're all very "sick". Well, not __**all **__of them. Just take Europe. Italy, Spain, Ireland, Greece and Portugal are sick, but most Western nations of Europe are still "healthy" – my own nation's still quite healthy, for example. For __**now**__, that is.  
__Meanwhile, England's having a lot of problems with riots and the like. God. Awful, really.  
__Seriously, what the hell is up with the world lately? I'm beginning to think there's just no ending to the madness. Let's hope it'll all get better soon…_

_A/n2: I'd like to say that it's very touching just how much you all are rooting for Lovino._^^ _And really, why shouldn't you? The poor guy's been struggling with his desire to top Antonio for about… what, 45 chapters? About time he finally pushed that handsome bastard down! So I can fully understand the massive outburst of KYAAA!~ that I read back in my reviews last week. Oh yes. Go Lovi, indeed.  
_…  
_Now, let's see how far he gets…_

_A/n3: It's getting harder and harder, finding suitable butt-songs lately. That's __**horrible**__! If this keeps up, I'll be out of titles before you can say ass-tastic (as far as anybody'd want to say that)… so, if you have any tips/hints, please let me know…_

_A/n4: Hi Alyssa, hi Amy!_^^ _Not sure if you two got my anonymous message, so I'll tell you again here: I __**love**__ your site!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLVI:

_**Step to the Rear  
**__**(Brand Nubian**__**)**_

Okay, so… so let me get this straight…

I was kissing Antonio. _Roughly _kissing Antonio. Barely-giving-him-time-to-breath-kissing Antonio.

Yes. That was what I was doing right now.

AndI was even in control of it. I was in _**full, complete control **_of it.

…

Oh god.

That meant he _**wasn't **_in control of it.

That meant he _**wasn't **_the one who took initiative.

That meant he _**wasn't **_acting like how the "man" in a homosexual relation should act.

No.

But I… well, I _**was**_**. **

O-oh god.

For the very first time in my entire relationship with Antonio – and I'll be damned if that wasn't the longest wait I had _ever _had since getting hooked up with him, I mean, even waiting for my turn at the local Spanish bakery had been faster, really – the Spaniard was letting his guard down.

…

Oh _GOD_.

Ohgodohgodoh_god_.

It was true. I couldn't believe it, but it was true. I could feel it. I could even taste it during our current harsh, hasty, not-pleasant but also not-_un_pleasant kiss.

I… _**I**_ was in charge right now.

There wasn't much that flashed through my brain (except for a lot of explosions, some high-pitched buzzing and pink, fluffy butterflies of lov—_**dark, black sex-beetles**_) when I kissed Antonio and _kept _kissing him without _ever _letting _him _take over the role as the more dominating man, but I knew one thing for sure…

I… I was…

I…

…

Holy _shit_, I didn't know what the _**fuck **_I was doing!

As… as I was heavily _tongue-wrestling _with Antonio and clenching the fabric of his seductively opened dress shirt in between my clammy, shaking hands, I suddenly came to that shocking conclusion.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I really, really _really _didn't know what I was doing, d-dammit!

Right now, I was just… just trying to act as quickly (and maybe also as _hysterically_) as possible, probably because I was scared to death that the _minute _I'd weaken, the _second_ I'd hesitate, the _millisecond _I'd hold back, Antonio would take over. And I just knew, _I just __**knew**_ he'd have me underneath him in a heartbeat.

After all, Antonio had done this way more often. And… and Antonio knew all of my weak spots. All he had to do was run a finger up my curl, or breathe hotly into my ear, or nibble on my neck a bit too long, and _whoppa – _I'd dramatically toss myself on the bed, tearing my pants off my ass and begging him to please, _please oh god please Antonio just take me_ _already you fucking sex god~_

Yeah.

But I…

…

I… I _didn't_ know a lot weak spots of Antonio.

Yeah, he liked blowjobs. So _what_, _every_ sane man liked those. Maybe not as much as Antonio – hell, even _giving_ someonea blowjob made him climax, apparently – but still. It's no new information.

No, what I wanted to know was…

What… what made Antonio's knees quiver in restrained satisfaction? What made his face flush – sexually spoken – from delight? What should I do to make him vulnerable and _fuckable_? What did I have to touch, grab, lick and/or rub to make him cry out in pleasure?

…

I didn't know anything about that.

Hell, I didn't know _fuck_ about that.

Oh god. I swallowed some saliva, still continuing to feverishly kiss the Spaniard.

What an unsettling realization.

All this time, Antonio had been perfectly able to make me squirm and pant with as much as a smoldering _glance_, while _I_ didn't even know if he'd like or _dislike_ it if I'd… I-I don't know… t-tweak a nipple or something…

…

Maybe he'd hate it. Oh god. Maybe he'd absolutely _hate _it.

Or _worse_, maybe it'd make him burst out laughing. _Laughing_.

…

S-sweet mother of everything that's good and sexy, that'd be AWFUL. Me trying to be dominating and hot and _hurr_~, while Antonio, lying on his back, would be laughing his _fucking ass off_ because of my desperate search for his secret weaknesses.

I'd _fail._

I'd fail _so hard_.

I'd never, ever, _ever _be able to think of myself as a convincing _man _anymore if something like that would happen…

Antonio was beginning to make weird noises and tried to pull away, but I forcibly held him in place, even though it was getting hard for me to hold on to his clothing – sweaty palms, gross, _so gross_ sweaty palms…

Meanwhile, my mind was still panicking.

If I'd pull away, or if I'd let _him_ pull away, then the kissing part would be over. Then… then we should start with _another_ part. And sure, that could involve even more kissing, kissing was always good, after all, but… but _then _what? What should I do _after_ that?

Push him on the bed?

Roughly? Gently?

Take out his clothes?

What first? His shirt, or his pants?

What about socks? When did I had to get rid of _those_ things? I mean, there's nothing more destructive for good sex than keeping your _socks _on. Yuck. _Disgusting_. I _hate _socks. Socks destroy _everything_.

I tried to think about the wonderful "how-to-get-rid-of-annoying-clothes-very-sexually" -subject, but I was a bit distracted by Antonio's hands on my shoulders, which were persistently patting and squeezing me. I was also getting distracted by his muffled-but-increasingly-getting-louder groans and moans.

'H-hmmmmnf! Mngh! M-mmng…'

…

I got a bit… I don't know, _giddy,_ at first, because I thought I was doing a _great_ job at pleasing him – just hear him, he was obviously enjoying the ever-loving _crap_ out of my kisses full of Italian passion! – but when I was beginning to feel _extremely_ light in the head and lost my concentration, a miscalculation of teeth and tongues caused me to…

…well…

…_bite_ him.

P-pretty _hard_, too.

**xXx**

Antonio exclaimed an annoyed cry of pain that was partly swallowed by… w-well, _me_, before he pushed me away and clasped his hands in front of his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

'O-ouch, ouch, _s-shit_…'

I watched him with sensitive, bruised lips, breathing in and out raggedly as I was trying my best to think of something to say.

…

…but really, what _can _you say if you've just bitten the tongue of your lover and he was almost doing the _freaking jitterbug _out of sheer _pain_?

Nothing.

So I said… nothing.

After a minute (that seemed to last _forever_), Antonio finally opened his eyes again and slowly removed his hands, when he suddenly noticed me and the helpless look on my face. His own facial color paled a bit and he quickly grabbed me again.

'So… well…!~' he wheezed with a weird, thick-tongued accent, '…that was… interesting, Lovi!…'

'I-I bit your tongue…' I stammered weakly, '…I hurt you…'

'No! No… no no no no… you didn't!' Antonio blabbered.

I gave him an irritated look. 'What? How can you say that, you were practically _jumping_!'

'Um… yes, but… that was because I liked it!'

'…you _liked _it?'

'Yes!'

'So that frowning and _swearing_ you did was out of _enjoyment_?'

'Well… um, no, but… still, I was glad it happened, because you had probably smothered us otherwi… u-um… I mean…'

Antonio started to twiddle his fingers, avoiding my flustered face.

I spread my eyes open wide.

'I-I was _smothering _us?'

'N-no! No, Lovi, no!' Antonio snapped his head back to look at me, '…you weren't! W-well, maybe a _bit_, but… that was my fault, since I just… I never saw it coming! And I _should _have seen it coming, it's not like I'm the only person here who knows how to kiss, after all, and… I… you just… _surprised_ me a bit, Lovi, that's all!'

For a moment, I didn't know what to say and rubbed my arms sheepishly.

'Okay… um… s-so…'

The Spaniard looked a bit stunned when he saw me acting like a shy little girl, then smiled reassuring and leaned to me.

'Oh, but don't you worry – I _love it _when you kiss me, Lovino, I love it so much, even if you're almost killing the both of us in the process…'

Fuck.

I fisted my hands when he started pressing soft kisses to my cheek.

'Ah… don't you have the smoothest skin, my love…'

Fuck fuck fuck _fuck it was already happening dammit!_

I gulped, but didn't push him away, since I was a_ submissive motherfucking wuss_. Still, I knew I-I had to act fast if I wanted to stay in charge. I had to act really, _extremely _fast, before Antonio would _completely_ switch back to his role as sexy dominator again, before he'd sex me up again, before he…

'…oh- sorry, Lovino.'

…

…what?

I paused my small, mental meltdown-attack when I noticed the Spaniard, who looked quite hot and bothered, was quickly backing off all of a sudden, an apologetic, yet _lustful_ smile plastered on his face.

'A-ahahaha. Sorry, again. Didn't want to interrupt you, b-but you looked so _adorable _blushing and shuffling like that, I _really _had to do my best not to… um, never mind, it… it won't happen again, so…'

…

…

A very, _very _small alarm, installed somewhere in the deepest, _darkest_ corners of my mind, right next to my - there it was again - common sense, was beginning to ring persistently.

…

Huh… m-maybe I was putting too much thought into all of this. Yes. That's it. I… I should just hurry up and try to grab him again, now that he had willingly let go of me.

Wait.

He… had willingly let go of me. _Willingly_. _Very_ willingly. Even though he usually didn't stop once he was getting turned on. Oh no – if he felt aroused, not even the heaviest of earthquakes and/or freshest of tomato-dishes could keep him from passionately undressing and _doing _me.

But now, he had just… _stopped_.

Strange… it was almost… almost as if he _knew. _Almost as if he was doing me a favo—

NO, Lovino, you're thinking too much again, you're just thinking way too much again, he's just letting his guard down because he's a stupid idiot and it's _your _job to take advantage of him like that!

Y-yes, yes, that's it! That's just the way it is!

O-okay!

I took a few deep breaths and smacked my cheeks to get focused again, before looking up to Antonio again and reaching out my hands to grab his shirt again…

…only to discover the Spanish fucker had just pulled out his shirt and was standing in front of me in all his glorious half-nudity.

…

…well _damn_.

'Wh-why did you… where's your…' I stammered, shamelessly _ogling _his chest and everything that hot torso of his had to offer, '…w-when did you-'

'Ah, who knows?~'

Antonio chuckled innocently, gently placing a hand under my chin to tilt it up.

'My face is up _here_, Lovi…~'

I blushed furiously when saw those _eyes_ and felt that… that _hand _of his, cupping my face like it was a precious treasure.

'I-I _know_ your face it up there, d-dammit…' I grumbled quietly, sighing a bit as I lifted up my hands and tenderly touched said face, for a minute _stupidly _forgetting about my goal, b-but whatever, _whatever_...

Antonio flushed, let out a shivering hiss, nervously licked his lips and I knew for sure, no, I even _swore _he was going to smash our mouths together and ruin all of my topping plans, but…

He then hastily let go of me again.

'Oh, s-sorry, Lovi, sorry, sorry…'

...

This was getting ridiculous. _Too _ridiculous.

...

I should confront him.

'W-why the hell are you apologizing?' I started with a scowl, watching him trying to cool himself down, '…why didn't you just kiss me? I saw you _wanted_ to kiss me, so why didn't you just… _do _it?'

The Spaniard winced.

'…u-um…'

'_Well_?' I insisted, approaching him.

Antonio was silent for a moment, but then the panicky look in his eyes changed into a more neutral one.

'Why didn't _you_, Lovino?'

Now it was my turn to wince.

'W-well, be… because it was _obvious _you wanted to do it…' I muttered, knowing how lame of an excuse that was.

'Oh, so? I wanted _you _to do it, though.' Antonio said.

'Why! W-why is that!'

He hesitated.

'Antonio…' I warned.

'…because…' Antonio finally said, taking my hands in his, '…that's… that's what you want, Lovi. You want to lead. Right?'

I opened my mouth. Then I closed it again.

He smiled friendly.

'Go ahead then, Lovi. Lead. Lead all you want. I'll be happy to follow, my love, especially because you've put so much effort in this… But please, stop making those cute, lovestruck faces… _please_. I just… it's _really _hard to keep myself from jumping you if you do that…'

'So you _do _know.' I breathed. 'About me, wanting to top you.'

'Y-yes. I know.' Antonio broke contact with my eyes. '…and… and I've known for… quite a while now, Lovi.'

I cursed.

'Fuck. W-who… when… how…'

'Hungary. When you went to Austria. She told me on the phone.'

'Oh.' I stared at the carpet.

Antonio sighed, rubbing his thumbs over my hands.

'Lovi… I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I just thought… I thought you'd stop trying if I told you I knew. I know how prideful you are and I… I was afraid you'd never even _think_ about to topping me anymore if I told you…'

'Well.' I cleared my throat. '…you were _right_ about that. Because… that's _indeed_ the case. It's… it's fucking _embarrassing. _You _shouldn't_ know about my topping-plans, Antonio. It was supposed to be… I-I don't know, some sort of… unsuspected _surprise_. Now everything's… _ugh_.'

'Lovino…' Antonio looked at me worriedly.

'Don't interrupt me.' I gave the Spaniard a frowning glare, '…y-you see… I was hoping… to unexpectedly _overwhelm_ you with my fucking hot dominant sexiness, but… but I just realized – I _really _just realized – that's… just not the way I roll.'

'That's not true! You can be as hot and dominant and sexy as you want to be, Lovi! I know you can! I'm sure you can be just as menacing as me! I—' Antonio stammered, but his voice died a bit when he saw I shook my head determinedly.

'Oh, cut the _crap_. There's no way I can act as dominant as you – hell, did you even pay attention a few minutes ago? You had to fucking _restrain _yourself from _pouching_ me! And I… god, I wasn't even _fighting_ it! That's… that's just the thing you _do_, Antonio. You're seductive and passionate and you push all the right buttons. That's a fucking quality of yours. A _talent_.'

I sighed, and then I sighed again.

'I…I'm not like _you_, Antonio. I can't… do the things _you_ do. Maybe because I lack experience, maybe because I'm just too insecure about myself, but… no. I can't. I just can't top like that. I'll _suck_. And _you_…'

I pointed at the quiet Spanish man in front of me, which was difficult to do if your hands were captured by two other, stronger hands, but not _impossible_,

'…you are a fucking _lousy_ _bottom_!'

Antonio blinked, startled.

'I am?'

'You fucking bet you are, dammit!' I rolled my eyes. '…sheesh, Antonio, do you even _know_ how to act as a bottom?'

'Um…' Antonio blinked some more, before a small smile appeared on his face. '…well, not sure if it's the same, but according to _some_ nations, I _do _know how to act like an ass!~'

I glanced at him sarcastically.

'…the shared opinion of all the South American countries, England and the Netherlands?'

'Yes!'

'Not what I mean, Antonio.'

'Close enough, though.'

'Not really.'

'No?'

'No, Antonio.'

'Ah.'

'Now, see what I mean?' I raised my face, '…even though you've been topped in bed by a lot of nations, it's not like you ever really _were _a bottom. You know _nothing _about it. You never _planned _or _prepared _yourself to be a bottom. You just… went with the flow. Like… "ohh, Russia wants to pound the hell out of my ass. Okay then, why not, let the man have his share of fun, whatever!~"… right?'

'Right…' Antonio seemed to get what I was going for and nodded, '…that's… that's right, Lovino. I never really thought about it like that, but it's just like you said, yes…'

I furrowed my brows and squeezed his hands.

'Now… now I just would like to know… _why_. Why you… got yourself topped so easily back then, and why you seem to have… _difficulties_ with it now. I-I mean… y-you love me, don't you?'

'More than anything in this world, Lovi.' Antonio answered immediately.

'Than why…' I hesitated, '…why… can't you… I mean, I'm… t-the one you love and all… and _fuck_, just _hear me talking_, like I really am unable to top you unless I friggin' _beg _for it...'

That comment made Antonio scowl.

'It's not like that, it's not like that at _all_! You don't _get it_, Lovino!'

I gave him an annoyed look. 'Wh-_what_!'

'It's _because _I love you that I… have difficulties with being your bottom, Lovi!'

'…w-why is that?'

His expression now saddened a bit.

'Lovino… like you said, I… never _really _was the bottom in a relationship, because… w-well, I never _had been _in a relationship before you and I started going out. I never… experienced _love_making before – hadn't I already told you that? – and so, I… I just don't _know_, Lovi. Just like you, I don't know what to do. I know you love to have me on top of you…'

An intense blush spread on my face. 'Th-that's…'

Antonio didn't even bother stop talking.

'…but do I have _any_ proof that you'll like me as a bottom as well?'

'No, you… you _don't_.' I answered, silently wondering why the fuck I had called him a lousy bottom earlier – yeah, that had been _helpful_, Lovino, you mean asshole, '…but… well, that doesn't mean… you shouldn't try it out… I mean, I love you and it's not like… I'll love you less if you suck at bottoming…'

'You won't?' Antonio asked quietly.

…

Oh, not _this _again…

God, I was beginning to feel _really_ tired and _really_ angry at him at the same time.

'Antonio, just _how_ _many_ _times_ do I have to state the _fucking obvious_ before you'll believe me – no, believe _in_ me, dammit?'

Antonio didn't even flinch and smiled calmly.

'Just as much until you'll believe in _me _as well, Lovino.'

'…what do you mean?'

'I believe you can top me, in spite of all your inexperience and insecurities. Because I love you. And you say you believe I can be your bottom, in spite of my own inexperience and insecurities. Because you love me, too. So, Lovi… sweet, sweet Lovi…'

Antonio pulled me closer and gave me a soft kiss, his lips lingering on mine for a while before he backed off again,

'…let prove to ourselves we're not lying, okay?'

'…h-_how_, dammit…' I mumbled, a bit confused because no matter how forcefully my proud Italian mind was trying to find an escape-option for me to get out of this, my own stupid _heart_ knew _better_, '…wh-what do you suggest?'

'Let's plan it.' Antonio suggested.

'Plan it?' I frowned and let his hands slip out of mine as Antonio walked to the bed and sat down.

'Yes yes, plan it!' His eyes sparkled and he patted to the empty spot next to him, '…come on, sit down, my love, it's a serious matter after all, we should think this through _very _carefully!'

'Is… is that so?' I said, obediently flopping down next to him.

'Of course.' Antonio smiled gently and touched the side of my face, '…it's going to be a _special_ happening. It's going to be a happening full of new things and delightful discoveries, a exciting happening full of tender pleasing and loving… right?'

I chuckled softly. 'Sounds like a regular sex-night to me, really…'

'Well, in many ways, it _will _be a regular… sex-night.' he agreed, scooting closer to me, '…only a little bit… _different_ than usual. Know what I mean?'

'I know what you mean.'

'Do you agree?'

'I… don't _dis_agree.' I mumbled with a weak huff. 'I-it sounds… good, really…'

'So… do you have a night in mind?' Antonio wrapped an arm around me and pushed me against him, '…_any_ night. Doesn't matter _what_ night. Or morning. Or afternoon.'

'I get to choose?' I asked, relaxing in that one arm of his.

'Naturally – after all, you'll be the one in control. Just the way you _want_ to be in control. Just the way you _want _to top me. Maybe it'll be nothing like I top you, but I bet…' He smiled at me and stroke up and down my back, '…I bet it'll be amazing nonetheless, sweetie.'

'S-stop saying embarrassing shit, d-dammit.' I smiled as well and quickly looked away from him, fidgeting with a button of my shirt, '…but… but how about doing it on our wedding night?'

'Our wedding night it is.' Antonio nodded.

I wanted to nod as well, but then I suddenly remembered something and I gasped, tugging on his arm.

'W-wait, wait – you said you had already planned something… s-something _really_ wonderful for our wedding night…'

'That's right.' he simply said.

I stared at him. My face was getting warmer and warmer with the second and I couldn't help but laugh a bit, clumsily poking his still very naked chest.

'…y-you damn bastard… p-planning to do _me_ on our wedding night as well, huh…'

'Well, what's more romantic than the both of us having huge ass-pains the morning after?'

'_Nothing_ can beat that.' I had to agree, holding back another laugh.

'That's what I thought.' Antonio grabbed the hand on his chest and swiftly kissed my fingers, his eyes locked with mine, '…so, it's a deal?'

'Y-yes. It's a deal…' I said, '…_but_…'

'But…?' Antonio stopped smooching my hand and gave a short, nervous chuckle, '…ah, I don't like that word…'

'You got to say a _lot_ in this matter, don't you think so? More than I had to say.' I snorted, unaffected by his pouting.

'So it's _not_ a deal?'

'Don't be stupid, of _course_ it's a deal – in case you missed it, I wholeheartedly agreed on everything you said, you moron.' I reminded him, '…and I don't like that at _all_. I _shouldn't _agree with you that easily.'

'Your Italian pride playing up again?' Antonio mused.

'Ohh yes.'

'Ah. That's... just lovely…' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. '…well then, what can I do to please your pride, hm?'

'Show me I'm in control.' I folded my arms.

He smiled, looking a bit relieved. 'Oh, okay! I'd _love_ to! But how, Lovi?'

'This… this will be the hardest thing I'll ever do, but Antonio, I forbid you, and me, and… well, the both of us, actually, to…' I took a deep breath, '…_have sex until our wedding night_.'

Antonio's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

'W-_what_?'

'That's right!' I said triumphant, even though I really didn't feel like I had something to feel triumphant about since I liked sex as much as he did, '…no more sex until the night of our wedding day has arrived, _period_!'

'But… but _why_, Lovi! Why would we _do _such a thing!' he whined, '…that's just _terrible_!'

'It is!'

'It's _loathsome_!'

'It is!'

'It's _un-Spanish_!'

'It's not very Italian, either!'

'I _hate_ not-having sex with you!'

'So do I! N-not-having sex with you, I mean.'

He cocked his head. 'Um… but Lovi… if the both of us dislike the idea of withholding sex until our wedding night _that much_, then… then why do we even bother _talking_ about it?'

I smirked evilly, since that's just the way I happened to smirk.

'Think about it, Antonio: if we're going to stop having sex until our wedding night, we know for _sure_ our wedding night's going to be _amazing_.'

Antonio's jaw dropped.

'_Genius_.'

'I know, right?' I grinned.

'It's… it's _brilliant_, Lovino, absolutely _brilliant_!' He gave me a affirmative _smack_ on the back, '…I mean, it's _horrible, _of course, my body isn't _made_ to be denied from sex, but indeed! Surely the wedding night will be even _more_ perfect now!'

'S-so you agree? And… and you think you can do it?' I asked.

As soon as the Spaniard heard the unsure tone in my voice, he stopped being loud and annoying and immediately calmed down, leaning towards me, his facial expression sweet and confirming.

'Of _course_, my love. It'll be hard, but I can do it. Besides…' He chuckled, '…it's not like I have much of a _choice _here, right?~ _You're_ the one in charge, my love… whatever you say, goes. Always_._'

'Always?' I muttered with a warm blush, moving myself closer to him as well.

'Always, my lovely Lovino. _Always_.' He smiled.

I stared at my hands, which were now resting on my lap, clutching my pants. The heat and warmth the blissful flush on my radiating face was sending out was beginning to get absurd, really.

'…y-you always say these things s-so nicely…' I hesitated.

'What things?'

'Kind things. S-sweet things. Things I… I want to hear. Things that… that make me feel like… I should try loving you a little bit… m-more…'

Fuck. I was seriously crumpling my pants now, dammit.

Antonio didn't answer me right away and I swallowed a gasp when his lips placed a hot, slightly wet kiss on the corner of my mouth.

'N-now…' he whispered with a stammer, '…w-what am I supposed to say to that, Lovi… what… what in the world am I supposed to react on _that_, you wonderful living being, you sweetheart, you…'

'I-I don't know, I'm not going to decide that for you…' I softly said, '…a-anyway, I think… I think I'm going to… t-to…'

Antonio lifted a hand and gently brushed some annoying strands of my hair out of my face, tilting my face up in the process.

'What are you going to do, Lovi… ah, tell me, my love…'

'K-kiss you…' I breathed with a sigh, 'I… I'm going to kiss you… b-but first…'

I gathered all of my somewhat restored courage, climbed on his lap, grabbed his shoulders and pushed the surprised Spanish man down on the mattress rather forcibly, panting softly when I looked down at him.

Antonio was also in- and exhaling a bit quicker than normal, and watched me intently with those big, caring eyes, eventually rewarding me with a small, admiring smile.

'You're looking so _handsome_ right now, Lovi…'

'I-I'm _not_, d-dammit…' I murmured, trying to pay no attention to my trembling arms that had pinned themselves next to both sides of Antonio's face as I lowered myself and carefully, very carefully, pressed my lips to his for a second.

He made a soft sound and winded his arms around my neck, pulling me closer.

…

It…

It was nice to know that… he was encouraging me so much. It was also good to know that he obviously loved this chaste, tender kiss a lot more than the bruising, suffocating one of earlier (well, no _shit_) and it was simply _fantastic _to know that he… that he _knew_. About my wishes. My desires. My fears.

It… it was such a _relief_.

Fuck my Italian pride – this hadn't got anything to do with him giving me permission.

This… this was a _mutual_ _understanding_.

And it was great.

And safe.

And wonderful.

And it was all thanks to him.

'T-thank you…' I stuttered to him, pulling back a bit to look at his somewhat flushed face, '…t-thank you so _much_, Antonio…'

'For… for what, Lovi…?' Antonio asked, slowly massaging the back of my neck, and got a bit panicky when he saw my eyes.

'L-Lovi, what's wrong? Why… why are you crying?'

'I-I'm _not_ f-fucking crying…'

I quickly let myself fall down on his body and hugged him tightly, resting my head on his chest.

'…I'm just… just thanking you. For… for being who you are.'

'Oh.' Antonio gulped – I heard.

'I-I love you, Antonio.'

'Ah, I love you too, Lovino… very much.'

'H-hmm.' I attempted to wipe my eyes off his chest, but only ended up nuzzling and kissing it.

His skin was so _salty_. I liked the taste. I liked it so much. So I even gave it a shy, testing lick.

'L-Lovi… _ah…_' Antonio's voice sounded a bit strained, '…Lovi… if you want to, you… you _can_, you know.'

'N-no, we… we're _saving_ it, d-dammit…' I huffed, '…I can control myself too, you know…'

'Okay.' Antonio smiled a bit broader and moved his arms lower, cuddling me back, '…okay, Lovi.'

I felt all kinds of smiles wanting to spread themselves on my face, but I stubbornly kept resisting them, letting out yet another deep, shuddering sigh as I relaxed and closed my eyes.

Everything was good, everything was so _good _now…

_**Ding-dong~! **_

…

…

My eyes snapped open again.

No.

NO.

_NO_.

'Was that the doorbell?' Antonio said, loosening his arms around me.

…fucking… fucking loosening his arms around me…

…

Oh _no_.

Like HELL I was allowing that fucking doorbell to get in between us, dammit!

I gripped Antonio firmer and tried to push him down again.

'G-get back down on the bed, y-you!'

He frowned and resisted my pushing hands _effortlessly_ – holy shit, almost forgot the bastard wasn't only as gorgeous, but also as _strong_ as a fucking god – by simply taking them in his own.

'But Lovi, someone's ringing the doorbell. We shouldn't let him or her wait!'

I made a face. 'B-but… Antonio, don't you want to… s-stay like this a little bit longer?'

Antonio looked at me. Then he smiled softly.

'Lovino… if that is what you want, sweetie, I'll—'

_**Ding-dong~!**_

_**Ding-dong~!**_

_**Diiiiiiiing-doooooong~!**_

'Hellooo? Helloooo? Romano, Spain? Anybody home?'

I let go of Antonio in pure _panic_.

GAH!

That… that voice. That calm, sophisticated, _deceivingly kind _voice…

'Oh _my_, did I come to visit too early, maybe?~' the feminine voice echoed through Antonio's halls, '…or did I come too late?~ Or did I, by chance… (increasingly heavier way of breathing)… come _exactly on time…?_~'

…

…

_Hungary_.

…

Well, fuck my life.


	47. Apple

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __I think I should apologize to some of my readers – lately, I've become pretty slow concerning replying to reviews on time... _OTL. _God, I'm so sorry for that. But I've been really busy: I'm redecorating my room, my friends wanted to go shopping with me (those evil bitches – no, just kidding _XDDDD_), it's almost time for school again (YAAARGH, NOOO)… so yeah, I tend to be… slow. And some of you know that very well, right, Bara? _^^;;; _S-sorry, so sorry for that…_

_A/n2: Talking about school – do you know that feeling when school's about to get started again? That awful, anxious, "I-really-don't-want-to-go-back-but-I-have-to" –feeling? I'm experiencing it now. And HATING it. Ugh. I wish it could be vacation forever, but my younger brother O. very wisely said to me that "it wouldn't be special anymore if it would be vacation forever". The brat had a point. I still called him a douchebag, though. _

_A/n3: BTW, I got a haircut. A huge one. I used to have brown, half-long, curly/frizzy hair, but now, it's… well, it's really short. _XDDDD _I look a bit like that girl from the anime-movie "The Girl That Leapt Through Time" now… not sure if that's a good or a bad thing… _

_A/n4: Yet another song I like listening to: "Smoking on the Balcony" by __Go Back to the Zoo – it's really energic, especially the intro/outro!_^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLVII:

_**Low – Apple Bottom Jeans  
**__**(Flo Rida**__**)**_

Another day, another insane bitch hollering through the keyhole.

_Ugh_.

This time, it apparently was Hungary's turn to ruin everything. Well, isn't that just fucking _wonderful_. Isn't that just everything I had always fucking _wanted_ to happen.

…

HELL NO.

…

Hm, but to be honest… I really didn't know how to feel or think about Hungary – the _personification_, that is, _not_ the actual _country_.

She was… well, I guess she was _alright_, most of the time.

You know. Caring, sweet, understanding, possibly one of the most mature and well-balanced nations in the world, intelligent, not unpleasant to look at…

That was all part of the _nicer_ side of Hungary.

But… there was also _another _side of Hungary. A… _darker_ side. A flat-out _creepy _side. A side I wanted to _sprint_ away from really fast everytime I saw it – _that_ kind of side.

I just… I _never_ knew what she was thinking. Never _ever_. And… and I'm not sure if I even really wanted to _know _what she was thinking about most of the time. I don't know, she just had a certain way of… _smiling_. And giggling. And breathing. And getting spontaneous nosebleeds – oh, don't get me started on the damn _nosebleeds_. She must have had a serious problem in her nose-blood-circulation or something, because for some reason, she always had a bloody nose whenever she spotted men.

…

Preferably two or more (the more the merrier) _homosexual_ men.

_Doing_ stuff.

With her _watching_ them.

And _grinning_.

And… and _videotaping_.

_Videotaping __**everything**_.

While_** nosebleeding.**_

…

O-oh, the _horror…_

S-she… she once even managed to blackmail Prussia into handing back some things he once stole from her a long time ago with a _very _disturbing, kinky and graphic porn-movie, which ultimately leaded to a very embarrassed Canada dumping his pale albino-creep-boyfriend and snarling all kind of mean and hurtful things to him and Hungary that sadly enough _nobody_ heard, because…

…well, I don't know.

…

Oh well, it didn't matter anymore anyway, since apparently, they had gotten back together again (no way I was _ever_ going to forget that disgusting phone call of that red-eyed bastard). Good for them, I suppose.

…

Anyway – Hungary. What I was trying to say about Hungary: she was one to _fear_.

So most of us (homosexual) countries _did _fear her. Hell, we feared the _crap _out of her. She was just so… _Hungary. And that _was a _lot _of Hungary to handle. That's why we all were unconsciously very much aware of the fact we had to _respect_ her and try not to make her mad. Because we _knew_ what kinds of _things _she could _do_ when being angered. And we also knew she had _connections_.

Japanese connections.

_**Japanese**._

…

It was a fucking_ OMEN of EVIL._

…

But, well, just guess _who_ wasn't aware of Witchy Hungary's Holy Evilness and even considered her a fairly good and close _friend_?

That's right! _Antonio_ did! Of _course_ he did! Just leave it to _him _to pick the most horrible friends one could ever choose!

Not only a fuckfaced, molesting Frenchman, a cackling, birdloving wannabe-German, a stern and boorish Austrian and a bean-spilling, cake-baking Belgian, but _also_ a crazily perverted Hungarian woman.

All were Antonio's friends. And _mental_.

Collect them all!

…

So yeah, anyway, right now, while I was trying to think of a few impressive ideas to get rid of Hungary – ideas that involved Hungary, a couple of tigers, a _very_ small cage and a one-way ticket to Uranus (pun not intended) – Antonio was actually getting _excited_.

Fucking _excited_. _What_.

'Ah! Heard that?' the Spaniard said, hopping off the bed and beaming a way too happy smile at me.

'Actually, _yes_,' I said, sitting up slowly with an ugly scowl on my face, '…that, Antonio, was the sound of hot sexiness, _brutally shot to death_.'

'Um—'

'With a fucking _Kalashnikov. _Since it's more _horrible _that way.'

Antonio gave me a weird look. Then his smile recovered – it _always _recovered – and he walked over to me, chucking.

'Ah… disappointed the mood was interrupted like this, aren't you?~'

'O-of course!' I huffed, '…I-I mean, I know we have a no-sex pact now and I know nothing would have happened anyway, but _why_! Dammit, I was looking forward to… just a normal day, with… with just the two of us, just you and me…'

I hesitated, but then slowly reached out my hands to wrap them around his waist, pressing my slightly warmer cheeks to his lower belly.

'J-just you and me, dammit… just you and me.'

Antonio let out a strange noise and swallowed a couple of times, before his hands landed on my shoulders and started massaging them. Massaging them _oh so fucking fantastically_. I might have even _moaned_. _Loudly – _and _deliberately._

Naturally, that only made Antonio even _more _aroused and riled up.

'L-Lovino… oh god, my love, you're so _sex_—'

'Rooooomaaaaanoooo, Spaaaaaaaaiiiiiiin?' Hungary's voice suddenly _waltzed _right through, popping the mood again like a needle popping a helpless balloon, '…are you home? If you are, please say something!~ I've got something for you!~'

Antonio looked in the direction of the door and was noticeably struggling between ignoring her and calling something back, when I decided to admit defeat.

'YES, we're HOME, DAMMIT!' I yelled back, and pushed Antonio away from me, '…we're home and _hating _you, you damn bitch…'

That last part wasn't yelled, of course, that was very carefully muttered.

'Shall I open the door?' Antonio suggested, watching me getting off the bed.

I looked at him and his naked chest. Then I resolutely shook my head.

'What, like _that_? Are you nuts? No _way_! She can't handle that much seething hotness without bleeding all over the floor and you _know_ how hard it is to get bloodstains out of marble tiles! No, you should focus on getting dressed – then I'll go open that fucking door.'

He nodded with an understanding smile, before blinking a bit in surprise.

'Did you just describe my body as "seething hotness", Lovi?'

'Um.'

I was getting sweaty again. _Damn _me and my stupid slips of the tongue!

He laughed. 'You _did_, didn't you?~'

'U-um…'

'Ahahaha… you love it, don't you Lovino?~ You _love_ my body. Maybe you should touch it a bit.'

Antonio grabbed one of my hands and pressed it down on his stomach, biting his lower lip seductively.

Now, I started to sputter. Especially when I saw something wet glistering on his chest – fuck, t-that was my saliva from earlier…

'I-I…no… you… um…'

'Hmmn, well, this is a good start… but it could become even _better_…' he purred and started to move… my hand… l-l-lower…

…

…

…

O-okay, enough of this, _enough_!

'I…I've got to open the door!' I stammered, jerking my hand loose, spinning around and making a fucking _dash _to get outside of the bedroom. My blood rushed to my face as I ran down the stairs and I even felt it rush and sough in/through my _ears_.

Holy _fuck!_

Holy _shit!_

That teasing _bastard!_

N-now I'm all aroused and shit! _Fuck!_

…

…

D-damn…

Looks… looks like Antonio wasn't the only one who had to keep himself under control, after all, dammit…

**xXx**

I opened the door with a somewhat wild _shwoop_.

…

Yeah! That's motherfucking _right_, I _shwooped _the damn wooden thing open like a… a… a professional… _doorshwooper_! I… I swung that door open like I wasn't hard and throbbing and aching for some passionate Antonio-loving at _all_, and you bet your fucking _face _I wasn't looking flustered and turned on in the _least _when I greeted the perverted woman on the doorstep with a throaty "good morning".

'Oh _my_. And a good morning it _is_.' the longhaired brunette said, her green eyes big and sparkling in silent joy as she let those scary orbs _scrape _over my wobbly, panting posture like a _lioness _would _scrape_ her eyes over a helpless gazelle.

I tried to catch my breath and shook my head.

'No… this is… not hwta uoy… I mean _what you_… think…'

'Oh, I _do_ wonder what you might mean, Romano!~' Hungary let out a gentle laugh, placed a hand on her face and tilted her head to the side, '…but you sure look… _hot and bothered_, dear…'

'Don't call me… that!...' I still wheezed, '…I… I just came—'

'DID you now...~' Hungary interrupted me, and _what the hell, _was she _panting_?

'Wha… NO! GOD no! Let me finish talking, woman!' I snarled right away with a somewhat hysterical tone in my voice as I slowly backed off, '…I… I came _running off the stairs_! THAT's why I'm… out of breath, dammit, not because of… o-of…'

Hungary smiled peacefully and waited.

Ohh, so _now_ she _did _want me to finish that sentence, didn't she?

I snorted and crossed my arms.

'…not because of _anything_ that could have _anything_ to do with Antonio, Hungary.'

Hungary's face fell a bit.

'Ah, I see… I see.'

I almost smirked. Ah, disappointments and anti_-_climaxes. Got to love them.

After inwardly celebrating my minor victory over _dissing_ Hungary with giving myself some well-deserved imaginative pats on my shoulders, I managed to pull a straight face and look at the Hungarian woman with a skeptical glare.

'So, Hungary. What are you doing here anyway?'

Before she could answer me, she was distracted by something – and I felt somebody approaching me and Hungary from behind

'Ah, good morning, Hungary!~'

I looked over my shoulder – and there was Antonio, grinning knowingly at me and finally wearing his shirt again.

BUT IT WAS OPEN.

Hungary saw it, too – naturally – and a small smile crept on her face.

'Why, this morning is only getting better and _better_, Spain…'

'What the _fuck_, Antonio!' I pretty much _screeched_, giving the stupidly staring Spaniard ("What's that coming out of your nose, Hungary?") a firm shove, '…don't flaunt your fucking abs in public!'

'My _what?_' Antonio asked, genuinely delighted.

'His _what?' _Hungary breathed, genuinely _perverted_.

'Oh, just… just _fuck_ the _both_ of you!' I blabbered with a hiss, blushing furiously as I pushed Antonio back into the House some more and ordered him to button up his damn dress shirt already before I would fucking _vandalize _him.

'But I want you to vandalize me.' Antonio said in response.

…

And a few seconds later, he was reluctantly bottoming up – I-I mean _buttoning up _his stupid shirt, but now with a slightly reddened, freshly-pinched nose and a pout.

'Lovi, that's not what I mea—'

'SHUT UP.' I growled, dragging myself back to a very _observant _Hungary (who had just finished stopping her nosebleed), '…I _know _what you meant, you seductive bastard, dammit…'

'Thank you!~'

Annoying Spanish asshole…

I wanted to snap at him again, but that would only make things worse – like I said before, he loved teasing me like this – so instead, I once again asked Hungary what in the name of subtext she was doing in Spain, _without _using the exact same words, because that, too, would only make things worse.

Hungary blinked with her eyes and smiled innocently – _innocently_, for God's sake, and she even managed to make it _believable _as well – at me.

'Ah, well, I'm here to deliver the presents, Romano!~'

'Presents?'

I eyed her oddly.

'…what do you mean, _presents_? What presents? And what _for_?'

Hungary's smile never faltered – hell, it even became _more present_, really, which was slightly disturbing.

'Why, I brought you the presents in celebration of your and Spain's engagement, of course!~'

…

My shoulders, my face and my entire being.

It all just… just _dropped down _a few inches as I stared at the Hungarian woman with an opened mouth and tried to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

'_What?_'

'It wasn't easy, you know?' Hungary continued, barely even paying attention to my flabbergasted exterior as she calmly walked inside, paused behind me and put her hands on my shoulders in a way that made me feel like being _fucking electrocuted_.

'W-what, Hungary, _what_ wasn't easy?' I squeaked, halfheartedly squirming in her grip as she slowly pushed me on my doorstep and pointed one scary, but well-manicured finger to the **giant truck **standing on Antonio's area, right next to the lawn and the pulverized gate.

Pulverized.

IT WAS PULVERIZED, DAMMIT.

'Well,' Hungary said, unaware of my shock, '…it took me a while before I found out just _when _Spain was going to propose to you. I mean, like the rest of the world, I already knew he was going to do that thanks to my good friend **Fem-Fem**, but I honestly didn't know how or when. However, when I called Spain some time ago, he DID mention something about "a very special Friday" and then I remembered the awfully big, full moon that would be showing on a very special Friday… and really, it wasn't hard anymore to figure out just what Spain's plan was after that.'

'So…' I said hoarsely, looking at the huge truck in the front garden with unbelieving eyes, '…so then you, even though you _still_ could have been wrong about Antonio's proposal, went around the world, telling everybody… they should give me and Antonio presents for our engagement?'

'That's right, dear, but I wouldn't say "around the world" – I only _kindly_ told the European nations and the northern half of America to _please_ get moving and get you something valuable – and preferably expensive!~'

I shivered. As if the world wasn't suffering _enough_ already these days.

'_**Why**_, Hungary?' I wanted to know, sounding a bit helpless.

'Why _not_?' Hungary chuckled and patted my head lovingly, '…Roma, don't you know? Spain is a good friend of mine, and you, well, you're just the _cutest thing _since twincest—I mean, kittens!~ No wonder I wanted to do something nice for the two of you! Besides, now that financial things are going very much downhill in both of your countries, I figured you could use some encouragements from the other nations…'

'E-encouragements?' I stammered, confusedly.

God. Now, I wasn't sure to feel _touched_ or just very _guilty_.

Hungary twisted me around until I faced her and beamed a friendly smile at me.

'Yes, dear – _encouragements_. In the form of presents for your engagement, from me and the other countries. Because we're all thinking of you two wonderful and sweet countries and we hope… with all of our hearts… that you'll recover just as beautifully as fat, flattened cockroaches do.'

'T-that's…' I swallowed some spontaneously welled up tears, but then realized to what creatures she had compared me and Antonio with, and glared at her.

'That's _sick_.'

She uttered a (fake) cry of surprise.

'Oh _my_, Roma! Why would you _think_ that? Just because I think cockroaches and you two have striking similarities, have blackmailed – I mean, _convinced_ all the other nations into buying you and Spain presents (hooray for the miracle that is internet~) and tricked –I mean, _asked_ them to leave the delivering to me because I was secretly hoping to be the witness of some passionate, homosexual lovemaking –oh dear, no, I mean to be the witness of… some platonic chess playing involving _**towers**__,_ a _lot_ of _**towers**_, _doesn't _mean I'm _sick_!'

'I… was thinking the _comparison _was sick. I wasn't thinking _you _were sick.' I informed her.

Hungary blinked. 'You weren't?'

'Oh no.' I shook my head a bit. 'You're not sick. You're just… just _wrong_. Wrong in _every_ sense of the word. And the _one_ person I hope _never_ to meet when I'm going out for a walk at night, _ever_, since you'd rape me. _Hard_.'

Hungary stared at me for a few seconds. Then she started laughing coyly.

'You're just so _adorable_, dear!~'

'You're not denying it.'

'I can understand why Spain's gushes so much about you, oh my, yes, I do!'

'You're _still _not denying it.'

'Aren't you a _doll_!~'

'Why aren't you fucking denying it?'

'Well! Anyway!' Hungary clapped her hands cheerfully and let go of me, '…why don't you go back inside and have a little _alone-time_ with your Spanish lovemachine, hmmm?~ Then I'll pick some random hot—I mean, _helpful _Spanish people off the streets here to help me bring all the presents inside the House.'

'Hungary, you're ju—' I started, but she cut me off before I could even finish my _fucking word_.

'Living room or any other room?' she asked.

'…what?'

'The presents.' Hungary frowned a bit. 'Do you want me to put them in Spain's living room or any other room? I really prefer the living room, though.'

I groaned. 'Look, I don't—'

'Living room, then?'

'Um—'

'Living room it is!~' Hungary smiled contently and gave a peck my on cheek.

'RAAH!' I gasped and grabbed my cheek as if it was set on _fire_.

'See you in the living room in a flash, dear!'

Hungary nodded at me, as if she was really agreeing with herself for some reason, and walked outside, out of the hall, never losing _any _of her undying elegance and grace.

And I…

…

…

Well…

I think I should… go to the living room, I guess…?

**xXx**

So a few minutes later, Antonio and I sat on the big, red couch of the living room.

…

Oh god. We looked like two fucking anxious patients in a waiting room of some scary dentist, only without expecting the dentist to show up. Oh, and without the creepy white walls and unsettling paintings – what _is_ that with dentists and haunting paintings, anyway? Also, no outdated magazines in sight, either. That was a good thing. I hated outdated magazines. Those were almost eviler than the paintings. I mean, what's the use of reading a _Donald Duck_ – I-I mean, _Men's Health_ that's older than two months?

Nothing! Nothing, dammit, absolutely _nothing_! Nothing at a—

'Ah, I'd like to know what Hungary is going to show us…' Antonio mused all of a sudden, looking up at the big, golden clock on the wall across the room curiously.

'Well…' I frowned, '…_presents, _Antonio. She's going to show us presents. I just told you. Apparently, she's got a truckload full of it.'

'Just because we're getting married?'

I thought about it.

'I'm… not _sure_, actually. Could be, of course, but it wouldn't surprise me if she used the presents-excuse in the hope she could… y-you know. Catch us in the act.'

Antonio turned to look at me. 'Catch us in the act?'

'Y-yes.' I started fumbling on some stupid tassel on a stupid, small, dark red cushion, '…as in… catch us in the act of… o-of having sex.'

'Lovemaking, Lovi.' Antonio corrected me with a soft smile.

'S-she's not as picky as _you_.' I snorted, glaring at the taller man, '…having sex, lovemaking, just downright _fucking_… it's all_ a-okay_ with Hungary, as long as she can watch it!'

'That's _mean_, Lovi!' Antonio said, '…you always say these things about Hungary, that she's a huge pervert and all, but come on, Lovi, how can you say that? She's so sweet!~ And kind! And she once even made a photo album full of… um, how did she call it… "memorable moments" between you and me that I'm allowed to read, but only "when the time is ripe".'

I stared at him persistently.

'_Burn it_.'

'U-um, I don't have it…' the Spaniard stammered, '…Hungary has! She said she'd like to "fill it with additional pics that have yet to come" first before giving it to me!'

'Oh my _god_.' I shivered, pulled up my legs and hugged myself tightly.

Antonio noticed my somewhat dramatic behavior and gave me a reassuring smile.

'Ah, you're overreacting, sweetie. I'm sure Hungary means well. After all, she's our friend!~'

'_Your _friend, _not_ mine.'

'She even brought us presents!~'

'Probably sextoys.'

'No no, probably something interesting and useful!'

'Like sextoys.'

'Lovino…' He sighed.

'What? I bet _she _thinks those are interesting and useful!'

'Well, let's be honest – they _are_.'

I shuddered. 'Shit, I _knew _you'd agree with her, I _knew _it!'

'Ah, Lovi… Lovi, Lovi…'

Antonio chuckled and lowered his hand, putting it on top of mine. I saw it was his ringed hand – apparently, I had developed a sixth sense when it came to noticing that thing – and felt my face once again turning red.

'W-what…' I muttered with a frown.

'Oh, I was just… wondering…'

Antonio's breath came closer to my face and I gulped.

'W-w-what were you wondering, d-dammit…'

'Have I buttoned my shirt right?'

…

Well, that was a turn-off.

My blush instantly weakened and I let out a deep sigh when I glanced to his sheepishly grinning face. Then I smiled a bit.

'Thank _god _you're cute.'

'I'm cute?' Antonio's eyes began to shine. 'Y-you think so?'

'I-I'm not going to repeat it, dammit…' I mumbled, '…now, come here and sit still, you dork.'

Antonio obeyed right away and I could feel his loving gaze on me as I observed his indeed _incredibly_ sloppy-buttoned dress shirt – what the _fuck_, had he managed to skip three buttons? _Three_?

'What is this shit!' I snapped, grabbing the lower part of his shirt and yanking on it, '…you forgot three buttons!'

'I did?' Antonio said, not caring at all.

'You bet your oblivious _ass_ you did!'

'Ah… sorry for that, Lovi.'

'Goddammit, just look at this mess… moron… can't even decently dress yourself without my help…'

Grumbling, I undid his shirt – a-and I wasn't feeling slightly excited at all when I did that, oh no, not in the least – and started all over again, from the bottom up.

…

It… it really had become awfully quiet in the living room as we sat there.

The ticking clock, my awkward fidgeting with the buttons and Antonio's unrushed way of breathing were the only things I could hear.

Just when I was silently asking myself what took Hungary and her hot/helpful Spaniards and presents so long, I felt Antonio winding his arms around me, his fingers touching my back. I made a soft, strangled noise as he pressed a couple of gentle kisses to my forehead, but didn't lose track of what I was doing, stubbornly continuing to button his shirt.

'D-don't distract me, dammit.' I huffed after feeling his lips on my face again.

'I'm not distracting you.' Antonio murmured, '…I'm just kissing you a bit.'

'H-hmnrrm…' I responded.

'Do you mind?'

'…'

'Lovi?'

I swallowed, now reaching his second to last button.

'If… if I'd answer to that, I'd lie.'

'Ah, well…' Antonio smiled, understanding what I was trying to say, carefully, _tenderly_ pushing me closer to his body, '…that's just—'

_Click__ – __**FLASH**__!~_

A bright flash lightened the room for a moment, effectively blinding me and Antonio.

'W-what the…' I stuttered, hastily letting go of Antonio's shirt.

'Oh _my_, that was _lovely_…' I heard a _certain _female's voice say in a frighteningly low tone, '…yes, that was so, _so_ cute…'

I swore and backed off even more from Antonio, pressing my back against the arm-rest of the couch, while Antonio himself looked mildly annoyed as well and turned to the Hungarian with a scowl.

'Was that _really _necessary, Hungary?'

'_Yes_.' Hungary looked him straight in the eyes, her own fierce and serious – and I realized the perverted woman actually _meant_ it. She _really_ thought it was necessary.

And that sure confused Antonio, who, judging by his fading scowl and tilted head, wasn't sure how to react to that.

'Ah. Um. Okay. If you say so…'

Thankfully, the weirdness of the whole "why-did-you-disturb-us" -situation was beginning to make much more sense when out of nowhere – well, out of the front door, probably, but still – a lot of Spaniards came walking in, all carrying… books.

Yes: _books_. Just books. Tons and tons of books.

All those strangers wandering around the house, putting down books and greeting me and Antonio - especially Antonio – with a cheerful _¡Hola!~, _forced us to sit normally on the couch, as if we hadn't been in some romantic situation at all, even though the Spaniards were probably very much aware of what was going on.

…

S-still.

I… I don't want to mess around with Antonio if there were others watching, dammit…

Anyway.

For a while, Antonio, Hungary – bitch had flopped on the couch, next to me, "_accidentally_"pushing me closer to Antonio while doing do – and I were blankly watching how the _mountain _of books in front of us only seemed to grow bigger and bigger, until a couple of men put down the last package that didn't look like a book at all, even though it was square. And shaped like it was long and high and it just didn't make sense if it turned out to be a book…

…

…

Maybe I should shut up.

**XxX**

After saying thank-you and good-bye to the friendly Spaniards, Hungary got up from the couch, turned around to face me and Antonio and spread her arms with a smile.

'Wonderful, right?~'

Antonio and I nodded obediently, before shuffling and trying to get a better look on the huge pile of books right behind her.

'Well… that sure are a lot of… books.' I said.

Antonio blinked. 'I don't think I've ever seen so much books before…'

'I mean, they're fucking _everywhere_.'

'…ah, I'm starting to feel uncomfortable…'

'Oh my, you two are so _silly_.' Hungary chortled, bent over and grabbed a few books off the floor, bringing them to the couch and placing them in between us.

'Just look at these books! Aren't they beautiful?'

'Yeah, sure…' I said, while Antonio picked a book off the heap and frowned at the card that was hanging from it, '…those are all very… nice books, I guess, and… and _of course_ we're really thankful for receiving so many… paperwork, but why _books_?'

'S-sorry, dear, what did you say?' Hungary said, looking away from a small, pink pocketbook with a flushed face.

…

Huh.

I raised an eyebrow, but decided to keep my comments on the pink book for myself.

'Um… anyway, why books, Hungary? Why did everybody give us books?' I asked again.

'Those letters are so _small_…' Antonio mumbled, squeezing his eyes almost shut as his eyes studied a page as good as he could.

'Ah! Well.' Hungary smiled a bit apologetic. '…that's probably my fault, I fear. I told the others they should give you presents, but _only _presents that could improve one's life greatly, _especially_ yours and Antonio's.'

'So they sent us… _books_.' I concluded, groaning. 'Great. Everybody thinks we're fucking _idiots_. That's really just _great_.'

Although they could be right, of course.

'I can't read this!' Antonio suddenly whined, '…it's so hard! It looks like Spanish, but secretly, it's a whole other language!'

'You're holding it upside down, dear.' Hungary commented.

…

They're right, alright.

'What the— you don't even know how to _hold_ a book, Antonio?' I said, staring at him.

'Ah, well…' Antonio chuckled nervously, quickly twisting the book, '…o-of course I know how to hold a book! But… it's been a while… I mean, you know I don't like reading… I like a comic every once in a while, but a book like _this_ one? Ahahaha… no, not really…'

He showed me the book. It was titled _"War and Peace"_ and it looked like a pain in the ass.

Just take a look at the _size _of that thing! You could _kill _with it!

'All the nations I've visited sent you the best books of the best authors of their country, and some even gave you something _extra_,' Hungary explained in the meantime, while I was boorishly flipping through a book titled _"Sense and Sensibility"_, '…so why don't you take a look for yourself, hm?~ Who knows, you might find some really good ones!'

'Yeah? Like the one _you're_ reading?' I said, pointing to the small book she was clutching so desperately in her hands.

Hungary only beamed a sweet smile at me in return and demonstratively turned away from me, biting her lower lip in excitement.

'Oh, if only you knew, Romano...~ Don't underestimate the quality of well-written… _romantique…_'

…

_That_ good, huh?

…

Dammit, now I was actually getting _curious_. Fuck it.

**XxX**

That afternoon, while picking up the books and sorting them, I found:

…a big book filled with famous and not-so-famous fairytales from Denmark (with _horrible _endings)…

…a _lot _of large, difficult and _disturbing _books from Russia…

…a couple of gross cookbooks from England – and a lot of other books from his country as well, since that thick-eyebrowed bastard had a lot of good writers, apparently…

…some books of the Netherlands, like one about a Jewish girl stuck behind a bookcase or something…

…a couple of impressive books and some Dutch-Spanish/Dutch-Italian and French-Spanish/French-Italian dictionaries from Belgium, which combinations made Hungary _smirk_ for some reason…

…some disgusting romance/sex/PORN ALL OVER -shit from France, that I was going to tear apart and flush through the toilet later – after Hungary had finished nosebleeding on them…

…also a lot of books about Italian art – that was nice of Feliciano…

…a huge, convenient bookcase from Sweden (so _that's_ what was in that square package) named _Billy_…

…and a lot of other books, books that I've either forgotten to name, or that are too _offensive_ to be named here (I'm _so_ going to fucking _murder_ America for sending us a fucking _coloring book_) or too… boring (sorry, Austria, but I just don't _care_ about Chopin or Austrian politics), or just _German_ (like _hell _I was going to read _anything _that potato-bastard had sent us).

…

At the end of the day, I got fed up with ordering all of the books and got up from the floor to move my stiff limbs a bit.

Ugh… better.

I looked around me and noticed Hungary was (still) reading smut – and having a _great _time while doing so, sitting/bleeding/panting against the new bookcase.

Meanwhile, Antonio was lying on his tummy on the floor, not far away from me.

And he was, _yes_, coloring in the coloringbook.

…

I'd have facepalmed at that, but it just was too easy.

Besides, like the Hungarian, the Spaniard was _also_ having a great time, his tongue sticking out of his mouth just a bit as he colored the picture of a huge tomato, his eyes strictly focused on the coloring picture.

…

Oh well, as long as he was enjoying himself…

I smiled faintly and sat down next to him.

'Having fun?'

'Oh yes!~ _Lots_ of fun!'

For the first time, Antonio looked away from the "book" and glanced up at me, grinning excitedly as he jabbed his finger on the paper.

'Look Lovi! I colored this tomato _red_!~'

'Holy shit, that's fucking _amazing_, Antonio, you goddamn _artist_.'

Antonio heard the sarcastic tone and studied my face, before giving me a much smaller and calmer smile.

'Ah, call me crazy or childish, Lovi, but… I've never done anything like this before in my youth.'

'You didn't?' I said, surprised. 'You mean you… never _played _when you were young?'

'I'm afraid not.' Antonio shook his head and sat upright, '…when I was still a small nation, stumbling around Europe in an oversized undershirt, I didn't have any time or opportunities to… you know, feel and act like a child.'

'That's… that's terrible. But… it sure explains a _lot_.' I muttered, watching his overjoyed face as he carefully ripped the now fully colored picture out of the coloring book.

'It does, doesn't it?' Antonio swiftly pushed his clumsily rolled up coloring picture into my hands, '…here! For you… but can you stick it on the refrigerator?~'

I laughed softly. 'You want me to stick it on the refrigerator? _Damn_, Antonio! How old _are_ you, five?'

'That's no answer.' Antonio smiled again, leaning towards my face expectantly, '…so answer me… will you do it, Lovino?~'

Oh _shit_. He was moving my way. A-and h-he was getting closer. Maybe a bit.. too close…

Still, I didn't stop him – and neither did I move away.

'D-do what, s-sticking your coloring picture on the refrigerator, o-or…' I hesitated, flustered, crumpling his picture a bit as my fisted hands automatically tightened themselves, '…o-or… or allowing you t-to… y-you know…'

'Kiss you?~'

Antonio didn't touch me, but he did put his hands right next to my legs, to both sides of my sitting figure, his face slowly approaching mine more and more.

'S-something like that…' I said under my breath, my eyes already half lidded as I stared at his warm, inviting lips, now only millimeters apart from my mouth…

…a-and then I quickly twisted my head the other way.

'Ah, but I mean _both_, Lovi – don't look away, my love…' The Spanish man lifted a hand to softly push my slightly embarrassed and turned-away face back to its original position, '… and… and please fulfill my wishes, sweetie…'

'I-I'll see what I can do for you…'

'Please do…'

And before I could have a second thought about all of this, his lips all of a sudden found mine and I felt every single fiber, every single nerve inside of my body, relax.

The kiss and the gentle hand on my burning face made me sigh and gasp quietly, but still too _loudly _if you ask me. I was trying to be quieter, trying to not get _too_ _much_ drawn into the kiss, b-but he was just so… and he was caressing me l-like that, and… and…

A-and then my mind broke down…

**XxX**

When Antonio pulled back, I didn't know how long he had been kissing me, but I _did_ know I somehow ended on the ground, on my back, with my hands underneath his shirt, touching and feeling and rubbing everything I could get underneath my hands.

Also, Antonio was breathing heavier – and shuddering.

'F-feeling experimental, aren't you, Lovino…'

I looked up at his dazed face and hesitated between answering him and just… just _pinching_ that nub on his chest again, when a pile of books behind us chose _that exact _moment to collapse and fall down on the floor kind of noisily.

_Fuck_ – what if Hungary had heard!

Within the blink of an eye, Antonio and I tore ourselves apart from each other and _really_, we had only _just _"installed" ourselves into our original positions again – I mean, Antonio was still panting a bit and my face was still incredibly _red – _when Hungary looked up from her book.

'Oh my, what was that?'

'I-I think the books fell down.' I said, clearing my throat and smoothening Antonio's coloring picture.

But Hungary wasn't stupid and smiled slyly.

'Ohh?~ _Really _now?~ They fell by themselves?~'

'T-that's right, all by themselves, d-dammit.' I said with a frown. Then I hastily started to put the fallen books on top of each other again, hoping the Hungarian woman would get the point and continue reading, but she didn't.

No. Instead, she got up from the floor, dusted off her dress and gave me a smile I couldn't really... _place_.

'Spain?' she asked.

Antonio looked up from his book and paused his feverish coloring.

'Yes, Hungary?'

'Could I… borrow your fiancé for a few minutes?' Hungary's eyes kept themselves firmly glued to mine, '…there's something I'd like to discuss with him.'


	48. Trunk

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: I heard about that hurricane (Irene, right?) that's slowly but surely approaching New York. God, that sounds so scary… I hope everyone's going to be okay there! I've never experienced anything like that before, but I know how deadly those storms can be. If you're from around New York – please take care! _

_A/n2__: Look at that, I found yet another unused butt-song! _8D _Kings of Leon, FTW!~_

_A/n3__: O-okay, I just got to know I'm invited to a Dutch radio-program tonight (from 12.00 AM to 01.00 AM), because I sent in the right answer to a question (which was – and I swear I'm not lying – about the Kings of Leon), so instead of waiting till Saturday, I'm updating the fic a little earlier! Like… right now! _:D_ W-wish me luck…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLVIII:

_**Trunk  
**__**(Kings of Leon**__**)**_

Well.

As I already expected, Antonio easily gave Hungary his permission to take me away from him for a while (fucking bastard, next time I was feeling him up again I swear I was going to tear his fucking nipples _right off _that hunky but not really hunky but actually, yes, _really _really hunky torso of his, dammit), and so, before I could even decently present my spiteful middle finger to the stupid Spaniard, Hungary had taken me by the arm and pulled me with her.

'Please come with me for a second, Roma,' she whispered huskily (probably some after-effects from that nasty smut-book), '…I really have something very important to say to you.'

Her breath hit the skin of my neck and I involuntary shivered.

'O-okay, but _stop_ panting down my neck like that! And… w-wait, where are we even going?' I asked her, weakly struggling against her disturbingly firm grip around me as she dragged me out of the living room.

Hungary was taken aback by this question and eased her hold on my arms.

'Oh my, I don't know, actually. Um… well, is there somewhere you want to go?'

Yes.

Away from _you_.

But I didn't say that, of course.

…

I was _thinking_ it _really hard_, though.

'Um… what about the kitchen?' I quickly suggested when her _burning _and impatient stare was beginning to freak me out a bit.

She cocked her head. 'The kitchen, Romano?'

'The kitchen, yes.'

'Oh, now, that's fine by me, but… why the kitchen, dear?'

'No reason, really.' I muttered, glancing to Antonio's coloring picture in my hands, '…and stop calling me "dear", dammit.'

Hungary watched me for a moment. She looked like she was going to say something, but she changed her mind and smiled friendly at me instead, releasing me completely.

'Okay then – let's go to the kitchen, Romano.'

**xXx**

As soon as we entered the kitchen, I immediately walked over to the big refrigerator as _casually_ as I could, because somewhere, on _some _level, I realized it probably looked a _little _bit… silly, walking to a refrigerator with a peppy picture colored by a 25-year-old in my hands.

I still did it, though.

And I cleared my throat.

'Look, Hungary… if you want to talk to me about the thing I _think _you want to talk to me about, I can already tell you this much: I don't need it.'

I heard the light taps of Hungary's shoes calmly following after me – and I heard the equally light, amused chuckle that escaped her lips when she stood still behind me.

'Oh, so?~ Well, what do you think I want to discuss with you, then?'

'Just a minute…'

I frowned and looked around me, trying to finding some stupid magnets – I knew he had put them in a basket around here _somewhere_, because Antonio liked leaving weird notes addressed to me on the refrigerator when he was working in the garden and I was walking around the House, hesitating between helping him out and stubbornly doing something else, because I was an ass.

…

Still…

…t-those little notes of his always knew to convince me to go outside and join him.

And… and thank him for the nice note.

And… and tell him that I loved him as well.

…

M-maybe I should leave a note for him once in a while as well…

'Here you go, Romano!~'

Hungary suddenly pushed a small, orange basket into my hands, filled with magnets in the shape of all kinds of vegetables, fruits and… turtles. There was also a single magnet shaped as a football in there.

'Oh.' I stupidly stared at the basket with magnets and gave Hungary a small smile. '…thanks. I was wondering where that bastard had put them.'

She laughed a bit.

It made me frown and feel somewhat insecure.

'W-what's so funny?'

'_You_ are, Romano!~' Hungary said, still laughing, '…oh, I think it's so funny and so _adorable _how you just keep on calling Spain a bastard, while you obviously love him very much!'

'Oh. Yes. _That_.'

I turned to the silvery refrigerator and held Antonio's colored picture against it, brushing my hand over it a couple of times to flatten it some more.

'…I can't help it. Old habits die hard. And it's not _that _bad I call him a bastard. He's used to it anyway. Besides… he knows I don't mean it.'

'I believe you.'

From the corner of my eye, I saw Hungary smiled brightly at me and handed over a couple of magnets – one in the shape of a – oh, just what are the _odds_! – tomato and one in the shape of a cucumber.

'And…' I swallowed a bit, already hating myself a little more because of what I was going to say, '…and it's not like… I give him bad names all the time…'

'You have started calling him by his human name.' Hungary said, knowingly.

I attached the magnets to the refrigerator, feeling myself blush.

'T-that, _too_, yes. He really likes that. I mean, I… think I can seriously hurt him if I call him by his nation's name.'

'So… you never call him Spain?'

'Not _anymore_.'

'Not even when visiting other nations?'

'N-no.'

'Not even when lying in bed with him on top of you?'

'…wha—'

'With the wonderful word **Boss **right in front of it?'

I stared at her and was suddenly _extremely_ aware of the fact that I was in a room with Hungary, _alone_, and possibly in mortal danger.

'L-like… **Boss** Spain, Hungary?' I hesitated.

'**Boss **Spain, _oh god YES_…' Hungary gripped the defenseless little basket of magnets so ruthlessly it was beginning to crack a bit, '…don't go telling me you've _never _called him that during the act of making love before now!~'

'T-the _fuck_?' I stammered. '…w-why would I call him that, dammit, it's _weird!_'

Hungary sighed and shook her head with a sad, gloomy smile, touching the side of her face again as if she was _fucking mourning_.

'Oh, Romano. Romano, Romano, Romano. You don't understand. But that's okay, I suppose. A simpleminded Italian like you _wouldn't_ understand.'

I looked at her blankly.

'What. Wouldn't understand… _what, _Hungary.'

'A _maiden's_ _heart_.' she declared, gently putting a hand on her chest.

'Oh _please_.' I rolled my eyes.

She gave me a stern glare.

'Well! For starters, Romano, calling Spain **Boss **Spain and letting him spank and repeatedly molest you with tomatoes and handcuffs and maid-costumes and nipple-clamps isn't _weird_. It's… _**love**_.'

'Love.' I repeated dryly. 'I see. You're going for the nipple-clamped kind of love.'

Hungary ignored me.

'It's nothing more than _pure_, _innocent_ love.'

'If _that's _pure and innocent love, then I'm a fucking _pony_.'

'See?' Hungary pulled out a fluffy handkerchief and started wiping away some nonexistent tears, '…I _told_ you you wouldn't understand a maiden's heart.'

'Hungary…' I uttered a deep and tired sigh, adjusting Antonio's picture a bit better '…just… just tell me what you want to discuss with me already, okay?'

_Please don't let it be about nipple-clamps please don't let it be about nipple-clamps please don't let it be about nipple-clamps._

'Well, alright then.' Hungary said – and swiftly put her hanky away again, as if nothing had happened, '…but first, I've got to say that's a _very_ nicely colored picture Spain made for you.'

'It… it is, right?' I agreed – and it really _was_. Antonio apparently had the strangely cute talent to be able to color _beautifully_.

The picture (of a bowl, filled with tomatoes) was looking like a small painting. He didn't leave a spot uncolored and he hadn't even colored outside the lines. Antonio had also written his name underneath the tomato-drawing, and… w-well, Antonio happened to have a gorgeous, _sexy_ handwriting…

…

…

I can't believe I'm even fucking droolingover his damn _handwriting_. I _can't_.

'You must be happy and proud to have him as your fiancé, don't you?' Hungary then asked me kindly, looking at the picture on the refrigerator.

'I am, yes.' I admitted, not even mumbling or stuttering or protesting. '…I am _very _happy to… have him. He's really… sweet. And loving. And caring. And… he's so concerned about me. Plus, he… always knows what to do or say to make me feel better – better about _myself_. He'll… he'll be a very good husband, I'm sure.'

'That's great, Roma…' Hungary mused.

'And… and _that's_ why…' I continued, '…I don't think I need your advise anymore, Hungary.'

The brunette looked at me, confused at first, but quickly getting the point.

'…ohh, that's _right_, you said something like that earlier as well!~ Something about knowing what I was planning to discuss with you and not-needing this talk…'

'That's right.' I nodded.

'Well, then let me ask you the same question again: what do you think I want to talk to you about?'

'You want to talk to me about how to top Antonio. You want to tell me about how you did it and what I should do to end on top of him as well. Right?'

I decided to keep quiet about the fact that I knew she told Antonio about my topping plans. At least, for _now_.

'Right!~' Hungary smiled a bit broader, '…that's right, Romano, I certainly want to talk to you about me and Spain! But not right _now_.'

'…what do you mean, "not right now"? And _why_ not?' I asked her with a scowl.

She blinked with her big green eyes.

'Well, we have our appointment for this Friday to talk about that matter, remember? You are going to visit me in Budapest, we'll have lunch in a nice little restaurant and I'll tell you all about the perverted things I did with Spain.'

I shuddered and winced at the same time. 'Oh _god_…'

'Ah, silly Romano.' Hungary smiled faintly. '…I'm only _kidding_, dear. It's really not as bad as you might think.'

Her tone of voice had changed – it had become a bit lower, a bit softer, making me look up at her in curiosity.

'What do you mean?'

'Oh _my_, who knows?~' Hungary chuckled. '…you'll find out this Friday, Roma!~'

I didn't get it.

'B-but why bother waiting till Friday, Hungary? That's just _stupid_! You're here now, so why don't you just—'

'Because _I say so_.' Hungary cut me off, putting her hands on her hips and looking slightly cranky, '…_and_ because I want to talk to you about something _else_, Romano, something that concerns you and Spain. And your wedding.'

'What about all that?' I asked.

'Have you arranged anything already?'

'Arranged what?'

'Romano! Are you telling me you haven't thought anything of this out yet?' Hungary clacked her tongue in disappointment and wagged a finger in front of my face, '…you should be _ashamed _of yourself!'

'_Seriously_, woman, I don't have a fucking _clue _what you're trying to tell me!' I exclaimed helplessly, pushing her confronting finger out of my face.

Hungary got a bit angry now.

'Your _wedding_, Romano, your wedding! Come on, for someone who's been waiting for a wedding proposal for so long, you sure take your sweet time getting the point!'

'But—'

'You're like Bridget Jones, only _male, less_ Hollywood-pudgy and _not_-single! You're _Brandon _Jones!'

'I'm wh—'

'Shut it, Brandon Jones, I'll explain to you what I mean.'

Hungary sighed and rubbed her eyebrows before continuing in a critical voice.

'About your and Antonio's wedding. Have you made any arrangements yet? Have you already flipped through some wedding folders or binders? Do you know what budget you're going to need for your wedding? Know _where_ you want to marry? Know where to get your photographers, gardeners, caterers? When are you planning to send the invitations? And when are you planning to give the engagement party? And most important of all… when are you planning to _**marry**_, Romano?'

…

I stared at her like a deer would stare into the headlights of a storming _monstertruck_.

'I-I…' I gulped, '…I… I haven't… _really_ thought about all of that yet, no… b-but we only got engaged _yesterday_! How was I supposed to know Antonio was going to—'

'_Lies_!' Hungary snapped, shaking her head furiously. 'Fem-Fem told me she spilled the beans to you, so you _knew _it was coming!'

Fem-Fem?

…oh, wait.

Fem-Fem = Femke = _Belgium_.

Right.

…

I was _so _going to _whip _that Belgian bitch, next time I saw her.

Only I wouldn't, since I liked her too much for that.

…

Besides, I didn't have a whip.

Anymore.

…

Moving on…

As I was trying to think of something to say to the raging Hungarian woman, I suddenly remembered my carefully muffled-away sketchbook with wedding ideas, hidden somewhere in Antonio's dusty study – I mean, he _never _used his study, that's why I had hid the stupid thing there in the first place.

'W-well, I… I might have got… _some _ideas…' I muttered slowly, flushing as I thought about the way I used to sneak off to the study to scrabble and fantasize about our wedding like some desperate Cinderella or something.

'Really?' Hungary's face and mood instantly cleared up a bit, '…well, that's a relief! Tell me all about that later, then. My, looks like you're more reliable than your cute little brother after all!~'

'Feliciano?' I frowned. '…what's got Feliciano to do with my wedding?'

A short, yet uncomfortable silence followed.

'Ah… well… more than you think – that's why I wanted to talk to you in private for a moment, Romano.'

Hungary smiled, and for the first time since her appearance, she looked a bit nervous.

I got a bad feeling about this.

'Explain.' I ordered, leaning against a table – and _looking_ more nonchalantly than I actually _felt_.

'Right…' Hungary laced her fingers together, '…um, first of all, you know about your brother's engagement to Germany, right?'

…

…

My jaw dropped and my eyes almost _burst_ from_ spreading them out _so suddenly – and _ruthlessly_.

'He's _WHAT?_'

'Engaged. To Germany.' Hungary wasn't even surprised to see my surprise anymore, '…for a couple of months now already, Romano. You didn't know? He was pretty vocal about it, though.'

'Is THIS the face of someone who KNEW?' I hissed, pointing to my twitching eyes with a heavily shaking finger.

'No, dear, that's the face of someone who doesn't know much in _general_.' she scoffed, gently.

_Gently_. What the _fuck_.

I pretended I didn't hear her sarcastic insult and fisted my hands.

'I-I don't understand! Why didn't he tell me! W-we're brothers! We're practically _twins_! So why…'

'Well…' Hungary slowly started, '…now that I think about it, when I visited him yesterday – poor little sweetheart, he's not feeling that well lately – Veni _did _say something about wanting to tell you about his engagement only after _you _got engaged _yourself_. Something about not-wanting to make you jealous. Ah, he's so sweet…'

'Oh. Okay, that… makes sense, I guess…' I hesitated, relaxing my hands a bit, '…but then I wonder why he hasn't contacted me yet…'

'Don't worry, dear, I'm sure he's _planning_ to do it, but, well, he's _sickish_. And probably too busy having a well-deserved _siesta _right now…' Hungary mused, '…it's almost three o'clock, after all. And you know yourself how important it is to have a quickie—I mean, nap in the afternoon…'

I glared at her.

'So you went and told me about Feliciano's engagement in his place instead?'

'Romano, would you stop looking at me like that? Like I said, I thought you already _knew_!' Hungary frowned.

'DON'T make me point at my _very much unknowing_ face again!' I growled. 'Sheesh, how was I supposed to know about his upcoming wedding if he wanted it to be a _surprise_!'

'Spain knew.' The green-eyed brunette shrugged. 'I figured he'd accidentally have told you about Veni and Germany already.'

'_Not _when it's meant to be a _surprise_! God, you call me and Antonio dense, but at least we know when to keep _quiet_ about something!'

'Oh, that's—'

'Unlike _some _nations I know! Don't you agree, _Hungary_?'

I looked her way and narrowed my eyes.

Hungary's face flushed and she avoided my eyes, fiddling with the ribbon on her dress.

'E-ehehe… o-oh my, Roma, once again, I wonder what you mean…'

I narrowed my eyes even _more_, almost shutting them.

OH YOU _KNOW_ WHAT I MEAN, MISSY...

Still, I didn't say anything because I ironically enough didn't want to embarrass her any more (that's right, I can be illogically _nice_ every now and then), so instead, I handwaved it away.

'Anyway…' I sighed, '…you were talking about something concerning Feliciano and potato-bastard Germany's wedding. Right?'

'Ah! Yes, that's right!' Hungary nodded, obviously relieved and not even _hiding_ it, '…I have a very important announcement to make to you – and it's from your boss.'

I groaned. 'First you're talking about my brother's faggy wedding, then you suddenly start talking about my boss… Really, Hungary, this is getting very confusing… what does anything of all this have to do with me and Antonio! And our wedding! And why the hell do you have an announcement from my boss, why doesn't he just… contact_ me_!'

'Because he's busy, Romano – he's got more things to worry about than the weddings of the Italies. And since I'm such a good friend of Veni _and_ the one who's going to help him with his and Germany's wedding, your boss thought it would be wiser if I would be the one to tell you the news.' Hungary explained.

'_What_ news!'

'The news about the decision your boss has made.'

'_What _decision!'

Hungary gave me a careful smile.

'You and Veni are going to have a shared wedding, dear.'

**xXx**

For a few minutes, I wasn't able to speak.

I wasn't able to _fucking_ _**speak**__._

Oh, mind you, it's not that I was _that _disgusted or appalled to the idea of having my wedding on the same _date_, in the same _place_, in the same _room _and at the same _time _as my idiotic younger brother – he's still my brother, after all, and even though I sometimes want to drown him in the deep well in our backyard, I still love him – and really, I should drop by to visit him now that he's feeling ill…

But it's just that…

I _hated_ that I didn't seem to have _anything_ to say in this.

Hungary told me all about it: apparently, since Feliciano was postponing his wedding constantly (because he was waiting for _me_ to get engaged), and since Antonio had suddenly knocked on my boss' door with the burning question to _please _let him have my hand in marriage, _and _since the whole country was having huge economical problems (for some strange reason, I could handle the stress that came with it a _lot_ better than my brother or Antonio), our boss had decided to kill two birds with one stone and told Hungary, Feliciano's voluntarily chosen wedding planner, to help me and Antonio with our wedding _as well_ – by planning a _shared wedding_.

So that was that.

Feliciano and I were both going to get married to our lovers on the same day and all that jazz, and _nothing_ we could do about it.

Yes. _That's_ what Hungary wanted to "discuss" with me, although it wasn't as much discussing as it was simply _telling_ me what to do.

And _that's_ why she was so peeved to find out I hadn't really made any arrangements or decisions yet : Feliciano hadn't planned anything _either_, so that meant she had to do even _more _work now that Antonio and I joined the wedding-fest.

…

Yeah, that sucks, I guess.

But I bet it didn't suck as much as, oh, say, having _nothing_ to say about your _own_ _fucking_ _wedding._

'And _that's_ where you're _wrong_, Romano.' Hungary said with a _tssk!_ when I complained to her about that, '…you, Spain, Veni and Germany have a lot more to say about your wedding than you think… but I tell you more about that later, because I need Spain to be with that explanation as well.'

'Wasn't it easier to have him with _this _explanation as well?' I commented, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes. _Certainly_. But I was _explicitly_ told to tell it to you, _just _you, first. Because it was quite personal information. Orders from your – and mine – boss.'

She shrugged and smiled helplessly.

'Ah… so sorry for the inconvenience, dear. But don't worry – now that you know, we can tell Spain as well!~'

I scratched myself on the head, blinking.

'_God_. I think I'll never understand politics. What an incomprehensible load of _shit_.'

'You have a point.' The Hungarian woman agreed. 'But I think politics, no matter how confusing, are still easier to understand than…'

She held her breath, creating a dramatic pause.

I rolled my eyes. 'Wait, I know this one… than a _maiden's_ _heart_?'

'Yes. A maiden's heart, Roma.'

'That's just great, Hungary.'

'I know.'

'…shall we go back to Antonio now?'

'Missing his abs, aren't you.'

'Oh, shut up.'

**XxX**

And so, Hungary and I went back to the living room, to Antonio – who had just finished coloring a picture of a big, bright _rainbow_ – and told him everything about the news.

I was suspecting him not to mind this at all, and, as pretty much _always_, I was right, because he started cooing about how _cute _and _wonderful _and _adorable _Feli and I would look like if we'd walk down the aisle together as two blushing bri—_grooms _and how _thrilled _he and Germany would be if they saw us like that.

'It would be fantastic, _so_ fantastic…' Antonio sighed dreamily and winked at me. '…right, sweetie?~'

I just frowned at him and muttered something about him, being a certain kind of bastard. The _tomato_ kind.

'You know what would even more _fantastic_?~' Hungary said, her eyes getting big and disturbingly _sparkly_.

…

Right.

I swiftly grabbed Antonio's arms, pushed him in front of me and shot some incredibly weary glares at the grinning Hungarian female from behind the stupefied Spaniard.

'Say anything stupid and I'll use _this!_'

I poked Antonio's side, who jumped up a bit in surprise.

'You'll use an attractive Spaniard! Oh _my!_ My magical powers are useless against attractive Spaniards!' Hungary giggled and wiggled her eyebrows playfully. 'Ah, I must say I'm _intrigued_, Romano. Still, I wasn't going to say anything stupid, dear. Not in the _least_.'

Antonio blinked and rubbed his side. 'What were you going to say then, Hunga—'

'Romano…' Hungary pointed to me, her face more serious and more determined than ever, '…should wear a _wedding dress_.'

'A _WHAT_?' I hissed.

She nodded stately.' Yes. You should wear a wedding dress on your wedding day. _Nothing _would please my pure and innocent heart more than that.'

'You're _not _innocent and about as pure as my _ass_!' I shuddered when I realized my voice was a bit higher than usual and poked the Spaniard in front of me again. 'Antonio! _You _say something about it!'

'You bet I will!' He fisted his hands. 'Hungary!'

'Yes, dear?~'

'The wedding dress should be _pink_!'

WHAT THE-!

'_Not _fucking _helping_, Antonio!' I snarled, now _stomping _him.

'_Ouch_!' Antonio cringed a bit, giving me an unsure grin when he looked up at me again. '…b-but Lovi, you'd look so _cute_ in a pink wedding dress… and wearing a basket with tomatoes… and flowers in your hair…'

'…you _really_ thought this out, didn't you.'

'A-ahaha…'

'Good god.' I sighed. '…yeah, well, _you_ would look cute if you'd marry me _naked_, but you don't hear _me _saying you should do that.'

Antonio's face lit up. '…ah, well, if that's what _you_ want, I could do tha—'

'I WON'T FUCKING LET YOU.'

Meanwhile, Hungary made a strange, strangled noise I decided to ignore.

'Look, Antonio…' I started, hesitating for a second – since Hungary was still… _being_ _here_ before taking his hands in mine, '…I… I already _have _a few rough ideas about… our wedding.'

'Ah! You have?' Antonio asked excitedly, automatically fucking _swaying _our connected hands back and forth.

'Y-yes.' I swallowed – it was quite embarrassing to confess this, after all, '…I… um, I have a sketchbook with a few… suggestions, so if you'd like, I could…'

'…tell me them?~ Or show me them?~' He smiled, pulled me closer and gave me a quick peck. '…ah, that's great, Lovino! I bet your ideas and drawings are _beautiful_.'

'I don't kno—'

'Like _you_ are, my love.'

I felt my cheeks getting warmer and couldn't help but letting out a short laugh.

'They're probably not as great as Feliciano's drawing would be, though.'

'Of _course_ not.' Antonio said, stealing another kiss form me before continuing.

'…they're _better_.'

…

I…

I wanted to say something nice to him/fidget with his fingers/hug him/kiss him for a bit, since he was so _sweet_, so _romantic_, so _Antonio_, but was distracted from my light and fuzzy feelings when Hungary breathed out a… _tad _too… _loudly_.

'My, _please_ don't mind me…' she whispered, licking her lips and rubbing her handkerchief against her temple, '…I'm just standing here, right here, yes, _riiiiight_ here…'

…

'Okay. Um… about my ideas.' I let go of Antonio (which made the other two personifications utter a depressed "awwww…"), '…I'm going to fetch my sketchbook and… I'll show you what I have in mind. Alright?'

I looked from Hungary to Antonio and felt something _rare _bubbling up inside of me, something I could only describe as… _bouncy anticipation_.

…

Now, this was rare. I… I almost _never_ felt this way – only when I was about to show others something I had made myself… something I felt pretty _good_ about…

Antonio knew – didn't know how to hold a book, but _god _did he know _me_ – and gave me an encouraging smile.

'Okay! Hungary and I will be waiting for you right here!~'

'Okay!'

I spun around and had to force myself _not _to make a freaking _dash_ as I left the room.

**xXx**

I found my sketchbook way too quickly to my liking, what _seemed_ to prove I took that thing out of its hiding place lots and _lots_ of times per week, but that's not true, it's _not _true, I only took it out three, maybe four, five times a week. Tops.

…

That's not much at all, so shut up.

And fuck you.

…

Anyway.

After taking my sketchbook out of Antonio's study and checking if everything was still attached and ordered the way it _should _be attached and ordered, I quickly got my ass back to the living room, barely able to contain my nervous excitement as I entered the room again and flashed the book to Hungary and Antonio, who were just busy sipping some juice.

'Ah – you found it? Great!~'

Hungary put down her drink on the small table in front of her and patted the spot in between her and Antonio.

'Sit down, dear, and show me everything!'

Maybe it sounds weird, maybe a bit _impossible_, even, but I _didn't_ _hesitate at all_ when I walked over to her with my sketchbook and flopped down next to her – I was just _that_ focused on… well, showing her what I got.

Got into my _hands_, I mean.

'I got you some tomato juice as well, Lovi!' Antonio said, pointing to the fullest glass on the table, '…since we haven't eaten anything yet, I figured it would be best to have some delicious, nutritious juice, freshly squeezed out of a big, fat tomato!~'

'T-th… thank you.' I mumbled. Thanking Antonio had never been easy for me, but now _that_ _woman_ was observing every single move we made, it somehow became more difficult for me.

Antonio didn't seem to have that problem, though.

'You're very welcome, my love!~'

He patted my hair and smiled fondly at me, t-to which I decided not to react.

Instead, I took a few deep, deeeeeeep breaths… and flipped open the sketchbook.

'Okay…' I started, feeling myself sweat when Hungary's hungry eyes attacked the defenseless paper, '…this… this is a bit of what I have in mind for our wedding…'

**xXx**

I think I already told a bit about how I wanted my and Antonio's marriage to look like, but _screw _that – going to tell most of it again anyway, so just suck it up.

Well.

I told/showed Hungary and Antonio that I wanted our wedding to take place in a nice, little chapel, somewhere in Madrid. It had white bricks – _white_ fucking _bricks_, that's just so fucking _beautiful_ – and a very friendly (possibly also very _gay_) elderly priest, who was somewhat of an old friend of Antonio and probably would be very glad to marry us.

…

I-I had drew a very nice picture of it and I even had reconstructed the chapel with glued-on bits of newspaper and magazine.

…

I had also written a small map (could come in handy if we really were going to get married in that chapel) and some corny bit of poetry next to the papery chapel since I had been in a romantic mood when making this, but I had written it down in Italian, so I could say it was part of the travelling plan.

Yes. Slyness is _me_.

…

Too bad Antonio _knew _a bit of Italian and started to praise me for my wonderful use of the words love, eternity, passion and sunshine, what pleased me (and Hungary) a lot more than it should have pleased me (and Hungary).

Then, I went to another page and told/showed the Hungarian and Spaniard that I wanted Antonio to be dressed in white, and me dressed in black for our wedding. Or _both_ black. Or both _white_. There were quite a few of sketches of that (since it was about clothing and since I _happened _to be an Italian), so the possibilities were endless – as long as I didn't have to be the only one wearing white.

'Why not?' Hungary asked in response to my declaration, '…Romano, white would go great with your olive skin and slender posture! And Spain would look so _manly _in black…'

'Yeah, a bit _too _manly – everybody would start to make stupid comments on how I looked like a fine fucking _bride_, dammit.' I grumbled.

Antonio laughed softly to that.

'Well, it doesn't matter what they would say – dressed in white or not, you'd still be one of the _grooms_, Lovino. Last time I checked, you were still male, after all.'

'Last time you c-checked—' I shivered. '…god, p_lease _stop talking, y-you…'

'In that case, I suggest you both should either marry in black or white.' Hungary said, _not _acting like a perverted tornado for once and tapping a finger on one of the drawings, '…I mean, it wouldn't be fair to Spain if _he_ married in white and got to be called the bride, too. Right?'

'I don't mind, really.' Antonio shrugged, "accidentally" placing a hand on my hand, the one that was lying on the seat of the couch, '…as long as it pleases Lovi, I'm fine with it.'

'N-no, she has a point…' I realized, frowning and staring at the drawing Hungary pointed to – the one with me and Antonio both dressed in black, '…maybe we both should marry in black _or _white.'

'I'd say black. Black's cool and manly and _gorgeous_.' Hungary said. 'Not that there's anything wrong with white, but that's more… _feminine _and… _fragile_.'

'You're right about that, yes.' Antonio nodded.

I smiled a bit. 'Well, glad we all agree on that. Black it is.'

Hungary's eyes grew all of a sudden and she tapped my arm. 'Ah! And maybe…maybe it's a cute idea to dress Veni and Germany in _white_ then! Since Veni is feminine and Germany's fragile, it would look _very_ nice on them!'

'Yes!' I said, also spreading my eyes, '…and it would make them look positively _wussy_ when being compared to me and Antonio! _Fantastic!_'

Antonio grinned a bit and rolled his eyes.

'You're mean, Lovi.'

'_Cunning_. The word you're looking for is _cunning_.' I corrected him.

'Well, anyway, I'll definitely inform them later about this, oh yes, you can count on me.' the brunette promised, '…but moving on: do you have more ideas, Roma?'

What a dumb question.

Of _course_ I had!

So I _also _presented her and Antonio the ideas I had for the flowers (carnations and daisies), for the catering (Italian and Spanish, naturally) and for the kind of music that should be played (same story), which all were _great_.

It really was a pity that, now that Feliciano and Germany were going to get married together with us, we were forced to throw in some disgusting _German _elements as well, but oh well – there were more important things to worry about than that.

Like our guest list. I had even already thought a bit about _that_.

But Hungary laughed apologetically when she read the list and gave it back to me.

'Oh dear, I'm afraid that's one of the things you haven't got anything to say about, Romano.'

'It's already decided who will come to the wedding?' I asked.

'Sort of…' she commented vaguely, '…you see, Romano, you and Spain getting married _and _Veni and Germany getting married… that's _three _nations, all three getting married at the same time. It's quite a happening, dear.'

'Weddings _always_ are quite a happening!' Antonio said and took the guest list out of my hands, reading it.

'So… so what are you saying?' I gulped, although I think I already knew what she was going to say, '…are you saying that… that _all_…'

'Yes, Romano.' Hungary nodded slowly. 'Pretty much _every single country _should be invited to come.'

'We- we'll have to invite _everyone_?' I moaned. 'Oh _god_…'

Looks like I should forget about getting married in the quiet little chapel…

'Well, at _least_ you should invite the whole of Europe and that noisy cutie, America. And his brother. And those other adorable kind-of relatives of England. And Japan.'

'America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand I can understand (just a _bit_, though), but why, _why _would we invite _Japan_!'

Hungary gave me a sweet smile.

'I'm sorry, that's classified information.'

…

I _shuddered_.

'Hungary, do the South American nations have to come as well?' Antonio suddenly asked her, looking worried, '…because I _really _doubt they want to come. And my own sibling's probably not going to come, either.'

'My, I don't know, actually…'

Hungary frowned and looked up, thinking of what to say. Then she beamed a confident smile at us.

'You know what, I'll contact your bosses again and I'll get to the bottom of this and I'll make sure your wedding will be planned as soon as possible. Okay?~'

She stood up from the couch and looked at the clock, frowning.

'Hmmm. I better get moving right away if I want this all to happen the way we want it to happen…'

'G-god, Hungary…' Antonio stared at her, his expression something between admiration and worry.

'Really? You _sure_ you can do this?' I looked at her, feeling some newfound respect for Hungary now that I knew she was planning to do so much for me, Antonio and those other two losers in Germany, '…I mean, if there's something we can help you with…'

'Yes – let me borrow that sketchbook of yours.' Hungary held up her hand.

'W-why!' I stammered, gripping my book firmer.

'Because it's full of good ideas.' She smiled. 'And a lot of them are _more_ thought-out than you think, Romano. Besides, I bet your brother will agree with pretty much _all _of your creative ideas, which will speed things up a bit.'

I blushed, blinking.

'Y-you think I'm creative…?'

Hungary chuckled. 'You can ask such silly things, Romano. Of _course_ you are creative, dear!~'

Antonio laughed as well, putting his hands on my hips and kissing me on the back of my head.

'H-hey…' I struggled against his grip weakly and unsuccessfully – _really_, you should_ know this _already.

'Ah, it'll take at least one more century before Lovino will finally be able to wholeheartedly _believe_ that compliment you gave him _without _having doubts about it immediately afterwards, Hungary.' Antonio said and rested his chin on my shoulder. '…he tends to compare himself to Feli, every once in a while. Especially when it comes to his artistic skills.'

'W-wha… s-shut up!' I nagged, embarrassed, and tried to jab an elbow in his stomach.

'So is it okay, Romano? Can I borrow your book?'

The Hungarian woman looked at me expectantly.

'Um… yeah, okay… just don't damage it. A-and please bring it back to me safely afterwards. I… I really did my best on that thing, after all…'

I swallowed as I gave her my sketchbook.

Hungary gave me another, now reassuring smile as she took the book and pressed it to her chest protectively.

'Thank you. You won't regret it, dear. And I'll personally make sure Veni and you'll get the _best_ wedding _ever_. Trust me on this one.'

I just nodded a bit – and blushed some more when Antonio gave me a soft, encouraging squeeze, wrapping his arms around my waist now.

'You heard her, Lovi. No matter what's going to happen, it's going to be _great_, sweetie.'

'Y-yeah.'

I smiled and relaxed a little.

'Yeah, you're right.'

**XxX**

'Oh! Before I leave, I still have something to say to you.'

Hungary, who Antonio and I had walked to the front door, looked at me, her eyes getting that scary, serious glint again.

'_Please _don't start about that maiden-shit again. I _beg _you.' I instantly said, wincing.

'Maiden-shit?' Antonio gave me a confused look. '…what… maiden-shit, Lovi?'

I shook my head. 'Oh, nothing – I don't get it either.'

'Oh no, it's about something else!' Hungary explained, '…about upcoming Friday!'

'Yeah – what about it?' I frowned.

She grinned broadly, opening the door.

'I'm afraid we have to postpone our lunch-appointment in Hungary for a couple of hours, dear: we're going to score some nice suits and tuxes in Italy for you and the others first, so please make sure you take Spain with you when you're coming my way!~'

'What?' Antonio said, confusedly.

'_What_?' I stammered as well, only more _flabbergasted_ than just confused.

'You heard me.' Hungary winked at us. 'Got to go now!~ Lots of stuff to arrange, have to bring back that truck, have to visit Veni in Germany, have to snicker at my own perverted mind because I said Veni IN Germany, etcetera, etcetera…'

'B-but…' I stuttered.

'_Ta-ta_ for now, dearies! Till Friday!~ Don't hump each other too much!~'

And just like that, she shut the door and went away, leaving Antonio an me with a lot of unanswered questions.

And even _more _unresolved sexual tension.

'Ohh, I think a _little_ humping won't hurt anybody… right Lovi?~' Antonio lisped in my ear, the _fucking __**second **_Hungary left.

Then he bit me and _kept_ _nibbling_ the tender skin of my ear, wh-which I… kind of allowed for a while, until I couldn't take it anymore and told him with a unsteady voice to let go of me already.

'Make me.'

He blew into my ear.

…

…

Oh _god_.

This was going to be an _awful_ week, alright…


	49. Biscuits

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: For all the readers who directly or indirectly have experienced and/or suffered from Hurricane Irene… how are you all doing now? Are you okay? A lot of you told me last week the hurricane wasn't __**that**__ bad, but I know the storm caused quite a few deaths… So for those who haven't told me yet… please, let me know how you're doing.  
__I also __**just**__ heard something about a tropical storm heading towards Louisiana… that true?_

_A/n2: And for those who are curious but haven't asked me yet: going to the radio-station (3FM) was great!__ I met a lot of famous/semi-famous artists and DJ's and I even wiped the ass of the guy I had to "battle" against: some smug 26-year-old, who I seriously __**despised**__ near the end of the show. Ugh – wiseass. __In the end, I won some kind of trophy and a silly little book. Yay! _8D

_A/n3: A reader (you know who you are~) convinced me to write at least a bit of Lovi and Toni's (and Feli and Luddy's) wedding, so… well, that's what I'm going to do!_^^ _Also, a few weeks ago, I was convinced this fic would end after chapter 50 – and that would have been kind of cool. Buttttt. It looks like I'll be hanging around for a few more weeks, heh… Yay for rambling!~_

_A/n4: And look: I have yet another new butt-song! Isn't it amazing just how many butt-songs I all of a sudden can find on the magical digital net? _XD

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter XLIX:

_**Bacon Biscuit Blues  
**__**(Aerosmith**__**)**_

Very much later that day (I'd say, around midnight, which actually was the beginning of the _new_ day, depending how needlessly serious you looked at it), the door of Antonio's bedroom was brutally _kicked open _as Antonio and I made our way into the room.

While kissing.

And groping.

And rubbing.

And panting.

And stammering and stuttering and wheezing to each other in low, lustful voices.

'Mnh-hnn… n-no, we shouldn't, Antonio, we _shouldn't_… a-_ah_…' I heard myself gasping for air between a couple of heated kisses, trying to get my hands off of the completely _naked _Spaniard's bottom while he was, ironically, doing his best to _keep_ _them there_.

'I-I know…' Antonio breathed against my wet lips, passionately kneading my butt as well with one hand while the other one was insistently holding my own hands on the soft flesh of his nicely-curved backside, '…y-you're so _right_, Lovi… hnmn… we shouldn't. Oh no, we _shouldn't_…_god, _your ass feels so_ soft_…and so… _inviting_…'

'N-no, st-sto – _ah_, stop it, w-we should… save it, dammit… save it for our weddin—'

I was cut off when he gave me a short but persistent kiss and pushed me on the bed.

'I-I can't help it, Lovi… It's your own fault… you…' Antonio swallowed hard when he saw the feverish blush on my flustered face as he crawled on top of me, '…you make this so _difficult _for me_, _you… you _really _should stop _teasing _me already… and you should… you should… you should let me have my revenge on you… ah, what _sweet _revenge that will be, so sweet… so very sweet… you won't be sorry for letting me have my revenge on that _hot_, _sexy_ body of yours…'

'N-no…' I managed to gasp out, shuddering a bit when my always _very _lively imagination made me picture me and Antonio having painful and _badly_ prepared but still _fucking hot forbidden sex _with me still being half-dressed, '…no, Antonio, g-get off me…'

'I really want to get _inside_ of you, though…' Antonio confessed, '…get inside of you and make you feel me like you've _never _felt me before… but if you don't like that idea…'

He suddenly flipped us over so that I landed on top of _him _instead and clamped his hands and legs around me, smiling wickedly.

'…then please get inside of _me, _my love… make me feel _you_… like I've never felt _you_ before…'

My mouth was getting dry as I looked down on his _amazingly _beautifu land willing body and for a moment, I felt like blankly nodding and wrapping my limbs around him just as eagerly as he had, I felt like hugging and kissing and entering and showering that _amazing _body of his with all the love and lust and sex I had in me, but _then…_

Then I remembered our pact again.

Our pact and _oh god, _our _wedding_ _night_, that was going to make everything we would withhold _now_ and not-withhold _then_ so, _so _much better and so much more special…

…

…

SHOWER.

SHOWER _NOW_.

Quickly, I tore myself away from Antonio, pulling my hands back and avoiding his clouded, half-lidded eyes as I swore and tumbled off the bed, _raced_ towards the bathroom, jumped into the tub and turned on the cold water.

GAH!

The freezing _holy shit so damn ICE-COLD _water that came pouring out of the showerhead hit me like a… like a fucking _refuse collection vehicle_-truck-like thing, and I let out a shrill moan of relief.

'Oh… oh t-thank god_, _th-thank _god, _dammit… thank god…'

I shivered and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling pleased as well as disappointed when the burning feeling below my stomach began to – pretty literally – calm down.

That was _close_.

That… that was very, _very _close…

'Lovi?' I heard Antonio calling from just outside of the bathroom.

I opened one eye and shot a sort-of angry glare at the naked Spaniard, now all of a sudden standing in the doorway, his hair a mess and his cheeks glowing with an embarrassed and apologetic flush.

'…a-ahahaha… sorry, m-my bad…'

**XxX**

I wish I could indeed say that all of this was _obviously _Antonio's fault.

I really, _really_ wish I could say _he _was the one that created the sexual tension and the dramatic outburst that eventually followed after a whole day full of innuendoes and flirtations from _his_ side.

B-but then I'd be lying.

…

Because…

…w-we were _both _at fault.

You see, after Hungary had left our sexual frustrations and us all by ourselves again, we had _somehow_, for _some_ stupid reason, decided to spend the rest of the day trying to _crack _the other one, to _trick _the other one into breaking the promise.

…

Not exactly the _smartest _thing to do when you've just promised to wait till your wedding night as obediently as a couple of _fail_-Catholics can do, but since we're not very smart in the _first_ place, it was bound to happen.

Besides, it… it started off with just a bit of playful teasing from both sides, like Antonio biting my ear and blowing into it, and me, moaning a bit in response to that the way I _knew _it would send sparks down his spine…

B-but that… that was just something _innocent_, really! _Extremely_ innocent!

And during the rest of the day, more equally innocent incidents like this happened, like…

…Antonio, purposely dropping things, so he could _bend over _and _stay _like that for over five minutes while _wiggling __**dat ass **_and complaining about how _tight _his pants were…

… and me, _accidentally _spilling tomato-juice on my hands and cleaning all of my fingers by _sucking _them one by one, _lingering_ on the middle fingers…

…and Antonio again, suddenly starting to walk around the House _naked_, using the old "it's-my-House-and-if-I-want-to-walk-around-the-House-butt-naked-than-I-_shall_-walk-around-the-House-butt-naked" -excuse…

…and me again, reading books with… suggestive themes while making _certain _sounds as I read them, before suggesting to Antonio in a raspy voice to write down some of the interesting positions that were discussed in the books ("Ohh, this #69-thing seems _nice_...")…

…

Really, I-I had _never_ acted so damn _seductive _before in my life, and to be honest, up to this point, I was enjoying it _greatly_.

I discovered I could drive Antonio _wild _by just running my tongue over my bottom lip, or by uttering a sweet compliment, or _smirking_ at him in a very naughty "_come hither_" –way, or by merely _breathing out_.

…

A-at the same time, Antonio found out that the sight of his butt _alone_ was enough to arouse me like _crazy_. He also found out that him talking out loud about me topping the _crap_ out of him got me hot as well. And let's not forget about his breath, brushing my skin. Or his fingers touching me _ever _so slightly. All of it made me feel excited and turned-on as _hell_.

…

S-so it wasn't before too long that the quasi-innocent flirtations and sexual innuendoes became… a lot _less… _quasi-innocent…

At… at a certain point, we were even fucking _masturbating _to each other, while sitting on the couch, Antonio bluntly _pumping_ himself as his glazed green eyes watched me pulling and stroking my lonely haircurl, me groaning and moaning softly with every single tug – and with every single, slow movement of Antonio's hand.

…

…

…y-yeah, we _probably_ crossed a line there. Maybe even _more _than just _one_.

I don't know who was the first one to give up; I only know we were suddenly all over each other, touching and pressing our bodies together as close and as hungrily we could while making out like there was no fucking tomorrow.

Trying to stop was useless – we both found it _incredibly _sexy when the other gasped we shouldn't be doing this, because it was like breaking a _rule_, and _damn _if breaking the rules wasn't the hottest thing _ever_, so we only got more and more and _more _excited, until we eventually ended up on Antonio's bed, on the fucking _verge _of vengefully _destroying_ our pact…

…and then I was the first to regain my senses again.

…

And to take a dash to the bathroom.

**xXx**

About thirty minutes later, after the both of us had cooled ourselves down – thank God for freezing cold showers and for Antonio's inability to pay his fucking water bills on time – we sat back on the bed.

Wearing the most _hideous _PJ's _ever _in a brave and very well thought-out attempt to prevent ourselves from _glomping _each other again: _**onesies**_.

That's right. Fucking _onesies_.

And _**socks**_. **Grey** ones. With _holes _in it. You know the ones. We just pulled them right over the feet-parts of our onesies.

Oh, the _humanity_.

If _that _didn't turn you off, you had a serious problem.

Or a maiden's heart.

…

Or _both_, really.

Anyway, Antonio wore a bright red onesie which silly little green _strap-on_ turtles on it – he bought it once on a flea market in Barcelona – and I wore a _bright, hellish_ orange one - also from Barcelona. With _no shape_ whatsoever. I looked like an oversized _bag, _really. An extremely _ugly _oversized bag, too.

'I think you look cute, though!~' Antonio tried to cheer me up while sticking some fucking turtle-things to his head, but I didn't believed him – especially not because that Spanish asshole had fallen off the bed laughing his ass off a few minutes earlier, when I had put the oversized bag backwards and somehow had ended up using the butt-side as the face-side.

…

Well, I hope he had a good laugh, because the giant turtle I furiously stuffed in his mouth a minute later _surely _made laughing a bit more of a challenge.

That'd teach the bastard.

Naturally, after _that_ humiliating experience, I swore to myself that when all of this was over, I'd murderously dip all the one-pieced nightmares in Antonio's House into that huge barrel of purple chemical acid I had found in Antonio's shelter once, which meant there was going to be a _lot _of fireworks when I decided the time was right to… _heh_… _**wash **_the onesies.

And after that, I'd send the mutated, twitching and burning remains to France the Fuckface, just for the fucking _hell_ of it.

And I'd put an evil note with it, asking how Pierre, that shitty white bird of his,was doing. And if he had seen that feathery bastard lately.

Oh god. Just _imagine _the screams of shock and terror that would tear through his House

…

It would be fucking _beautiful_.

…

A-and _mean_.

_Really_ mean.

_Evil-Dictator-Belarus-juggling-with-__**freaking**__-__**dead**__-__**bodies**__ -_mean.

…

…

O-okay then, maybe simply skipping the dipping-part and throwing the onesie-shit away was a better option.

But I digress…

**xXx**

'W-well.'

I cleared my throat and sat a bit more upright, clumsily folding my (orange) legs like a prudish female schoolteacher as I tried to give Antonio – who was lying on his (red) tummy and leaning on his (red) elbows – a sincerely critical look.

'Maybe we should… think of some basic rules.'

'Basic rules, Lovi?' Antonio repeated me, tilting his head, which made him look unintentionally _adorable _with that stupid fluffy turtle on his head.

'Y-yeah,' I nodded, a bit distracted, '…you know, to avoid breaking the pact.'

'Aha. Yes.' Antonio said. 'Because breaking the pact would be _terrible_.'

'N-no, it wouldn't be… downright _terrible_,' I carefully corrected him, '…it just… it would be a really big _pity_. A _disappointment_, really.'

'Hm-hm...'

The Spaniard made a sound of acknowledgement, but it didn't sound all that convincing to me.

I frowned, scooting a bit closer towards him.

'You… you don't think so?'

'Ah, don't get me wrong, sweetie…' Antonio smiled up at me, '…I think this whole plan of yours is very sexy – and, like I said, _genius_, of course. And the idea of releasing all of our sexual frustrations on each other during our wedding night pleases me more than the thought of disappointing you by having sex with you _right now_… but let's be honest, Lovi: I don't think we can do it. Or… _cannot _do it.'

'Wh-why not!' I grumbled.

He chuckled and sat up straight himself, too.

'I admire your motivation to fight against my and your own lusty desires, Lovino, but today, you saw for yourself just how _bad_ we are at… holding back. I mean, we were about to cross the line, my love… it was a _really_ close call, and if you hadn't run off to the bathroom, I swear we'd be having animalistic sex right now and not… talking and wearing _these_ sexless things.'

Antonio made a face and tugged a bit on one of his sleeves.

'Look, don't tell me things I already know.' I started, snorting. 'I know very well it's going to be difficult to keep ourselves from… m-making love. I even mentioned that this morning. But you told me _yourself_ you could do it. Remember?'

'Yes, but…' Antonio pouted. '…that was _before _you turned into such a seductive sex-kitten.'

I stared at him. '…a _what_?'

'Um… a… a sex-kitten, Lovi. With your teasing and moaning and moving…' Antonio blushed, beaming a coy, flirty smile at me. '…really, Lovi, your sweet sexiness drove me _mad_. How was I supposed to ignore that… that purring, rolling, smiling, lip-biting _beauty _in front of me?~'

'H-hey, _you _started it! You started… b-biting my ear and all! And walking around naked! I… I had to _defend _myself!'

'By acting like a sex-kitten?~'

'Yes! No! I-I mean… stop calling me a fucking sex-kitten, dammit!'

He grinned. 'Ah, you know what I mean, Lovino.'

'Okay, so… so no more teasing from now on, then.' I decided right then and there, looking around me and abruptly snatching some poster and a pen from his nightstand.

Antonio gave me a sad look when he saw that, but I didn't fall for it and ordered him to turn his back on me, to which he obliged with a deep sigh.

'That's the first basic rule of our No Sex Pact: no more teasing.' I said again, now with more confidence and while writing it down on the paper I held against his back.

'Is it really necessary to have more rules?' Antonio already started to complain, '…can't we just leave it with that one rule? It's already the _worst_ rule, anyway…'

'No.' I pursed my lips together. 'If we want to do this good, we'll have to _do_ _it _good.'

'Do it good, huh… I like the sound of that.' He snickered and glanced over his shoulder to wink at me.

I bit back a smile and gently smacked the back of his head.

'…s-shut up, you perv…'

**xXx**

In the end, we eventually thought of a few more Very Important Basic Rules for our equally Very Important No Sex Pact.

…

And when I say "_we_", I mean "_I_".

Yeah. Because Antonio didn't want to think of things we weren't supposed to do to/with each other anymore (since it depressed him and since he knew he wasn't able to think of _good_ basic rules anyway), I had to think of all the No Sex Pact–rules by myself, and after a lot of thinking and sketching and silently gazing at that _really, incredibly, way too fucking __**cute**__-looking_ turtle-party that was going on on Antonio's body, these rules made it to the Very Important Basic Rules Notes (read: the backside of that poster I snatched off Antonio's nightstand)…

Very Important Rule 1: no more teasing/seducing/flirting/groping/feeling/touching/licking/perverting/subtexting;

Very Important Rule 2: no more reading/watching/doing any _other_ questionable stuff I didn't name at Rule 1 that could lead to the violation of Rule 1;

Very Important Rule 3: only serious/simple conversations from now on that were about safe, boring and everyday-like things (that _didn't _include _anything _that could have got something to do with sex), like talking about the weather, about whatever's coming on the television and, of course, about the _economy_ – always a good way to scare a stubborn erection back to its original limp status again.

Very Important Rule 4: sleeping naked was a _no-no_. A _HUGE _no-no, since it could lead to an _extremely quick _violation of Rules 3, 2 and 1;

And… and last but not least, Very Important Rule 5…

…

…n-no more sleeping together.

'_What_?'

Antonio gave me an unbelieving stare after I had read out loud that last rule, his mouth falling half-open.

'You heard me.' I snorted, folding the poste—I mean, Notes.

'So… so we can't sleep together anymore?'

'That's what I said.'

'But why not! W-what's wrong with sleeping together with you?' Antonio stammered, '…I've pretty much _always_ slept with you! For years! No… _centuries_! I already slept with you when you were still a _kid_!'

I couldn't help but shiver. '_God_, it sounds so _wrong _if you put it like that.'

Antonio frowned. 'Cut it out. I don't mean it like that and you know it.'

'I do! B-but…' I suckled my lower lip for a bit, '…but it's just that… that was _different_. We weren't… l-like _this _in that situation. We weren't… _lovers_.'

'Ah, yes, I realize that, but—'

'And there's _no way_,'I interrupted him, '…I could _ever_ see you as anything _different_ than… than as my lover, so… so it's crystal clear _things_ will happen if we… sleep together.'

'What kind of _things_!' Antonio sounded a bit snappy.

'God, don't you get it? I'd want to _hold_ you, dammit!' I snarled right back at him, face bursting into _fucking flames_, '…h-hold you and hug you and… y-you know, the usual stuff!'

'So? What wrong with that? Go ahead, you can hold and hug and do the usual stuff with me as much as you want, Lovino!' he said with a sigh. '…_god_, you act like we _never _do those things, unless it ends up in having sex…'

'I-I _know_, dammit, but… but… who knows how long we'll have to wait before we can get married. Hungary… has to plan everything, so… well, let's be realistic here: like any marriage, it could take _months _before we could… say "I do"_…_'

Antonio paled. 'M-_months_?'

'Months, yes…' I nodded.

'B-but that's…'

'Long, yes…'

'That would be…'

'_Torture_, yes…'

Silence filled the room for a minute or two.

'Well…' Antonio finally said, trying to sound optimistic, '…you shouldn't think like that! It's _Hungary _who's helping us, after all, and you know how creep—I mean, _convincing_ she can be when it's about… guys. I'm _sure_ she'll manage to fetch us a wedding within two weeks, just you wait and see!'

'Two weeks…' I looked up to the ceiling, '…that shouldn't… be _too_ difficult… I mean, at least that's a… _fairly_ reasonable time to wait…'

'Right?' Antonio uttered a sigh of relief. 'We can do that! I'm _sure_ we can!'

'Yes. But… for the time being, I still think we should sleep in separate beds, though.' I persisted, looking at him.

He groaned. 'Lovi…'

'No, I'm _serious_!' I said, '…I… I really want this wedding night to be _amazing_, Antonio, and that's why I want to avoid _anything_ that could result into another… moment of weakness. Or _worse_.'

Antonio kept silent.

'I-I know I sound like a fucking _wuss_, but it's a big deal to me. And… and I think it's a big deal to _you_, too…' I twiddled my fingers nervously. '…that's why we shouldn't… mess around with our promise like this. Do you understand?'

'Yes…'

The Spaniard heaved another deep sigh.

'I don't like it, but _yes_, I understand. Okay. Then we'll… just sleep by ourselves, then.'

'Okay.' I smiled a bit (but really just a little bit) as I got off the bed.

'One thing, Lovi…' Antonio started, watching me walking away, '…what about your insomnia?'

…

…

Oh. Yes. _That_.

Right.

…

'I'm not a fucking _baby_, Antonio. Sheesh, I'll be _fine_, don't sweat it.' I heard myself say with a huff, making myself taller as I glanced at him, '…_heh_, you better worry about _yourself_, moron. Think _you _can sleep peacefully without me?'

Antonio, sitting in-between the sheets, stared at me for a while, a soft smile slowly appearing on his face.

'No.'

W-wha… I felt I was flushing again and shot an angry glare his way.

'D-don't fucking lie to me, you bastard, you _know _you're a damn _pro _at sleeping! You haven't got problems with sleeping _whatsoever_! You sleep like a motherfucking _log_!'

He chuckled.

'_Certainly_, Lovi! I can sleep easily without you, no problem!~'

'Then—'

'But that's _not_ what you asked me. You asked me if I could sleep _peacefully _without you.'

'Y-yeah, so?' I muttered.

'Ah… did you forget, sweetie?'

Antonio's smile grew even _gentler_.

'I used to be a coldblooded nation of _war_, Lovino. _You _were the one that brought _peace_ to me.'

My face got a little bit warmer and I felt like saying something, but I didn't know what to say.

'So _no_. I _can't_ sleep _peacefully_ without you, my love.'

Antonio breathed out quietly.

'_Never_.'

…

…

I stood in the doorway for a little while, _speechless_, my flattered heart pounding in my chest and my brain desperately trying to process all those sweet and weird and loving thoughts that all of a sudden started _bouncing_ through my head, before I finally made a decision and… s-shyly, but also very _quickly_ shuffled back to that… t-that stupid Spaniard on the bed.

Then I swallowed a lump and grabbed the ugly fabric of Antonio's onesie with both my hands, yanking him closer to me to press a hard, but… but _nicely_-meant kiss on his already curled-upwards lips.

'Y-you could have just… just _told _me so if… if you wanted a kiss, y-you know… you… y-you didn't have to… c-compliment me like that…' I mumbled right after the kiss, hastily releasing him when I felt he was carefully – but not carefully _enough_ – wrapping his arms around me.

'Ah, I wasn't complimenting you, though…' Antonio informed me, his voice a whisper.

I shuddered and gave him another swift kiss.

'S-stop it, y-you…'

Antonio chuckled, gently rubbing his thumb over my trembling lips.

'Stay here, Lovino. I know you want to. Please, I won't do anything "bad" to you, sweetie, I _promise_. Just stay with me.'

I stiffly pressed my lips together and stubbornly shook my head, pushing his hand away.

'…right now, I-I'm not worried about _you _doing anything "bad" to _me_, d-dammit…'

And before Antonio's ancient mental capacity had translated to him what I meant with those words, I already had let go of him and sprinted out of the room, as fast as I could, because if he had said only _**one**_ more endearing and/or kind word, I would've jumped back into the bed with him and _never_ let go of him for the rest of the night, not even _once_.

S-so it was a good thing I left, really…

…

R-_really_.

**XxX**

Believe it or not, but as soon as the Very Important Basic Rules for the also Very Important No Sex Pact had been discussed and set in, not a _single_ mention-worthy perverted accident happened anymore in the days that followed after that night.

Nope.

_None_.

…

None whatsoever.

…

Which was… perfect, of course. Just… just perfect.

I mean, it was a very _good_ thing we both were capable of withholding something as special and wonderful and enjoyable and great and addicting as sex for an admirable cause, and at least now we knew we… could actually _do_ something like this.

Who knows, it… could come in handy for… other situations.

Probably.

…

…

Not that I can… think of a few examples out of the blue now, but it _has_ to be.

…

Anyway…

So as I was saying, Antonio and I discovered over the past few days we could deny sex and all it's amazing forms pretty easily – as long as we _**strictly**_ followed the well-thought-out Very Important Basic Rules, which we _did_.

And although it was… kind of weird and uncomfortable at times to act like a couple of ridiculously inexperienced teenagers around each other, it also was…

…

…I-I don't know, it was… it was kind of _charming_.

In a silly, goofy, yet… yet very _lovable_ way.

For example, Antonio seemed to get even _more _motivated to make me feel special now that he could only touch me in a friendly, non-suggestive way.

He… h-he opened doors for me whenever I wanted to walk to _whatever_ room in his House and he did his best to cook the best dishes he could think of, just because he knew that _that_ meant I'd say "thank you" and smile to him and give him a small kiss in return.

…n-no, I never literally _said_ that to him – i-it was just a little something between the both of us, d-dammit.

Aside from the cooking and the door-opening, Antonio made a lot more… c-cute and innocent gestures towards me, like… l-like randomly bringing stupid little flowers from his garden to me, and… a-and asking me to walk hand-in-hand with him when we went out to go buy some bread, or… or even something as simple as just… having a drink with me on the veranda outside.

…

…I-I liked all of that a lot, yes.

…

N-naturally, I… I acted a bit nicer to him as well.

I… I helped him more with the cleaning in the house, I… s-somewhat complimented and hugged him more often than I usually did, and… and _if _there was any careful kissing going on, I was _always_ the one that initiated it, the one that started it, the one that had to make sure to keep it chaste, but still likable.

Easier than it seems, really – and that's why I actually saw this kind of kissing as a _practice_, to get better at… w-well, kissing. Not that I was _bad _at kissing – hell no! – but yeah, I admitted I could use some more exercises before I could compare the kisses I gave to the kisses _Antonio _gave.

Antonio didn't mind it at all and was happy to help me, of course. He even gave me feedback afterwards.

…

…i-it was always good feedback, though.

…

So yeah, even though it wasn't always easy to keep this strange little act up (and even though I've probably _never_ jerked off _this _often in just one week before), trying to live according to the Very Important Basic Rules was a challenging and sometimes even very _amusing_ thing to do.

Except for the nights.

I outright _hated_ the nights, because… well, because I was the kind of wuss that couldn't sleep without Antonio holding on to me.

And so, I… I had barely slept the past few night.

I most of the time just… lie there, in my former bed, in my former bedroom, staring at the ceiling and trying to drift off with all my might, but failing miserably, time after time.

Really exhausting – you've got _no_ idea. God, you should have seen the _bags_ under my eyes. They were just like Antonio's sloppy onesies, only less hideous.

And now, now I was about to enter my already _sixth_ Antonio-free night, a night that would be filled with tiresome sighing and reddened eyes and wondering if I should just grab a hammer from Antonio's shelter (in case you're keeping notes, _yes_, Antonio's shelter is a wonderful little shank, it's stuffed with _lots _of shit that keeps small children and South American nations awake at night) to knock myself out with it…

BUT!

I actually had found a good alternative thing instead of tormenting myself to kill time now.

**xXx**

Antonio gave me a concerned and skeptical look as I sat myself on the couch in the living room and turned on the television at the same time.

'So… you're going to watch television for the rest of the night?'

'I… I _am_, yes…' I nodded sleepily, determinedly wrapping a blanket around me and forcing back a long, deep yawn.

'Shouldn't… it be better if you went to bed?' Antonio suggested. '…you don't want your insomnia to come back full force, do you?'

I froze up a bit. I had been telling him I had actually slept fairly _good_ for the past nights to soothe his worried thoughts about my sleeplessness, so I had to watch out with what I said – _especially _because I suspected Antonio to be aware of my lie.

I don't know. It was the way he _frowned_, I guess. All "yeah, like _hell_ you sleep at night, you lying little sneak" –like.

…

Untrusting bastard.

'_Tch_!' I heard myself scoff at him, pulling the blanket around me tighter, '…I think I'm old enough to know what's good for me and what's not, don't you think so?'

'I suppose…' Antonio slowly said.

'And you know how much I love this show.'

I pointed to the screen.

'_Really_ now?'

Antonio looked at the flailing noisy people running around on the screen. Then he made a _heh_-like noise.

'What's it about, then?'

'…what?'

'The show, Lovi. The show.'

'…um…'

I glanced at the screen for a minute.

'…people?'

'What _kind_ of people?'

'…_annoying _people?'

'Lovino…' Antonio sighed, leaning a bit on the couch, '…what are you _doing_, my love…'

'_Shush_! I'm watching the annoying people, dammit!' I insisted, now completely focusing on the flickering television.

Antonio didn't fall for it.

'Just come to bed with me, Lovi. We're going to Rome tomorrow and I _really_ think you could use at least _one _night of sleep.'

'B-but I sleep perfec—'

'Like _hell_ you sleep at night, you lying little sneak.'

See? Told you so.

'…I-I'm doing just _fine_, dammit…' I murmured, not giving up even though I knew very well it was a useless struggle, '…a-and as long as this show's on, I'm not going _anywhere_.'

'Oh, is that so? Alright then.'

Antonio suddenly let go of the couch and walked out of the room without saying anything.

I watched him leave confusedly.

'H-hey! Where do you think you're going? Come back here!'

Antonio answered something, but I couldn't hear it. It annoyed me _immensely_, but just when I wanted to snarl what the fucking hell he was saying, I heard a loud _click. _Immediately after that, allthe lights in the room abruptly shut off, just like the TV and the DVD-player, effectively shrouding all of my surroundings in complete darkness.

'What the…' I muttered, blinking my (oh so _heavy_) eyes, '…Antonio, what's the meaning of this!'

'Oh, nothing to worry about – I just shut off the power.' Antonio calmly responded, and I heard him approaching my couch again.

I had to squeeze my eyes to little splits to be able to see at least a bit of the Spaniard and as soon as I saw him appearing right in front of me, I glared at him.

'Why did you do that?'

No matter how dark it was, I could still see his taunting smile.

'Well, I had to think of _something _to end your show.'

I made a face. 'By shutting off the power? That's stupid.'

'It works perfectly though. So now you're coming with me.'

I started shaking my head and sputtering and pushing his arms – that seem to be _everywhere_ – away, but it was no use: all those night of hardly any sleep _really_ kicked in now and I was too weak and sleepy and _eager_ to stop him from lifting me off the couch.

'N-no, stop it, put me back, dammit…' I mumbled, still complaining and struggling a little bit as Antonio pulled me closer to him and carried me – fucking _bridal _style, what the flying fuck was _that_ – up the stairs.

'Lovino, do you want us to fall down the stairs?' Antonio asked when I halfheartedly slapped and pounded my fists against his chest.

'N-no, b-but—'

I stopped hitting him and swallowed heavily when he slowly ran a gentle hand through my hair.

'We're almost there, sweetie.'

…

T-that felt nice… but then again, his whole _person _felt nice. Especially in the state I was in now. God, I had missed his smell and his body against mine during the night so much… so, so very much…

'Y-you're not playing fair, y-you… you…'

I forgot what I was saying and uttered a delighted sigh as Antonio carefully pressed my barely awake face _flush_ against his chest – a-and really, all I could do was just… just shut my eyes and make the weirdest sounds that had to express my annoyance with all of this, although I doubt they were very convincing. I _really_ doubt it.

Finally, we reached our—no, his… n-no, _our_ bedroom again – and Antonio wasted no time in bringing me to the bed.

'This… this isn't good, you… we shouldn't do this, y-you… and I… we could do something bad… you know…' I muttered, willingly letting myself put down on the bed – with its soft, _wonderful _sheets, oh _god_, so _comfortable_ – and giving him a suspicious and drowsy glare as he slid himself right next to me, wrapping the sheets and his arms around me protectively.

'A-Antonio, you…'

'Sssh, Lovi.'

He put a hand behind my head and kissed me full on the mouth for a while, shutting me up.

'Not going to do anything, my love… I'm already very happy to have you here in my arms…' he reassured me afterwards, smiling into my cheek before peppering it with quick, relieved kisses.

Then he paused the kissing and sighed, closing his eyes.

…

It… it was amazing, really, but right then, I almost _immediately_ felt my entire body relax as I listened to Antonio's quiet way of breathing in and out. It was like a _huge _blanket of fucking_ rest_ was draped over me and _oh_, so _this _was what drifting off felt like again…

With the last bit of strength I still had left somewhere in me, I somewhat opened my eyes again and huffed, grabbing the front of his stupid onesie – still wearing it, wasn't he – to… t-to shamelessly snuggle against him.

'…I-I love you.'

Antonio stirred and I couldn't help but smile when his lips touched my forehead.

'…ah, I love you too…'

'…n-night.'

'Goodnight, my love…'

He gave me a light, loving squeeze.

'…good night indeed…'

And then everything _finally _went black.

**xXx**

That night, I slept well.

But I _did _have a really unsettling dream about Feli and Germany, dropping by the next morning to pick us up so that we could go to Rome together, "like a big and happy family, veeeeee!~".

…

Yeah _right_. Big and happy family, my _ass_.

Thank _god_ it was just a dream. I mean, there was _no_ _way_ Germany the Potato-Bastard would make a detour to Spain like that.

…

Right?

_Right?_


	50. Hams

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: When I saw that this fic had received over__** 2,000 fucking reviews **__last Sunday-morning, I was about to squeal, fall off my chair, race downstairs and jump up the kitchen table on which my parents were having breakfast, just to scream 'OMG, OVER 2,000 REVIEWS, OVER 2,000 REVIEWS, FUCK YEAH!~' and kick the butter off the table…  
_…_but in the end, I didn't do it. I mean, it would have freaked my parents out. Not __**that**__ much – they know me, after all – but still. Just imagine what kind of conversation had followed after my declaration of love to all of my reviewers:  
__Mom: 'So you have over 2,000 reviews?'  
__Me: 'YES – AREN'T YOU PROUD!~'  
__Mom: 'Of course I'm proud, but how did you get those "reviews"? And what are reviews anyway?'  
__Me: 'Oh, reviews are comments of people who've read the smutty fic about a couple of gays I've been writing for __**almost a year**__ now!~'  
__Dad: *spills his coffee all over the table*  
_XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD _Naaaaaah, they wouldn't understand, heh…_^^;;;  
_Thank you all for supporting me so much up to this point. You proved to me just how great and especially __**rewarding**__ it is to write fanfiction for you. Really – there are no words to express my happiness…  
__So I made a cake. Don't worry, I'm very good at making cakes (not as good as I am at making lasagna, but still). Want some? Of __**course**__ you want some! Well, here you go!~ You can have it! ALL OF IT! It's made of love! _8D

_A/n2: A couple of days ago, the Netherlands was hit by an earthquake. It was an extremely small one, however, so no one got hurt. I hadn't even noticed anything, heh…_^^;;;  
_Still, it was on the news and everybody kept talking about it ('That's right, my cabinet was __**shaking**__ a little bit!'), what only proves just how pathetic we all are here. _OTL  
_Oh well – it WAS kind of fun to hear everybody talk about it. We hadn't had an earthquake in 100 years, after all… _

_A/n3: Sorry for the slow review-replies... School's been haunting me and, well... I'm trying hard to reply to everyone, but please forgive me if you haven't received yours yet - I'm doing my best to give you them, I really am!... _OTL

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter L:

_**Silence of the Hams  
**__**(Insane Clown Posse)**_

Naturally, I could be wrong.

No, scratch the "could be" – I _am _wrong. Probably.

I mean, I usually am wrong when it's about horrible things that can happen to me, and let's face it: Feliciano and Germany picking me and Antonio up like the three of us were the best buds _ever, OMG, lets totally exchange friendship-rings!~_ was like a fucking _nightmare_ to me.

So _of course_ I expected it to happen.

And that's why I wasn't even _moderately_ surprised when I woke up the next morning by my always hair-pulling-annoyingly ringtone about the wonderfulness that are lollipops (why I still hadn't changed that damn homosexual ringtone yet was a huge faggy question mark to me) and saw Feliciano's name flashing up in the tiny screen.

'Oh _god_, the horror – it _begins now_…' I croaked – but softly, Antonio was still sleeping after all – and picked up my phone.

'…yeah, what's the matter, Felic—'

'_Hi big brother!~ Good mooooooorning!~'_

…

For a sickly nation, he _sure_ sounded strangely _healthy_.

I shuddered. '_God_, could you _please_ shut your fucking _face_, you damn _pillow-biter_, I just woke up!'

I could vividly picture the sad, helpless pout that was probably forming on Feliciano's face now.

GOOD.

'_Awwww… you're so cold, Lovi…' _Feliciano said after some incomprehensible mumbling.

'I'm not cold at all.' I snorted. 'I'm a very _warm_ and _affectionate_ person and I'll fucking kill everybody who dares to say otherwise.'

'…_are… are you going to kill me then?' _my brother asked, breathlessly.

'Damn _right_ I am – unless you pipe the fuck _down_ already.'

'_But I don't want to die yet! Veee… I'm too young, talented and pretty to die!'_

'And so _humble_, too.' I dryly remarked.

Feliciano ignore me and continued his wailing.

'_Also, who'll take care of Ludwig when I'm gone? Veee… Will you do it? You will, right? I mean, __**someone**__ has to give him his daily portion of wurst, you kno—'_

'Finish that line and I swear I _**will**_ slaughter you.'

'_Awwww… veee…'_

'And _stop _sounding like some spastic cat in heat with your "awwww" and "veee", dammit!'

'…'

'Better. _Much _better.'

Meanwhile, behind me, Antonio had started to wake up, making soft, groaning noises as he nuzzled my back and muttered things I didn't catch because my own fucking shirt was in the way.

'…mnhzzhgnmmnhg…~'

'_What's that?' _Feliciano immediately chirped.

'W-what's _what_!' I huffed, pushing Antonio's wandering fingers away from my chest.

'_Veee… Is that Big Brother-In-Law Toni? Are you two… __**doing**__ stuff right now?~'_

'No!' I snapped, 'We're no – _nghk!'_

I heard myself yelp a bit in surprise when the partly-unconscious Spanish moron hugged me a bit tighter – in all the _wrong _places, too – and I even had to clench my teeth together to keep myself _and_ my way of talking in control.

'_Ohhhhh…oh, I get it.' _Feliciano giggled. _'…veee, you know, if you want to, Ludwig and I could go away for a while and let you and Big Brother-In-Law Toni… finish…~ your…~ sexy times…~ in peace and quietness…~'_

'Feliciano, I'm _telling _you that's not it! W-we fucking _just _woke up!' I growled, glaring daggers at the now really awake Spaniard next to me, who confusedly stared back at me with sleepy, half-closed eyes ('…w-what, Lovi, what did I do?').

'_But you __**moooooaaaaaaaned**__, big brother…~' _Feliciano continued in a singsong-like voice, _'…and the last time I heard you __**mooooooaaaaan**__ like that was when I almost caught you and Big Brother-In-Law Toni in the act a couple of weeks ago…'_

I squinted my eyes.

'**Fuck** you, Feliciano.'

'You're talking to Feli?' Antonio then said, smiling fondly at me.

I frowned. 'No – I'm swearing the ever-loving _crap _out of him. Do you mind?'

'Ah…' Antonio let out a soft sigh, '…being his usual adorable yet annoyingly self again, isn't he?'

I didn't respond immediately, since I suddenly realized something.

…

Oh _fuck_, could it _be_?

Could the world be hating _this much _on me?

…

Did I _really _want an answer to that?

'I… I think…' I started carefully, looking at Antonio with big, startled eyes, '…I think he's _outside the House_ right now! With... **_Germany_**!'

Antonio blinked his eyes, not knowing what to say to my dramatic exclamation.

So in the end, he just smiled a bit more at me and kissed my cheek, hugging me again.

'Ah, you're so _cute_, so very _cute_, Lovi… Come here…~'

'S-stop it, I-I'm on the damn phone!' I hissed, but let him cuddle me anyway when I focused my attention on my horrible brother again.

'Feliciano, you… you just mentioned something about you and Germany, that you could go away for a while… right?'

'_Veee… yup!~ Want to take that offer?~'_

'Are you telling me you two freaks of nature are already _here_?'

'_I'm not __**telling **__it, I'm just very strongly __**suggesting**__ it!~' _Feliciano explained, _'…but yes, were here! Veee… Big Brother-In-Law Toni's gate is a mess, by the way, haha!~'_

I smacked a hand against my face. 'Unbelievable…'

'_You don't believe me? Oh, shall I sing that German children's song Ludwig taught me yesterday, then? It's so silly, it's counting to ten – in __**German**__! I sound so cool when I sing it!~ You have to stick your head out of the window if you want to hear it together with Luddy's wonderful singing voice too, though!~'_

'Oh god, _please_ don—'

'_See you in a second! Ciao!~'_

_Click!~_

And Feliciano hung up.

…

…

Well, only one more thing left to do, and I can't believe I was actually going to do it, too.

I groaned and gently pushed Antonio away from me, sitting up.

'Sorry to interrupt your rib-crushing hugtime, but I have to go admire a crappy concert made in fucking _Hell_. Which is Germany. At least, for _today_.'

The Spaniard gaped at me.

'What?'

'Feliciano and Germany. Outside.' I pointed to the window. 'They're going to sing for us. We are expected to watch them sing.'

He scratched his head. 'That's nice, but… _why_?'

'To prove they're here.'

'By _singing_?'

'By singing.'

'Can't they just… honk their car's claxon or something?'

'Don't be _ridiculous_, Antonio, that would be just _too_ _easy_. Now get off your ass and let's watch them make complete fools out of themselves. Come on, it'll be fun.'

'…I have a better idea.'

Antonio made a sniffing kind of sound, grabbed my shirt from behind and pulled me back into the bed with a short and simple tug.

'H-hey-!' I stuttered as I fell back into the pile of sheets, looking up at him with a scowl, '…why you damn—'

'You…' Antonio smiled, simply putting a finger on my lips to shut me up, '…stay _here_. Nice and warm in bed. Then I'll take care of Feli and come join you for a bit, alright?~'

I still scowled the hell out of my face. 'B-but we _have_ to get up, Hungary is probably already waiting for us in Ro—'

Antonio's face suddenly was _really _close to mine and my voice died in my throat as those shining green eyes stared at me persistently, yet friendly.

'_Stay_, Lovi. Please, I know what I'm doing, my love…'

'O-okay…' I stammered, my face glowing brightly as I sheepishly wrapped some sheets around me.

Yeah, I know, I could have said something like "whoa, that's a first" or something like that, but my sarcasm always faded away at times like this. I mean, Antonio telling me he knows what he's doing while _smiling_ at me like that? Fucking _hot_.

'Be right back.'

Antonio removed his finger and replaced it with his lips, kissing me sweetly for a second (well, maybe not for just a _second_ – he kissed me until my eyes started to drop a bit, that sly bastard), before pulling back and heading towards the window.

While he was still looking around down the window, my stupid brother had already noticed him, 'cause I heard him yelling at him with that awful, girlish voice of his.

'Veee… Big Brother-In-Law Toni!~ _Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_!~ Haha, you look so silly in those PJ's!~'

'Ah, good morning, Feli!~' Antonio tilded right back at him.

'Where's Lovino? I want to sing to him, too! We _both _want to sing to you and Lovi, riiiight, Luddy?'

A deep and tired and _ugly_ groan was heard – oh, sounds like _potato_.

'Ah, well, that's all really nice and sweet of you, Feli, wanting to sing for us in German, but it would be better if you two left us alone for… well, let's say, another hour. We still have to get ourselves ready, after all!~' Antonio said. His words weren't too bad, but his _tone _gave away that he was actually quite irritated to have those weirdoes in the garden, and who wouldn't.

'Ohhh…' Feliciano moped. '…but whyyy… veee, we have an appointment with Hungary, don't you know? She'll be mad if we don't arrive on time… unless you're busy having sex with my big brother! Then it's _a-okay _to be a bit later!~'

'In _that_ case, I'm having _tons _of sex with your big brother!~ Right, Lovino?'

Antonio made some odd gestures at me.

'You really disturb me sometimes, you know that?' I responded to that.

'I'm sorry – Lovi can't say anything right now since I've tied him to the bed in a _very_ nice position.' Antonio told Feli with an apologizing smirk.

Oh my _GOD_!

I wanted to jump up and scream it was a big fat lie and that I was going to kick the _hell_ out of that Spaniard, but when Antonio gave me a pleading look, I ultimately kept quiet and folded my arms, grumbling.

Perverted bastard.

His dirty lie worked, though: outside, Feliciano was chucking as if he just found out the biggest secret since…

…

…since finding out that sprinkling vinegar on weed between tiles caused them to die and rot away, what was a lot easier to do than going down on your knees with a silly little knife to remove them by hand.

What? It's _true_! You'll be amazed at how much time you'll save with that!

…

Anyway…

'Ohhh! Oh, I see… and I _knew _it, veee! Okay, then I'll tell Hungary we'll be a bit later, then!~' Feliciano yelled back at Antonio. 'And I guess Luddy and I go sightseeing around town for a bit, veee… is that okay?'

'That's _great_, Feli!' Antonio answered.

'Okay!~ Have fun molesting my big brother!~'

'Don't I _always _have fun molesting your big brother!~'

'Hahahaha!~'

'Ahahahaha!~'

'I swear to God I'll push you out of the freaking window _so fucking hard_ if you don't stop saying _shit_ right now,' I hissed dangerously, but that threat turned out to be unnecessary, because I soon heard the sound of a motor getting started outside. Furthermore, Antonio was retreating from the window.

'Well! Problem solved!~' he said triumphantly, crawling back into bed and pulling me and the sheets against him with a delighted sigh, '…ah, now let's sleep some more…'

'S-sleep some more?' I nagged, wiggling awkwardly in his grip, '…_hell_ no, we should get ourselves _ready_ now, you lazy, lying bastard!'

Antonio, who was busy nuzzling my chest, looked up at me, one eyebrow raised.

'How much time do you need to get yourself dressed, Lovi? An hour?'

I felt offended. 'Of course _not_, I'm not a fucking _girl_! But… w-well, I think I'll need at least 30 minutes… especially when I have to dress _you _as well.'

'Then we'll have a nice 30-minutes-nap, after which we'll get ourselves dressed.' he calmly stated.

'Wouldn't…' I uttered a sigh and stopped struggling, carefully running my fingers through his hair, '…wouldn't it be easier to get dressed right away? I mean… haven't you slept enough already?'

'_I _have.'

Antonio nodded, holding me a bit tighter and pressing his face against my chest insistently.

'…but _you _**haven't**. You haven't slept in _days_.'

I felt my face was getting redder again. 'I—'

'Last night, you slept even sooner than _I_ did. As soon as I had you in my arms, you drifted off. I've never seen you fall asleep _that _quickly before… god, you were _exhausted_, my love…'

I didn't say anything, I just bit my lower lip for a bit.

'So take this opportunity and have some more rest, sweetie…'

Antonio lifted his face and softly kissed my neck and chin, making me shiver.

'…please, if you don't want to do it for yourself, do it for _me_, then…'

I hesitated and frowned for a while, still combing my fingers through his curls as if the answer to his question was hidden somewhere in-between them, but then I gave in and nodded, moving myself a tad lower to wrap my arms around his head and hug him firmly.

'…h-hand over the alarmclock for a bit then, d-dammit…'

Antonio smiled and obeyed.

**xXx**

About half an hour later, Antonio and I indeed got out of bed - and I thank the wonder that is my alarmclock for that, since we'd probably have snored for the rest of the day (at least, _I_ would have done that) if that thing hadn't waken us up around half past nine.

Immediately after waking up, I knew what to do - I'm just that well organized. At times.

So I got myself out of the bed, moved the curtains of the windows to the side, snarled to Antonio (who, of course, was sleeping like a huge baby) to get the fuck out of bed and wash his face and _finally_, I took a dash to the big closet next to the mirror, using my incredibly wonderful _shwooping_ skills yet again to swing the doors open and select us some decent clothes.

I decided to keep it fairly simple, yet _stylish - _we were going to _Italy_, after all. _My _kind of country. Because it... _was _my country. Oh, you know what I mean, dammit.

As Antonio was sluggishly brushing his teeth in the bathroom, I threw some clothes he should wear on the bed: a fashionable yellow shirt with short sleeves (gave it as a present to him a few months ago but he had _never _worn it before since that oblivious idiot rather wore white or red) and some nice and _really tight, _yet good-fitting washed-out jeans and some... well, sneakers. Just like all of the other clothes, I didn't know what kind of brand they were (Antonio had bought the shoes himself and never bothered remembering the brand-name), but their red color went well with the rest of his outfit, so whatever.

For myself, I chose a cool dress shirt with a casual black tie and some black pants I knew Antonio loved. He had never really said that to me, but he sure liked studying my ass whenever I wore those pants. Last but not least, I had planned to wear really _manly _shoes and an even _manlier _pair sunglasses (I scored those in a really dingy shop somewhere in Madrid once but I regret _nothing_ since they looked _fantastic _on me).

…

You're probably already aware of it, but in case you haven't noticed it yet, _no_, we didn't and _couldn't_ wear clothes from expensive brands anymore, since we were too fucking _poor_ to afford them.

Also, we've sold all of our clothes that actually _did _have a brand on internet to people from other countries, so that our own countries could… well, get a little money.

And _yes_.

Selling my wonderful expensive fashionable shit was fucking _horrible_.

But my brother's/fiancé's well-being meant more to me.

…

What, it _did_!

Good thing my sense of fashion was also _flawless _with brand-names that were… no brand-names.

So yeah, in the end, I still looked sharp as hell.

_Sad_, but sharp.

…

It's _something_.

…

Anyway…

I nodded, not-unsatisfied as I looked at the clothes on the bed.

_Damn_, brand-names or no brand-names, we'd still look fucking _perfect_ if we wore this.

'Ohh, that looks nice, Lovino!~ Just leave it up to you to think of cool combinations like this!' Antonio then suddenly said somewhere behind me, making me jump up in surprise.

'I-it's not a matter of thinking of _combinations_, it's a _way of life_. And I'll fucking punch you in the nose if you sneak up on me like that again.' I huffed, shoving the clothes in his arms, '...n-now, get yourself dressed.'

'Wow, yellow! It's been such a long time since the last time I wore yellow!' Antonio looked at the shirt in amazement, '...ah, I wonder why...'

'So do I. Your skin has a really nice tan, so yellow looks great on you.' I said with a stern expression - since I was _very _serious about it. I mean, we were talking about _fashion_. Fashion was _serious_ _business_.

The Spaniard looked from the shirt to my straight face and couldn't withhold a laugh.

'God, you're so _adorable _when you're acting like a homo so shamelessly, Lovi!~'

'Wh-wha...' I looked at him utterly _shocked, _'...I'm _not!_'

'What not?~' Antonio cooed, slipping into the shirt, '...not adorable or not a shamless homo?~'

'Neither!' I snarled, putting on my dress shirt (a bit roughly) as well.

'I think you're _both_, though...~'

'W-well, not for long!'

'Are you planning on turning heterosexual, then?'

_'Yes_!' I looked at him, straight in the eyes, '...at least, for today!'

Antonio paused in putting his pants on - something I didn't mind - and I saw something like worry flash over his face.

'What do you mean, Lovino?'

I zipped my pants and gave him a reassuring smile (and yes, that probably looked really strange, but fuck you).

'Okay - first of all, stop give me that kicked-puppy-look, I'm not saying I'm going to get all angsty again and deny my strange interest in men - let's face it, that would be a bit _pointless -_ I'm just saying that I'm going to try to _act_ like a straight guy today - and I think you should do that, too.'

'Why?' Antonio cocked his head to the side.

'Because we're going to _Italy_.' I said, walking to the mirror and fixing my tie. '...you _know _how Italians think about homosexuality and such.'

'So...' Antonio frowned, fumbling with the seam of his shirt - that indeed looked _great _on him, '...you're saying we shouldn't act like... we _are_ today? After putting me in _this _shirt?'

I glared at him over my shoulder and beckoned him to come closer so that I could help him straightening his shirt.

'There's _nothing _wrong with that shirt, so shut up.' I growled. '...and yes. Yes, I _am _saying we shouldn't act like we are.'

Antonio's face fell. 'But that means...'

'That means we can't act like lovers or fags or _whatever_ that could question our sexual orientation.'

'You say it like it's a _bad_ thing.' Antonio sulked, watching me correcting the folds in his clothes.

'Th-that's not true, I'm just being _realistic _here!' I protested, jolting my face up, '...I know the world is getting more and more accepting towards... well, _everything_, but like _hell _we're getting out of Rome alive if we start acting like some fucking lovebirds there!'

'Ah...' He sighed.

'Really, Antonio... why...' I sighed as well, '...why do you think Feliciano and I rather stay at... at our lover's Houses than our own? Germany's nation is a lot more accepting towards gay people and your nation is even _more _tolerant, allowing even same-sex marriages and such. Italy... Italy is _different_.'

'Italy has become more tolerant as well.' Antonio believed.

'Yes - on fucking _paper_.' I exhaled slowly. 'Sure, it's _legal _to be gay in Italy, but don't think they're waiting for dozens of male and/or female couples to be walking hand in hand in public.'

'That's... well, that's too bad...' Antonio said, finally giving up.

'So I think we should act like friends.' I continued.

'_Best _friends?' Antonio asked hopefully.

I rolled my eyes, heading back to the mirror to check my hair. 'Yeah, best friends, _whatever_. It's still miles away from... what we act like _normally_.'

I looked in the mirror and saw Antonio looking gloomily at the small silver band around his right ringfinger.

'That means we can't wear these either, right...'

I stopped with doing my hair - it was a lost cause anyway - and looked at my own ring, on my left ringfinger, with mixed feelings.

'...I think it's probably better if we don't, yes.'

'I don't like it.' Antonio sounded frustrated as he slid the ring off. 'I don't like it at all, but you're probably right.'

...

I hated it when he sounded this low-spirited.

'H-hey, you should try to look at the bright side!' I tried to cheer him up, giving him my ring as well (which _really_ wasn't helping my sad attempt to cheer him up).

He gave me an odd look.

'...look at the bright side? _How_?'

'I-I don't know, I'm... only saying you should look at the bright side.' I muttered stupidly. 'W-whatever _that_ is.'

...

Antonio stared at me with such a blank, sour expression that he actually reminded me of... well, _me_.

Not sure if that was a good thing. Probably not.

'W-well, anyway...' I eventually said, trying not to think about that _retarded_ comment of mine, '...at least we won't be the _only_ persons who'll have to act like something other than lovers - Feliciano and his potato-munching fiancé will most likely have the same problem as us.'

'Probably...' Antonio mused, putting the rings away on the low, antique cabinet in two black, velvet boxes that I hadn't seen before.

'H-hey...' I stood next to him, put my hands on the small cabinet and blinked, observing him carefully installing the rings in their boxes, '...I-I didn't know you actually had velvet boxes as well for those rings...'

At last, a weak smile broke through on his face.

'Ah, silly Lovi. Of _course_ I had bought the boxes as well, I just had to leave the boxes somewhere else on the night I proposed to you - they were too big for my pockets.'

'They're nice, though. They look cool.' I smiled a bit as well, blushing just a little bit as our eyes met.

'I'm... I'm glad you think so as well.' Antonio said after a short silence, not looking away.

We should have reacted quite pissed off when at that point _someone _(and I already know _who_) started passionately violating the doorbell, but I think we both had already expected something like this to happen and didn't even _groan_ as the annoying _ding-dong_ sound echoed through the House.

'Ah. Sounds like Feli and Germany are back.' Antonio said.

I nodded. 'Yes. We should go.'

'We should.' Antonio agreed, before talking my hands in his and pulling me closer, '...but not before acting like a fag for at least one last time this day.'

I had to chuckle and nodded again.

'W-well, okay then... one last time.'

And so we shared a few innocent kisses, which were _wonderful _and _gentle _and _very enjoyable_... until Feliciano's _outstanding _doorbell-qualities forced us to pull away and go downstairs.

**xXx**

'Veee... hi Lovi, hi Big Brother-In-Law Toni! You ready to go? Ludwig's waiting in the car for us!~'

The smiling, bubbly face of Feliciano beamed a _thousand_ smiles at me and Antonio as we opened the door and stood face to face with...

...a _girl_.

Yes, a _girl_.

No way that... that _thing _in that _extremely_ short, sleeveless green dress could pass as a man, no matter how much it _sounded _as my brother.

'F-Feli...' Antonio's eyes got huge as he stared at the thing that sounded like my brother but looked like a girl, '...you... you're wearing...'

'You're wearing a _dress_?' I helped Antonio with a disgusted hiss, sounding a bit like a snake, actually, '...my _god_, what the fuck were you _thinking_, Feliciano?'

'What?' Feliciano - it was no use, it really _was _him after all - looked at me with a confused expression, plucking a bit on his _oh so very __**short**_, so _sinfully __**short**_ dress before _twirling _around in it, '...don't you like it, big brother? Don't I look pretty?~ Veee...'

'You look _wonderful_, Feli!' Antonio answered in all honesty, right before getting a hard kick against his shins ('_Ouch_, Lovi!').

Feliciano grinned excitedly and started babbling with Antonio about the niceness of France the Fuckface ('Veee... it was so nice of Big Brother France to let me lend this green babydoll-dress for today!~'), during which conversation I observed him with _terror_.

He really looked like a girl. Oh _god_, did that guy look like a girl. A really _flat_ girl, yes, but still - he was a girl, no matter how you looked at him - unless you looked under that skirt, of course.

He wore a green, babydoll-like dress, some creepy, white tights that almost reached his - yes - thighs, a brow _wig _and blue... I don't know, ballet shoes or something, something like that...

'The _fuck_, Feliciano!' I expressed my discontent in his clothes once again, interrupting Antonio's praising stream of words, '...why! _Why _are you... just _why!_'

'Ah, because we're going to Italy, big brother!~' Feliciano explained - and started giggling. '...veee, it sounds so silly, saying that we're going to Italy while we _are _Italy, hahaha!~'

'But you look like a _girl!_' I stated the obvious, poking his face, '...I mean, just _look _at you! Why did you do that! What's the reason behind it! Aren't you scared you catch a fucking cold like this? And you're _already_ feeling ill! Or... wait, is this one of Germany's perverted sex-fantasies?'

My stupid younger brother frowned.

'Veee... that are a _lot_ of questions, Lovi... but I can tell you that Ludwig isn't really into cross-dressing - something with an awkward misunderstanding that happened to him in the past. It's a sensitive subject, though - don't talk to him about it, please...'

'It _still _doesn't explain the dress, Feliciano.' I snorted, me and Antonio following him as he started walking - no, _frolicking_ away.

'No? But it's so _obvious_!' he whined, giving me a lipglossy pout, '...you _really _think the people in Rome would like it if we went to Italy as homosexuals? Veee... I don't think so!~ They'd _glare _at us! It'd be _scary_! So that's why I decided to disguise myself as a girl!~'

'Oh, I get it!' Antonio said, '...that way, you and Germany can still act as lovey-dovey as you want, even in Rome!~'

'Veee, _exactly_!~' Feliciano smiled proudly. 'When in Rome, act like the Romans!~ The _female_ ones!'

'What a great idea, Feli!~'

'Right?~'

'Why didn't we come up with something like that?' Antonio said, glancing at me.

I had expected it and _immediately_ glared _daggers _back at him.

'I _tell _you why! Because no fucking _way_ I'm going to squeeze myself into a damn dress and destroy that tiny bit of self-respect I still have!'

'But Lovi...' Antonio stammered, '...you'd make a _beautiful _girl... and at least we can still act like lovers if we go to Rome with you dressed as a woman...'

'I don't _care _I look good as a girl! I'm _not _one and I don't want to pretend I'm someone I'm not!' I snapped at him.

Antonio scowled.

'That's a bit hypocrite, don't you think, Lovino? Saying you don't want to pretend to be someone else while wanting to go to Rome as a straight person…'

'That's… that's something completely different!'

'No, it's not!'

'It _is!_'

'It's not!'

'I'm _telling _you it i—'

'Veee, okay, okay!~ Easy now, you don't have to fight for it, you can _both _see my ring as much as you want!~' Feliciano suddenly chirped, rubbing a _giant _tomato-shaped thing in my face.

This unwelcome interruption caused me and Antonio to quit our bickering (and in my case to punch my brother's cheek as well), but as we approached Germany's car more and more after all of this, I could tell Antonio was still pretty annoyed. He had his hands stuffed away in his pockets, didn't say much and… and it had been a _long_ time since the last time I saw his eyebrows hanging _this _low on his face.

…

As… as I said before, I didn't like seeing him like this, so it wasn't before too long (=when Feliciano started concentrating more on how to get to Germany as fast as humanly/_nationly_ possible than on the two of us) I was fed up with this uncomfortable tension and cleared my throat, nonchalantly shuffling a bit more towards him.

'A-Antonio.'

He didn't answer, he just gave me a look from which I couldn't read or determine his current feelings.

'Are you mad at me or something?' I asked, hoping I hid the worried tone in my voice well enough.

Antonio's scowl faded away a bit and he smiled faintly at me.

'Why do you think I'm mad at you, sweetie?'

Just hearing him calling me "sweetie" was a huge relief to me and I resisted the urge to sigh in delight.

'W-well, you look mad.' I muttered. '…and you usually don't have a lot of reasons to get mad, unless it's something I said or did.'

I felt he came a bit closer.

'Ah, don't worry – I'm not mad at you, Lovi. It just frustrates me a bit that… your brother and Germany are able to have a romantic day out, while we are forced to act as friends. I'm not saying you should wear a dress – although I still say you'd look _stunning_ in one – I'm just saying it's… not fair. They should have dressed themselves normally, too.'

'Feliciano always had troubles with acting and dressing normally, though.' I remarked haughtily.

That made Antonio laugh and take one of his hands out of his pockets, taking my own hand.

'Thank you. You always know how to cheer me up.'

'I do?' I eyed him weirdly.

'Yes.' He nodded resolutely, lifted our connected hands and pressed a swift kiss on mine. 'Especially when you're not aware of it.'

**xXx**

Antonio's mood was a very strange thing. It was affected by the smallest things and even though I really don't want to brag, I know I had a big influence on it, possibly the biggest influence of all, which was kind of cool and could come in handy.

Did I wanted Antonio to feel happier? I'd try my best to make him feel happier. Did I want to make him feel loved? I'd try my best to make him feel loved. Did I want to make him horny? I…

…

Well, I really didn't have to do a lot for that, actually.

But in my case, it was a bit different. He had a lot of impact on my mood as well, of course, but my surroundings and unplanned happenings also knew to break/build my spirit – and once that had happened, it was a _lot_ more difficult to make me feel better/worse.

That's why Antonio was probably already wondering what he could do to improve the situation for me when Feliciano told me, right before reaching Germany _plug-ugly _grey _Volkswagen_ (don't know what type – I didn't want to mingle too much with _German_ brands), that we, as in he, Germany, Antonio and I, had to travel to Italy together.

In _**one **_car_._

Correction, in one greyish _VOLKSWAGEN._

You know, in order to save some money.

…

…

Seriously, I felt like throwing up when I heard that.

Feliciano clacked his tongue in disappointment when he saw my horrified face and patted the roof of the giant car.

'Veee… really big brother, what's the big deal? What's so horrible about the four of us, travelling to Rome together?'

'Do you _have_ a week of two?' I responded sarcastically, narrowing my eyes and backing off when my brother's potato-loving lover got out of the car and looked at Antonio and me in turns, nervously nodding a bit.

'Hum. Hello, Spain.'

'Good morning, Germany!' Antonio answered with a grin.

The German smiled the smallest of smiles back at Antonio, before focusing his attention to me.

'Good morning, Romano.'

I couldn't think of something to say to him that _wasn't _offensive or just downright _mean_, so I chose the best option and just… said nothing at all.

It's not that I didn't _want _to act like a douche to the blonde bastard, it's just that I felt like… I should act a bit more mature to the person that was going to be my – oh _god _– brother-in-law. Besides, if he knew to make Feliciano happy, there had to be _something _good about him.

Even though it was _ridiculously_ easy to make Feliciano happy. I mean, just make the guy/girl/thing some pasta. That's it.

Still, I kept quiet and behaved myself.

I did glare, though. Very much so. If looks could kill, he (and most of the world, probably) would have been as dead as a fucking doornail now.

'Um…'

Germany hesitated, looking at Feliciano for a minute (who nodded encouraging at him) before taking a deep breath and continuing his poorly-started sentence, taking a few steps forwards.

'…congratulations, you two. On getting engaged, I mean. Marriage is always a very joyous occasion, so I'm happy for you and hope your life together will be wonderful.'

He carefully reached out a trembling, gloved hand to me and Antonio, pursing his lips a bit.

Naturally, I _scowled _at the hand, but Antonio grabbed his hand with both of his own, giving him a warm and firm handshake.

'That's so nice of you! Thank you, Germany! Likewise! I hope you and Feli will become very happy together, even happier than you two already are, and I bet our weddings will be fantastic!~'

Germany had gotten used to strange persons invading his personal space after getting to know Feliciano – that guy didn't even recognize privacy if it bit him in his girlish flat chest – but I could tell he really wasn't at ease with Antonio's face just mere centimeters away from his own – and neither was I, actually, since the only face that should be close with Antonio's was _mine_.

Feliciano read the atmosphere _completely _differently, of course, and all of a sudden tackled Germany and Antonio from behind, shouting "veee!~" and "group hug, group hug!~" while crying tears of joy for having such a tightly-knit band with his family and friends.

'I haven't seen you in weeks and if _we _are all of your friends, you're even more pathetic than I thought.' I said to that, but was ignored by all.

…

Except for Antonio, who gave me a pleading look that could've either meant "please stop acting like such a sourpuss" or "the minute everybody stops paying attention to us, I'm going to rip that cheap dress shirt off you faster than you can say _mama mia_, you hot piece of man~".

…

Of course, the latter thing _could_ have been a result of my growing sexual frustration.

Or _not_.

You never know.

'Okay!~' Feliciano let go of both Antonio and Germany – the latter looking _very _relieved to _finally_ be able to push Antonio's face out of his chest – and pointed to the car like a damn _showgirl _would point at a car.

'Veee… now that we are ready to go, shall we… go?'

'Yes!' The potato man quickly agreed, clearing his throat, '…you are right, we should probably go. Right now. To Rome. In Italy. Yes.'

And he _dived _into the car, leaving me and those two morons to decide on where to sit.

'Veee… I think,' Feliciano suggested, 'that all of the _girls_ should sit on the backseats!~'

With that having said, he opened the door and slid on the backseat, giggling uncontrollably.

…

'You _fail_, Feliciano.' I remarked to him icily. 'You fail at _everything_, but especially at _life_.'

…

I still sat next to him, though.

'_NOT _because I think I'm like a motherfucking _GIRL_, you hear?' I snapped to EVERYONE in the car, '…it's just that I _don't _want to sit next to that potato-head.'

'You tell them, sister!' Feliciano cheered.

…

**xXx**

After violently stomping Feliciano's foot and turning my face to one of the (admittedly very _clean_) windows with the purpose of not-speaking to _anybody _until we were in Italy, we were finally on our way to Rome.

And with "we", I mean a way too serious German paying close attention to the _suckish_ roads of Spain, a way too excited Spaniard sticking his head out of the window like some damn _dog_, and two Italians, of which one was a fucking transvestite and the other one doomed _forever_.

It must have been a hilarious sight.

Or a _traumatizing _one.

…

Either way, this was going to be one hell of a trip.


	51. Cakes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Are you the kind of person who always, ALWAYS thinks the worst of everything? Like, when the news says something about an accident that has happened somewhere around, you __**immediately**__ think that one of your relatives/friends has been killed/wounded in that same accident? Or when they say something creepy about asteroids, you __**immediately **__think the world won't make it to the next day?  
__No? Well, I __**am **__that kind of person. And let me tell you one thing – it sucks to be anxious about so many things at the same time, ALL the time. It bugs me, really. I'm freaked out by so many things lately, it's starting to get really annoying. But I don't know what I can do about it. I only know that writing and reading a lot helps a bit, but that's about it.  
__Does anybody recognize this? Or does anybody have some advice or tips for me? Please tell me if you have, because really, if this keeps up, I won't get a lot of sleep, I'm afraid. And I NEED my sleep… Ugh… _:(

_A/n2: Okay, let's move on to a lighter subject… In this chapter, Lovi and Co. are going to Rome and have one hell of a time there._^^ _I'm convinced they'll have a great time, it's Rome, after all! But yeah, since I'm always too busy sulking over school and such, I've never had the opportunity to go to Italy/Rome… Still, you __**bet**__ I'd love to wander around there sometimes… Such a beautiful country/city._^^ _I wish I can visit it one time…_

_A/n3: Um… I promised some/most of you that Lovi will make an appearance in a dress in this chapter, but, hey, guess what – I ended up rambling again (what a surprise, so unexpected!), so… sorry – next week, for sure. I hope. Because I really, REALLY want to write Lovi in a dress again. I even have the style for his dress in my mind already, hurr…_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LI:

_**Soul Cake  
**__**(Sting**__**)**_

A trip from Madrid to Rome.

From Spain to Italy.

From one capital city to the other one.

…

It sounded like such an easy, quick and simple thing to do, especially in comparison to the other trips to other cities I had already made for the past couple of weeks. I mean, Spain and Italy were lying kind of close to each other (if only that French fuckface could get out of our way, dammit) and that thought pleased me a _lot_, if only because of the fact it reminded me of Antonio and me.

Spain and Italy almost touching…

It… it just had a romantic ring to it. And I liked romantic rings.

BUT.

Today, I found out the hard way it actually WASN'T that easy, quick, simple (and _certainly _not _romantic_) to travel from Spain to Italy.

Want to know why? Of course you want to know why.

Well, during (most of) the other trips, I traveled _alone_. Completely and utterly _alone_, with no whining brother/sister/thing or solemn potato or dimwitted lover in the same vehicle that annoyed the _crap_ out of me - and that's _exactly_ why almost all those other times, it had been just me, Antonio's lame excuse for a car (that reminded me – America still had to return it, that blonde douchebag) and Mika— I-I mean, the radio, playing _cool_ and _manly_ songs like _Born To Be Wild _and _Sex On Fire_.

…n-not… _Love Today_ or _Kiss Me. _Especially not _Kiss Me._ Song is _made _of fag.

Like Feliciano's dress.

No, forget "dress" – like _Feliciano_, I mean. _Just_ Feliciano. No strings/dresses attached.

…

But moving on.

As Germany, Feliciano and Antonio got themselves ready to go (that's right, I lied before, since we actually hadn't even really _left yet_ because Germany had to stop right before leaving Antonio's gate to check if all of the locks on the doors still worked, and Feliciano suddenly remembered he had to _fucking pee,_ and Antonio couldn't find his seatbelt for some reason), it _immediately_ became painfully clear to me that this trip was going to be the most dreadful and horrible and terrible and awful and oh-god-please-kill-me-now trip _ever_.

Especially when I saw that bunch of _losers _around me acting like… like…

Like… fucking _headless chickens._

YES.

Seriously, I was the _only_ _one_ who had actually been _ready_ right from the start. I had visited the toilet, I knew how to wear my seatbelt, and I didn't have to freak out because the back door of the Potatowagen didn't lock as it was supposed to lock according to the stupid little German-Potato-Baumkuchen car-manual or _whatever _that yellow book Germany was flipping through was.

So now, here I was, sitting in the grey car with a massive scowl on my face as I looked at Germany studying the manual ('Hmmm… I think everything should work now that I've done this and that…') and Antonio, scratching his head and looking around him like the stupid moron he was ('Okay, if _I _was a seatbelt… where would I hide?').

…

No, I _couldn't_ look at Feliciano, since he was busy pissing somewhere.

And like _hell _I'd want to see him struggling with his very homosexual dress while peeing and making a mess out of one of Antonio's many, _many_ toilets.

…

Huh…

Maybe, if I hoped hard enough for it, he'd accidentally flush his entire dress…

'Veee… here I am again!~'

Oh.

My daydream was brutally taken down when a mere second later, Feliciano flopped down next to me again, his dress still intact and poofy as poofy could be, maybe even _poofier_ than poofy.

…

Well, that's just wonderful.

Feliciano grinned happily at me as he slammed the door shut.

'Okay!~ I'm back! We can go now!'

'Seatbelt, Feliciano.' Germany's low voice instructed.

'Where?' Antonio asked.

'What?' Feliciano asked.

'Just put on your fucking seatbelt!' I snarled at my brother, pushing him against the back of the seat and pulling the damn seatbelt over his squirming figure.

'Ouch, Lovi!' Feliciano complained – but complied anyway, '…veee… don't be so rough with me, big brother, you'll wrinkle my dress!'

Antonio gasped and turned around. 'Oh _god_, _not_ the dress!'

'Please put on your seatbelt, Spain.' Germany informed Antonio as well, who looked at him sheepishly.

'…um, like I said, I don't know where it is, ahaha…'

'It's right there.'

'Where?'

Germany exhaled slowly. '_There_, Spain. Where it's supposed to be. Next to your chair.'

'But it's _not_ _there_!' Antonio insisted.

'What the fuck?' I said, sitting up and pushing Feliciano's swaying head out of the way to look for myself, '…shit, you're right, it's not there! But it _has _to be there! Where else could it be!'

'Maybe it's still in Germany…' Antonio mused.

Feliciano started to laugh. 'Veee, Big Brother-In-Law-Toni, you're so _disgusting_!~'

'Feliciano, cut it out. I know the seatbelt has to be on its original spot and I'm _not_ leaving until everyone's wearing their seatbelt.' Germany said, folding his arms and seemingly impervious to the piercing glare I sent his way, _straight through_ the rear mirror or whatever that thing was called.

'But he doesn't _have_ a damn seatbelt! And we have a fucking _appointment_!' I exclaimed, reluctantly beginning a "conversation" with the stubborn German, '…an appointment with _Hungary_! Do you _want_ to make her mad or something?'

The blond man huffed. 'Certainly not. I'm very much aware of her… hum… moodswings. But I'm not going to break the law. The law is _sacred_.'

'You know what you should _do_ with that fucking law of yours?' I growled.

'Language, Lovi…' Antonio clacked his tongue.

'_He_ started it! With his stupid seatbelt and law and shit!' I nagged, pointing to Germany while pouting like the adult I was.

Germany frowned. 'I'm just saying I'm not planning to pay for any bills.'

'Why not?' I snorted. '…you're _German_, you have more than enough money, you can pay for _any _bill!'

'Not planning to do that for you, though.'

I jumped up. 'What was that?'

'Um, Lovi…' Antonio looked at me nervously, '…could you please behav…'

'Shut up, Antonio!' I snapped.

'Yes, and please put on your seatbelt, Spain.' Germany added.

'Hey! Don't finish my sentence!' I protested.

'But I don't have a seatbelt!' Antonio said.

'You _do_ have a seatbelt.' Germany responded.

'Well, _you _tell me where it is, then!'

'It's there.'

'Where?'

'There.'

'Where?'

'Veee_ere it is!~'_

All of a sudden, Feliciano pulled out Antonio's carefully hidden seatbelt out of something that seemed like a secret stash (WHAT.) and grinned broadly at our three blank, flabbergasted, _hating_ faces.

'Veee! Fooled all of you, _all three _of you even, haha!~ Tadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, here it is!~ Man, you should've seen your faces, you looked so silly!~'

…

…

**xXx**

Naturally, the three of us decided right then and there to attack Feliciano with his own dress and tie his wrapped-up body to the roof, with a sign on his neck saying _"Hiya, dear fellows!~ I'm a homo in a dress! Honk twice if I disgust the crap out of you! Veee!"_ in fourteen different languages, including Swahili, because you never know who you might meet on the road and I certainly didn't want to discriminate.

And then we reached Rome and dumped Feliciano and all his girlishness in a nearby creepy well.

And there was much rejoicing.

And, oh, what the heck, we threw Hungary in _right_ after him. Why not.

And there was more rejoicing.

And then Germany, too.

Whoopa! Down the creepy well he went.

Rejoicing _all over _the fucking place.

And then Antonio and I _somehow_ got married in Italy, violently flipped off _everybody_ who had something to say about it and had beastly and hot sex in public all night long, just because we _could_.

And then all was good, or actually not good _at all,_ and the world exploded.

The end.

**XxX**

…

…

Well, none of that _really_ happened, of course, it was just my enthusiastic imagination working overtime, but after finding out that my stupid, _mean_ little brother had been playing around with the three of us (and Antonio's freaking seatbelt) just for_ fun_, just because he was_ bored _(and we _still_ _hadn't_ _even_ _fucking_ _left yet_), I swear I seriously considered _throttling _him.

Therefore, it was a good thing Germany had a damn good seatbelt that prevented me from _jumping _Feliciano and it also was a very good thing I still managed to give him a smack in the eye (yeah, _bull's-eye!_) in spite of that.

And finally, as Antonio put on his seatbelt, Feliciano snottered about his blackened eye and I feverishly gritted my teeth, Germany decided the atmosphere was ruined and sucky enough to start the motor and begin our long, _long _drive to Rome.

So finally, after 45 DAMN MINUTES OF CRAWLING AROUND IN HELL, we were on our way.

…

About fucking TIME.

**xXx**

BUT.

If _you_ _think_ all was good and peachy after we finally drove away from Antonio's House, if _you_ _think_ everything went smoothly after all of this madness, you're a fucking _**idiot**_.

And if you're _German_ and think it's a good idea to listen to the vague instructions of a hyperactive Italian manwoman and a Spanish dweeb who claim to know shortcuts to get to Rome faster, you _don't deserve to fucking __**live**_.

…

And, _of course~_, that's what happened.

…

Now, don't get me wrong.

I'm _not_ saying that Antonio _didn't_ know the way to Rome from Madrid. He had been in Rome more than enough to know how to get there (and oh my _god_, I can't _believe _how _suggestive _and _perverted _and _strangely HOT _all of this sounded to me for some reason), but the poor man had the bad luck of being an airheaded Spaniard that _really_ wanted to help, but _really_ _**couldn't **_help, unless he refrained from helping _at_ _all_.

Because he _sucked _at giving directions.

He sucked at giving directions _so damn hard_, it wasn't even funny.

Like I said, Antonio knew the best ways to Rome, oh yes, he did – but he _didn't _know to _explain _that to others.

…

Which brings us to our current situation.

**xXx**

'You _still_ don't understand? Okay, then I'll tell you again! Listen, it's really easy!~'

Antonio gave Germany a toothy grin from the passenger's seat next to the driver's seat, as he pinned his finger down the huge map on partly his lap and partly the dashboard of the car.

'We're here now, right? Right. Now, you just follow this one road till you reach that big rock in the shape of a palm tree – yes, I'm not kidding, it's really shaped like a palm tree! – and then you take the first turn to the left. Then you go right, but not right away, you wait until you've passed the way that's a bit fling-flangy, and then you suddenly give a sharp yank to the steer. Then we're driving on this secret little way that leads to France and then we should take the third turn to the right, then left, right left, left, right, left, right, right, left, and then we've reached the border of Italy. Easy!~'

'Yes! I get it! Veee… it really _is_ easy!~' Feliciano nodded happily.

…

_Amazingly_ enough, Germany and I didn't get _shit _and we both stared at Antonio like he had grown six noses and just three mustaches.

'Spain…' Germany started, his voice unsteady and miserable as fuck, '…I think I should congratulate you.'

'Why?' Antonio asked.

'From the day I was born, I've been able to take pleasure in reading maps and following instructions and directions. It was a talent I was very proud of. I _enjoyed_ doing it. But thanks to _you_, and _you_ _alone_, I now am _hating_ this map. Hating it _very much_. I'm even thinking about ripping that map and every other map I have to pieces to express my inner frustration. So congratulations on that.'

'Well, thank you!' Antonio smiled proudly.

'Good for you, Big Brother-In-Law Toni!~' Feliciano chirped.

Germany abruptly stopped the car, groaned and repeatedly slapped himself on the forehead.

I didn't. No, I chose to slap _Antonio_ instead.

_Smack!_

'Ouch!'

And I smacked Feliciano as well, just because I was still mad at him. And because I really wanted to.

_Smack!_

'Ow! V-veee… revenge, _revenge_!'

As Feliciano tried to slap me back – and failed, since he got tangled up in his dress – my lover looked over his shoulder and gave me a pouty face, rubbing the back of his head.

'Why did you do that for, Lovi?'

'You _really_ want to know?' I hissed, glaring at him and clawing my seat like a madman, '…I _tell _you why! Thanks to you and your "great" explanation-skills, the potato-bastard now has _completely _lost the way! Good _job_, Antonio! Way to go! What's your next plan, driving us off a fucking _cliff_?'

Antonio looked offended. 'Lovino! That's ridiculous!'

'He's _right_, big brother! There aren't even any cliffs around here!' Feliciano said.

'Look, do you _want _me to smack you again?' I growled, turning to stare at him.

Feliciano made himself a bit taller.

'Ohhhhh? Think you're so _tough_, huh? **Come at me,** brother, veee! I can take you on – I'm _richer_ than you!'

'WHA— Why you mean little _asshole_, you think you're so wealthy? Well, not _anymore_! You're just as fucking poor as _me_ now!'

He gasped. 'Am _not_! And don't _ever _startle me like that again, veee!'

'You are too! Just ask your _fever_!'

'Hey! Leave my fever out of this!'

'_Make _me, _missy_!'

'Maybe I should drive to Italy!' Antonio suddenly exclaimed, ignoring me and Feliciano's evil little tussle in the back of the car, '…I don't need this map, I _know_ the way to Rome!'

Germany shook his head and firmly closed his hands around the steer.

'That's very nice for you, Spain, but _no_. There's no way I'm letting you or_ anybody else _in this car drive.'

Antonio made a long face. 'But I can handle it!'

'Maybe. But my car _can't._'

'…what are you _implying_?' Antonio snorted, narrowing his eyes.

'Nothing.' Germany said, also narrowing his eyes. 'I only wonder if you can even _afford _buying me a new car.'

…

…

…

And five minutes later, the fight between the four that perhaps was _bound_ to ensue, at last _ensued_.

**XxX**

_Another _five minutes later, the short but fierce fight stopped.

Not much had happened. Aside from some painful bruises, a couple of hurt jaws, a nosebleed, messed-up hair and some scratches, we were all fine, actually, and at least rest and quietness (safe for the grumpy panting and huffing) had taken over control in the car.

Germany had a big scowl on his face and rubbed tenderly over his jaw, refusing to look at the also frowning Spaniard next to him, who winced a bit when he touched his forehead, in which Germany's watch had left a small, but nasty, bloody cut.

On the backseat, Feliciano was smoothing his dress, what miraculously had survived and made it through the fight. His wig was lying on the ground, his upset eyes were big and glassy and his nose was bleeding a bit. As for me, I was glaring at the red marks on my arms and swore under my breath when I felt the stinging pain flashing through my left cheek – t-that bastard had printed his whole _hand _into my face, dammit…

Minutes passed before Feliciano's macho-lover cleared his throat and spoke up – sourly, but carefully, trying to keep the somewhat cleared-up air intact.

'Well, that didn't work.'

The rest was silent for a few more seconds.

Usually, people started laughing in these kind of uncomfortable situations – because of the awkwardness of it all – but in _this_ case, we _really _didn't _feel _like laughing. The situation was just _too _uncomfortable and awkward.

'No, that _definitely_ didn't work.' I then finally muttered.

'That… that was _awful_.' Antonio specified with a sigh.

Feliciano uttered a trembling sigh as well.

'Veee… we're never going to make it to Rome, are we?'

'Oh yes. We _will _make it to Rome.' Germany said. 'We just won't make it _alive_. Not like _this_.'

'What should we do, then?' Antonio asked him, but the German shrugged.

Fortunately, I all of a sudden had an idea.

'Antonio?'

I sat up and patted the Spaniard on the shoulder.

'Switch places with me. _I'll_ give Germany the directions from now on.'

Just like Feliciano and Germany, he gave me a curious, nervous look (and I couldn't blame all of them for that), but eventually, he nodded and opened his door anyway.

**xXx**

You probably expected things were going to get even _worse _now that I was sitting next to Germany and leading him the way, and I'm not going to lie – that was what I feared in the beginning as well, but, well…

…it actually turned out to be a _very good _solution.

I was a lot better at explaining things than Antonio and I was able to "translate" Antonio's crazy shortcut to Italy to a clear and easy road to follow – I could even point it on the (somewhat crumpled) map, so that Germany rediscovered his love for maps and shit again and became more and more relaxed because of that – _and_ because of the fact we _finally_ weren't lost anymore.

At the same time, exchanging places with Antonio also had a good effect on the atmosphere in the back of the car: while Feliciano and I tended to collide all the time, Antonio and Feliciano _connected _like the freaky soulmates they are and so, they calmed down as well.

And I was content as well, since one of my dreams accidentally came true: commanding Germany around to my heart's content like the badass Italian I was – and getting away with it, too!

So… well, things were _finally _going… okay.

Not _perfectly_, but _okay_.

And that was good enough for now.

Hopefully, we could keep this up till we arrived at Rome.

**xXx**

'…and if you turn left there, we cross the border from France to Italy.' I said after a hour or two, pointing to a sideway in the distance, barely looking up from the map.

'I can see it, yes.' Germany said with a nod and looked at the way ahead of us like he had never seen anything as interesting and marvelous before, safe for a _brastwurst_.

I frowned (god, just look at him _staring_ – he was such a fucking _nutjob_) and I felt something inside of me was _dying _to make a mean remark about his strange fascination with the road, but I kept quiet and focused on the map.

It still felt weird, acting and talking fairly _normal _to the guy I couldn't stand in any other situation, but hey – did I have a fucking _choice_? It was either acting like a grown-up and reaching Rome, or acting like a stupid child and ending up in _Paris _–shudder– or something like that.

Besides, I had a massive headache. Bickering didn't make that pain go away, so I figured it was better to lay low and to try not to think too much about all of this – _way _too complicated.

Behind me, Antonio suddenly chuckled a bit – and since it was the first time I had heard him chuckle in _hours_, that light, cheerful noise surprised me _enormously_.

I wanted to ask him why the hell he was chuckling, but my words never made it out of my mouth as I watched two arms slowly wrapping themselves around my seat and around _me_, pushing me back against the seat.

'Are you saying we're almost in Italy now, Lovi?' he said, his voice very close to my ear – bastard was probably leaning his face on the back of my seat or something…

'Y-yes.' I said, casually running a hand over one of his arms. 'The border is over there – can you see it?'

'Yes.' Antonio smiled – couldn't see the smile, but I _knew _he did.

'Veee… yep, I can see it, too!~' Feliciano giggled excitedly, and when I glanced aside, I noticed my younger brother was embracing Germany (or at least Germany's _neck_) from behind as well.

Feliciano's eyes and mine met for a split-second, but I just as quickly turned my head away from him again, still a bit testy.

Right on cue, Antonio chose that moment to press a kiss to my ear, making my easily-surprised heart jump a bit.

'I'm so _proud_ of you, Lovino.'

Blood rushed to my cheeks, giving them a delighted, bright-red tint.

'Y-you are? Why?'

He gave my body a soft squeeze.

'While the three of us were turning desperate, _you_ came up with a great idea that got us back on the road again. You were the one that _did _something.'

'D-don't be stupid.' I huffed. '…I was pretty desperate myself, too. And my plan could have backfired. They tend to do that, after all.'

'That's true.' Antonio laughed and gave me another kiss. 'But it didn't backfire _this_ time, did it?'

I hesitated. 'Um…'

'Veee… y-yeah, well done, Lovino…'

I looked Feliciano's way again and I saw my brother had a shy, apologetic smile on his face – and an almost _suffocating_ Germany in-between his arms, but what gives.

'You did good, big brother! And… um, I'm sorry, veee. For… well, I think you _know_ what for…'

I smiled faintly, nodding.

'I think I know what for, yes.'

'Veee… good…'

'And… um… Feliciano?'

'Yes?'

'I-I'm sorry, too.' I swallowed. 'For… for acting so mean to you.'

Feliciano blushed, but didn't say anything – he just smiled, and really, that was enough for me to know that things were okay between us again.

'My _god_, Lovi…' Antonio breathed behind me, pulling me even _more_ against the seat in an almost desperate attempt to get closer to me, '…you make me want to fight with you as well, _especially_ if that means I get an apology so _gentle_, so _honest _like yours…'

An awkward hand patted me on the head.

'Yes.'

Germany tried to keep a straight face as he pulled back his hand.

'You did a great job, Romano.'

…

W-well.

For… for a moment, I didn't know what to say.

I mean, it… it didn't happen _that _often to me that I was thanked by… so _many_ persons at the same time, so I didn't really know what I should do right now, except for sheepishly fumbling around with the map and holding back that weird smile.

'St-stupid fuckers…' I eventually mumbled, sighing as Antonio continued to kiss me and whisper sweet nothings in my ear, '…s-such stupid fuckers…'

'We like you too, Lovi!~' Feliciano grinned.

…

…

Wh-what the hell, why were my eyes getting watery, d-dammit…

**xXx**

The ambiance had turned _so _good (and Antonio's arms felt _so _nice around me), I was almost _disappointed_ when the inscription plate of the city of Rome appeared in front of us a couple of hours later.

Almost, but not completely – I _loved _Rome, after all.

**xXx**

Rome… Ah, Rome…

Let me tell you something about Rome.

It's FANTASTIC.

It's BEAUTIFUL.

It's POPULAR.

It's BETTER THAN YOU.

…

_Fuck_ yeah.

In other words, it's easily the best fucking (capital) city in the whole damn universe and _nothing, NOTHING _anybody can do about it.

So _suck_ _it_ _up_. Suck up the greatness that is Rome. And _weep_, weep _hard _upon the startling realization that your own capital city will _never_ be as awesome as _mine_.

…

Unless it _is _your capital city. In that case, we're good.

…

But anyway.

Rome is a very old city. It's at least _two and a half thousand fucking years old _– now _that's _what I call _old_.

It's an antique, classy city that's one of my land's most beloved touristic places, not only because there are fantastic works of art all over the place (like the great and magnificent Colosseum and, well, the Trevi Fountain, for example), but also because there's just _so much to do _in Rome, like shopping, going out at night and going to school in the most fantastic buildings – buildings of which a few of them used to be _kick-ass_ _churches _in the past.

Just try to imagine that. Come on. Just picture yourself sitting in a gorgeous church with high ceilings, fantastic gold and silvery paintings and long, broad windows all around you, _while doing your history homework_. Just ask yourself how _cool _it would be to hear the voice of your teacher telling about the _Renaissance_, echoing through the halls and chambers…

Fucking _mind-blowing_.

Walking through the streets of Rome alone was a great experience as well, though. Most of the shops were old, baroque-styled buildings with round roofs, white/beige walls and huge doors/windows. The streets were old and not all that good anymore at some specific places, but seriously – who gives a fuck, even the fucking _road_ you're walking onis _dazzling_.

Rome's like one big, stylish, expensive amusement park. An amusement park that won't _ever _bore you, that makes you want to look around you till your head's spinning from the greatness of all of it.

Sure, the light-colored, artsy houses are tall and slim, and the streets in the heart of Rome aren't great for a lot of vehicles either, but there's no time to complain about that – you're too busy ogling the prettiness around you anyway.

In Rome, there was prettiness about the gods (there are a _lot_ of statues of Roman gods, like Jupiter and Mars – who was, by the way, the father of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome), but also prettiness that a lot famous and extremely talented artists created, like the St. Peter's Basilica (Michelangelo and Bernini worked on that) and the great Nation Monument to Victor Emmanuel II (designed by Sacconi, established by great sculptors like, well, let's say Zanelli).

Really, I could go on forever about the amount of art in this one city.

Hell, I could write whole _libraries _about the amount of artistic _beauty_ in this one city.

But I won't – lots of other people already did that, after all.

Rome also had _fantastic _weather – most of the time, that is. Sunny days, a clear sky, a nice/way too hot temperature…

What _else_ did you wish for, seriously.

That's why I had always _loved _to live here, in this city, in my House, in Rome, together with my brother – and, way, _way _back, with our grandfather. Circumstances forced me to move away from Rome – something that bothered me a bit, but not as much as I had thought it would, since Madrid is a great city as well – but no matter _what _happened, Rome would always be _my _city.

And…

And I hoped that _one_ day, I could come back to "my" city and walk around hand in hand with Antonio and tell him all about Rome, as much as he would want to know about it and as much as he would let me tell about it…

…a-and I _knew_ he'd let me tell me all about it, I _knew_ he'd smile and relax and hold me as I'd explain the meaning of all the art, of all the _Italian_ around him…

That… that was my _dream_. _That_ one day.

…

But Rome (and Italy) wasn't ready for that. Not _yet_.

So for now, I realized it was better to keep on dreaming – and to keep a save and understandable distance from Antonio, no matter how much I properly wanted to share my passion for this city with the man I shared all of my _other_ passion with.

…

Good thing I'm used to wait for things involving love.

**XxX**

Sometimes –and I know I said this before – Antonio could be shockingly good at reading minds and atmospheres, like… well, like _now_, actually, because the more Germany's grey Volkswagen approached Rome, the more I felt him loosening his arms around me, until he had completely let go of me, right on the moment we really were _in _Rome (which still is very weird and nasty to say).

Feliciano, who had put on his wig again and looked as feminine as ever, also let go of his fiancé as he noticed Antonio's quiet, reluctant letting-go of me – and he probably did that out of sympathy for the two of us, something I was very grateful for, because…

…y-you _know_ why, dammit. Not going to say it again.

To avoid the mood in the car from getting depressing, and because Germany was still busy finding a good spot to park anyway, I suddenly started to… well, blabber away.

'Well! As long as we're in Rome anyway, I think I'm going to work a bit more on my flirting skills.' I told both Antonio and Feliciano with a weird smile.

My younger brother nodded, knowing exactly what I mean.

'Oh yes, yes! Veee… you should totally do that, big brother!~ Who knows, maybe you'll score a pretty girl!~'

Antonio blinked, looking a bit confused.

'Score a pretty girl?'

'Score a pretty girl.' I declared.

Germany gave me a weary glance from the side.

'Why would you do that? I thought you weren't interested in women.'

I snorted. 'So? That doesn't mean I can't _flirt_ with them, potato-face.'

'It's like a _sport _in Italy!~' Feliciano explained. 'Veee… if you're a good-looking Italian guy like me and Lovino, you are _supposed_ to chase after the beautiful ladies!~ The more that flirt back, the better!'

'And it's even better if the girls you're flirting with aren't Italian themselves, because that increases our sexiness.' I said.

'Why's _that_?' Germany snorted, obviously not liking the shallowness of the subject at all.

'Because of the _language_, right?' Antonio all of a sudden prompted, his eyes open wide.

'Yes!' I gave him a surprised look. 'How did you know that?'

'A-ah, you don't know?'

The Spaniard gave me a small, shy smile, his face flushing ever so slightly.

'I… I love it when you talk Italian, Lovi.'

…

I-I didn't know that.

'Y-you do?' I stammered.

Antonio smiled some more. 'Oh _yes_. You have a really nice, authentic Italian accent. It really sets my heart on _fire_, every single time I hear some Italian words slipping from your tongue.'

Now, my face began to become warmer, too.

'Wh-what are you saying, d-dammit…' I muttered, bashfully pulling on my shirt and biting my lower lip to push back that horrible _smile _that wanted to appear, '…s-stop sweet talking me, y-you ass, i-it's not like I can… I can kiss or hug you right now, s-so stop it…'

'I can wait. I have patience.'

Antonio gave me an intensive look and flashed a smile at me that _wasn't _tooflirty, but certainly not too _innocent_, either.

'I just hope you _will _kiss or hug me for this later today, when you see a chance to do so.'

'B-but Antonio, h-have you _seen _in what kind of city we are?'

'Yes.' He nodded. 'It's _Rome_. Your _favorite_ city, isn't it, my love?'

I stared at him with a look on my face that was something in-between amazement, sadness and curiosity.

'…y-yeah… m-my favorite city, yes… but… but it's also a very _religious_ city, so…'

'You'll think of something.' Antonio reassured me, sitting back. '…we're in Rome, after all. One of the most romantic places on earth. You're too passionate about both me and this city to let an opportunity to be close to me slip away in a place like this.'

I laughed softly, I couldn't help it, and rubbed over my burning cheeks.

'Y-you never fail to motivate me, Antonio, y-you sly bastard…'

'That's always a good thing.' He grinned a bit.

I wanted to say something nice again – who cares if Germany and Feliciano were right next to us, denying I loved the Spaniard would be a waste of time anyway and I probably wouldn't get a lot of chances to be nice to Antonio for the following couple of hours – but then Feliciano interrupted us by waving a hand between me and Antonio's stupidly smiling face.

'V-veee… big brother, I'm _very_ glad you're making me and Ludwig part of your corny _rendezvous_ with Big Brother-In-Law Toni, but I _really_ think it would be better if you stop _smiling_ at him like that – that bus full of Italian football-players next to us is starting to look at us…'

'Oh. _Fuck_.' I hastily sat back on my seat the way I was supposed to sit on my seat and gave a sneaky glance to the side to see if I could see some famous players – I liked football, after all…

…only to be greeted by dozens of eyes of giggly nine-to-ten-year-old boys and girls, wearing the clothes of clubs like _FC Milan_ and/or _AS Roma_.

'What the…' I started, but cut myself off when I heard Feliciano chuckling.

I looked over my shoulder and shot a nasty glare at my brother.

'You're such a piece of _shit_, Feliciano.'

…

…

I knew I was snickering as well, though.

**xXx**

It took a while, but eventually, Germany found a good parking spot to leave the car. And fortunately, it was a parking spot next to a long, old road on which it wasn't allowed to drive, since it was a _shopping_ boulevard and _crowded _with people and shops, all kinds of shops.

…

YES.

Oh YES.

As I got out of the car and _gawked _at one of the nearby so-called living statues what was impersonating a rich and wealthy lady with lots and lots of bags hanging on both her arms, Germany clapped his hands and tried to catch our attention – what actually _worked_, in the end, because I did look away from the white "statue".

'Right,' the blond German said with a nervous scowl, folding his hands on his back, '…let's make a deal here. We should stop calling each other by our nation's names for now, because… that would attract too much attention.'

'Why?' Feliciano asked, fixing his dress.

'Because persons who _look_ and _talk_ and _walk_ and _act_ like people, are supposed to _be _people. Therefore, it'll look really stupid if we are going to continue to call each other "Spain" or "Germany" – that just makes no sense. So… Romano, Spain… forget our manners and customs and… and please call me…'

Germany _purposely _avoided looking at me, I _knew _the macho-potato did.

'…L-_Ludwig_.'

'Oh _god_.' I shivered.

Antonio took it a lot better and beamed yet another bright smile, this time at Germany.

'Ah, well, then I hope you'll call me Antonio, Ludwig!~'

'Very well.' Germany shivered as well, I noticed.

'What about me?' I then said with a frown, '…my nation's name as well as my human name are both… well, _acceptable_ first names. I mean, I know for sure I won't be the only Romano here.'

'We should continue to call you Romano, in that case.' Germany quickly decided.

'Agreed!~' Feliciano said, '…veee… I always thought your nation's name made a lot more sense than your human name.'

Hey hey, hold the fucking _phone _now!

'What the fuck is wrong with my human name? I _like _my human name!' I snarled, defending the wonderfulness that was my human name.

'Maybe you should just decide for yourself how you want to call Lovi.' Antonio suggested, '…I mean, I'll just continue to call him Lovino, if you don't mind.'

'Okay then, we'll just do that!~ Veee… it's not like the Italians are going to pay _that _much attention to how we are calling ourselves anyway.' Feliciano said.

'Does everyone agree?' Germany asked.

'Yes!~'

'Yeah, fine.'

'Veee…'

Germany looked pleased, or at least content.

'Great. We're ready to get moving, then.'

**xXx**

Just a couple of minutes later, me, Antonio, Feliciano and Feliciano's bossy lover were already wandering over the busy street, looking at the people, display windows and architecture around us like only a bunch of crappy tourists could.

Wait, I shouldn't lie – Germany and Antonio looked like crappy tourists.

As for me and Feliciano…

…we looked like we fucking _owned _the place.

Especially _me_.

…

Probably as a method to distract myself from the fact that Feliciano and Germany were already walking hand in hand now ("We _have _to, big brother, you _know _how _clingy _Italian girls are!~"), but still.

So I proudly walked – or at least I _tried_ to – next to my significant other and gave him a firm jab in the side, each and every time a really good-looking girl passed us by and smiled at me.

'See that?' I smirked. '_Heh_, I guess I still know how to _mesmerize_ the incomprehensible subject that is the _female_.'

'Of course you do.' Antonio smiled.

'S-speaking of girls…' I rapidly carried on, '…there really are a _lot_ of girls around here, don't you think so?'

'That has caught my attention as well, yes.' Germany commented.

'Ah, I don't mind!~ I never knew this before, but Italian girls seem to be so _friendly_!' Antonio said, waving back to a group of winking, beautiful girls with legs up to their fucking _armpits_.

I laughed haughtily at Antonio's naïve conclusion – Italian girls and them being friendly _without_ having ulterior motives, _please_ – and was about to comment on just how "friendly" Italian girls tended to get whenever they saw an attractive, preferably foreign man walking around without a girl clamping him in her arms to show the other bitches he was hers…

…when I realized that Antonio _was _an attractive, foreign man.

…

Walking around.

…

Without a girl clamping him in her arms to show the other bitches he was hers.

…

…

Antonio… actually _met _the, for normal Italian guys like me, _very _difficult requirements a basic Italian girl searched for in a man.

He met _all _of them. _Flawlessly_.

…

…

Oh _shit_.

I should be worried.


	52. Globes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Last Saturday, my fic celebrated its first anniversary. I had totally forgotten about it! _0_0 _But some of you didn't, so I was very pleasantly surprised to read the cheerful felicitations from you. Thank you so much!~ It's hard to believe I'm already writing for over a whole year on this fic, but it's true – and I'm still loving to write it very, very much. And that's also thanks to __**you**__, my lovely readers and reviewers._^^ _You make everything better. _

_A/n2: I told you last week about my crazy anxieties – and I found out that I'm not the only one who has problems with this. Apparently, a lot of you (and __**especially**__ a few of you) know __**exactly**__ what I mean when I talk about silly, unrealistic fears and… well, that's great!~ It makes me feel understood and a bit less weird/abnormal, so thanks for that. Now I can continue to be my crazy self in peace and loudness. _XDDDDDDDD

_A/n3: You wouldn't believe how long I was thinking about what kind of dress to put Lovi in. In real life, I'm not at all that fashionable (my mom's 100 times more fashionable than me, really), but for Lovi, I knew I had to think of something great… so I put him in an extremely girlish dress. Oh __**god**__… let's hope I didn't fail… _*fidgets*

_A/n4: To __**pigeonattack**__: hi dear! I know you said to me that I could mail you to reply to your review, but since I wish to stay incognito outside of FFn, I'm not going to do that – sorry, it's also part of my weird anxiety-thing…_^^;;;  
_I don't want to bring you into trouble by replying to you the normal way either, so I'm just going to do it here: thank you very much for your review. It's a shame you can't read my fic freely whenever you want to read it, but I understand – and I hope you'll have a lot of fun with this chapter, when you see the chance to read it._^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LII:

_**13 Globes  
**__**(Absu**__**)**_

When the four of us strolled through one of the many the big, _endless_ boulevards of Rome, I tried to keep a close eye on Antonio and the ridiculous amount of feminine attention he was getting, because it was _seriously_ beginning to get out of hand.

_Really_. Not kidding here.

It was so _surreal_. The most beautiful and attractive girls of Rome came out of _nowhere_, surrounding our little, awkward men's group with their frivolous dresses and skirts and seductive giggles and lip-biting, shamelessly checking Antonio out like they had never seen such a gorgeous piece of Spain before, which they probably indeed _hadn't_, but that's not _my _fucking problem, so they needed to _back the __**fuck off**_.

_Damn_ those _damn_ bitches, _**dammit**_.

Sure, Germany also got some attention – Feliciano had personally proven that Germans apparently _are_ attractive to some Italians, after all – but since my younger brother clung to him like a drunk asshole would cling to a bottle of whiskey and shot the girls glares that almost put _mine _to shame (kudos for that, Feliciano), Germany didn't have to be scared the crazy Italian chicks would come and _get _him.

On the other hand, Antonio, who had all rights to be freaked out, wasn't freaked out _at all_, and enjoyed (and probably _misread_) all the attention he got, confusedly saying a few Spanish words when two dark-haired girls lisped to him (in _fail_-English) if he could say something in his native's language to them.

And he actually said "You girls are looking really pretty!~" to them.

…

WHAT.

WHAT THE _FUCK_, ANTONIO.

DON'T ENCOURAGE THEM, YOU MORON, THEY'LL RAPE YOU - WITH THEIR _MINDS_!

…

What? Girls can do that! Ask Hungary!

Still, no matter how annoyed I was because of those girls fluttering around my fiancé (oh _shit, _almost forgot he didn't wear his ring anymore – yet _another_ reason why the Italian girls fucking _went _for it without holding themselves back), I knew I actually didn't have to worry or be jealous or something (and I _wasn't _jealous, I _never _was, thank you very much).

Antonio wasn't attracted to women, after all. And he could be clueless as _fuck_ when nations/people he wasn't attracted to started to flirt and mess around with him – and that's right, I'm looking _your_ way, French Fuckface.

Yes, Antonio's obliviousness could be a gift from the heavens because he never noticed the horny glances others could give to him, but it could be a curse as well for that _exact same reason_ – isn't that just horribly ironic?

He was an easy victim. A _very _easy victim. Hell, I bet somebody has already had sex with him before, without him even being _aware_ of it – he was just _that_ easy.

So…

S-so I had to _protect_ him!

As his faithful and loyal lover and l-_loving_ husband-to-be, I had to make sure he wouldn't get molested in plain sight by those (admittedly _incredibly_ fashionable) man-eaters!

I had to fucking _claim _him in the name of Italy – or at least the _Southern _half of it – without putting myself and Antonio in a risky situation!

…

So… so I couldn't just grab his arm and yell "MINE!" to the women around us, because that _would_ be a risky situation (and not to mention really, really _stupid_). I seriously didn't want to think about the reactions we could possibly get on that…

…

…

…

M-maybe…

Maybe I should just… suck it up for a while. Yeah. Maybe _that _was the best option for me to do. Pretending I didn't care that unknown girls were touching Antonio and talking to him and smiling at him in a way _I _wanted to do.

…

I could do that.

…

I could at least _try_ to do that.

**XxX**

While Antonio was being popular with the Italian women and trying hard to keep his pace up with mine and Germany's/Feliciano's (being mobbed by rabid girls kind of slows you down, after all), I was doing my best to ignore the _not_-jealousy-knot that was slowly forming in my stomach by admiring the beautiful city around me and (unwillingly) listening to the conversation between my brother and his lover.

…

Yes, I was just _that_ desperate. So what. _You _try to keep a straight face and distract yourself when your fiancé is being molested by crazy Italian whores. It's not easy.

Anyway…

'Hey hey, Ludwig?' Feliciano said, yanking on Germany's arm.

The macho-potato looked up from his map – the hell, _another_ one, did he have maps and manuals for fucking _everything_ – and frowned at my brother.

'Yes, Feliciano—I mean, Feliciana?'

Feliciano giggled upon hearing his temporary "new" name.

'Veee… hey, where did we agreed to meet Big Sister Hungary again?'

'Oh. Let me check.' Germany took a long and careful look at his map. '…at this lunchroom here. See? I think it's close-by. It's called… um… wait… _Boggata…_ no…'

'_Ugh_, give me _that_.' I groaned and snatched the map away from him. 'It's _La Bogetta del Caffè_. Fucking amateur. Don't even _try _to pronounce the great name of an Italian lunchroom, _any _Italian lunchroom, the right way if you end up _raping_ it anyway.'

'Mnm. I'd like to let you know that my Italian has been improving _greatly_, though.' Germany commented with a huff.

'I'm a good teacher!~' Feliciano cheered.

'Oh _really_?' I snorted sarcastically to Germany, ignoring Feliciano.

Germany nodded, avoiding my glaring eyes.

'Yes. I can't speak the language and I have a lot of trouble understanding it when I hear someone speak Italian, but I can write and read it fairly well.'

'Because I'm such a good teacher!~' Feliciano blabbered again.

'_Bullshit_, potato-face!'

Still ignoring my annoying brother, I squeezed my eyes till I could barely see Germany anymore.

'If you can read and write Italian, you should be able to speak and understand it while listening to it just as easily! Otherwise, you _suck _**enormously**!'

'But… I _can't_ speak and understand it while I'm listening to it.'

'Then you _suck _**enormously**!'

The German man gave me a weary look, but didn't respond.

'Veee, he really isn't _that _bad at Italian, big brother! Not with a wonderful teacher like _me!_~' Feliciano happily protested.

'Oh for _God's_ sake, Feliciano, you annoying _creep_!' I suddenly snarled at Feliciano, fed-up with his irritating interruptions, '…would you _please_ just shut your damn _yap_ already!'

'Yes, Feliciano, please…' Germany sighed and rubbed his temple.

My brother gasped. 'No, no, Ludwig, it's Felician**a**! Veee… your wonderful female teacher who loves you very, _very _much!~'

Feliciano made a little jump and stepped in front of Germany, winding his arms around his neck and trying to stand as high and _stable _on his toes as possible as he did so.

Germany's cheeks became a little bit rosy. 'F-Felici…'

'I love you very very _very _much, even…~'

Feliciano smiled, batting his eyelashes like he was _freaking Bambi_.

'…veee… do you love me, too?~'

'Y-yes, I do, but Feliciano-_na, _I mean, _please_, we're not alone now…'

My brother giggled. 'So?~ We're in Rome now! _Italy_, Ludwig!~ It's okay here to be romantic in public!~ So gimme a kiss! Kissy kissy!'

'U-um…' Germany nervously glanced aside and paled when he saw the _**deadly **_stare I threw right back at him, '…I don't think it's a good idea to do that while your brother's—'

Feliciano didn't let him finish and pulled him closer, gently pressing their lips together and paralyzing Germany for a second with just that one touch, before the blond machoman wrapped an arm around Feliciano as well and kissed him back.

…

…

Well.

This was… well.

I stopped glaring daggers at the German and my little brother – they were too busy getting in each other's pants/dress anyway to pay attention to me anyway – and bit hard on my somewhat trembling lower lip, staring at the ground.

Shit.

Beside me, there was a _disgusting_ display of affection going on and behind me, even _more _disgusting displays of affection were going on as I heard the persistent Italian women laugh about _everything _that came out of Antonio's mouth, even when it wasn't funny at all, even… even when he was actually calling out my name, asking me in a worried voice if I could please slow down a bit…

…

Oh sure. And _then _what, Antonio?

Walk next to you and act like nothing's wrong while girls of all sizes are _draped_ all over you?

I think I'll _pass_, thank you.

…

F-fuck…

I put my hands in my pockets as deeply as I could and kicked a can out of my way, never slowing down my speed of walking.

I was in my most favorite city of all time with my brother and my lover and I actually felt _alone_.

Very much alone.

Sure, it was a relief that the lunchroom where we were supposed to meet Hungary was very close by, but…

…

But I wondered if the situation was going to be _any _better once we were having lunch. Knowing Italian girls, they'd probably shamelessly invite themselves at our table and flirt with Antonio _non-stop_, making me feel like pulling out my hair and breaking some plates on their stupid, feminine heads, but I _wouldn't_, because I'm a gentleman and gentlemen don't hurt women, not even when they are _bitches _and _deserve_ some major ass-kicking.

And since Antonio was a gentleman himself as well – I was _very_ awarehe was – there wouldn't be much he could do about the situation as well, so that meant…

…

…holy shit, that probably meant I had to endure the constant flirting _**for the rest of the fucking day**_.

…

…

But that was okay.

I… I was _man_ enough to swallow my pride and let others have their grubby ways with my fiancé, I was _cool _enough to—

'Lovino!'

Suddenly, Antonio appeared next to me, almost out of breath as he firstly looked over his shoulder and then at me. He looked slightly panicked.

'Enjoying yourself?' I nevertheless remarked sorely, looking away.

'No! I'm not enjoying myself at _all_!' Antonio said, sounding a bit freaked out (better late then never), '…those women are _scary_, Lovino! They keep on touching me! One of them even cut off some of my hair!'

'_What_?' I jolted my head up.

First touching and sweet-talking Antonio, now even _stealing_ bits of him? That was like stealing bits of _me_, dammit!

'Y-you've got to help me, Lovi!' Antonio gave me a pleading look. 'It's not that I think they are mean or evil or something and they act really nice and friendly to me, but I think they… _want _something from me!'

'Of _course _they want something from you!' I snapped, '…for God's sake, Antonio, you're a very kind and Spanish and good-looking man that actually _listens_ to _them_, who are _women_, and you even act _natural_ around them! Hell, you're so damn _perfect_, those bitches want your fucking _**babies**_!'

Antonio's jaw dropped.

'My babies? Y-you mean… like _right _now?'

'Well, _no_, not right _now_,you crazy, perverted bastard, but let's be honest – you're a good catch. All girls want good catches. Good catches make good babies, after all.' I reasoned – and _yes_, I _did_ realize I was probably partly talking out of my ass right now, but _who cares_, I _really_ didn't like girls right now, especially not if they were Italian and after Antonio's genes.

'But they _can't_ have my babies!' Antonio whined, still glancing over his shoulder, '…you know that only _you _have my full permission to bare my babies!'

'A-and _you_ know that I _can't _fucking bare your damn _babies_!' I hissed, also looking behind me – and gulping when I saw at least _ten girls_ coming at us, _oh __**shit**_, '…I'm _male, _remember? And a _country_! And—what the _fuck_, why are we even _having _this fucked-up conversation in the first place! Just get _away_ from me before those crazy chicks _trample _me!'

'B-but Lovi—'

'Shoo, shoo!' I made spastic, waving gestures with my hands and sped up my walking, '…don't worry, I'll think of something! Just go on ahead and look for Hungary at _La Bogetta del Caffè_ – it's over there, you can't miss it!'

'O-okay…'

Antonio exchanged a last uncomfortable look with me, before he ran away _without _making it look like he actually _ran_ (he was Spanish, after all), and he was almost immediately followed by five Italian women – looks like the other five had given up – who calmly _walked _after him at high speed, also without making it look like running, since they were _Italian_.

…

What?

About the running?

Yeah, if we _wanted_ to, we Latino-blooded persons tended to run like that. It always comes in handy when we're very scared of someone/something and want to get away from him/her/it as fast as possible _without_ looking like massive wussies.

…

At least, that's what we _hoped_.

…

But I digress.

For once, I wasn't worried that my absentminded lover would miss the lunchroom, because there was this _huge_ empty square in-between us and the lunchroom, surrounded by tall, nostalgic buildings made of reddish bricks with green statues and roofs on top, and you actually _couldn't _miss the lunchroom because of that: it was the only building around he square that looked slightly _different_. And had small tables standing outside.

I knew _La Bogetta del Caffè_ – I had eaten there before. It was a great place to relax and look at/gossip about the people passing the joint during shopping – and the best thing about it was that you could sit outside, to enjoy the sun and get a nice tan while eating.

Just so you know.

'Veee…' I suddenly heard Feliciano say somewhere beside of me as I watched Antonio pseudo-storming the lunchroom, '…looks like Big Brother-In-Law Toni is really popular with the ladies, Lovino…'

'Indeed. Even though he has a _very_ awkward little walk.' Germany remarked.

'I _know _he's popular with the women.' I growled lowly. 'And that's not walking – it's _running_.'

'But it doesn't _look_ like it's running.'

'Well, it is.'

'I don't get it.' Germany concluded.

'Ah, Ludwig…' Feliciano shook his head, sighed and pinched the hard cheeks of his fiancé like he pinched the face of a child, '…that's alright, there's _so much _you don't know about my kind yet, you stern _hunk_, you!~'

Germany rolled his eyes and rubbed his bruised cheeks.

'Maybe that's for the best, too. For _me_, that is.'

'Anyway, shouldn't you _do _something, big brother?' Feliciano then asked me, out of the blue, giving me a critical look, '…veee… I mean, you're not planning to spend the rest of the day tagging along with a face like _that_, are you?'

I glared at him.

'First of all, _no_, I'm _not_ planning to spend the rest of the day tagging along like this, and second of all, this is my _thinking _face, Feliciano, you blunt, brainless son of a _bitch_.'

'Not so _fast_, mister!~' Feliciano pointed a finger at me. '…if _I'm_ a son of a bitch, _you're_ a son of a bitch, too! HA! In your _face_! Right, Ludwig?~'

'You have a point.' Germany said.

'Heard that? I have a _point_! I'm a **_superwo_**_**man**!_' Feliciano threw his arms in the air.

'Shut _up_, Feliciano – I'm still thinking.' I murmured, frowning my forehead.

My younger brother huffed. 'It's Felician**a**, dummy. And thinking of what? What to do to solve your and Big Brother-In-Law Toni's lady-problem?'

'No, that's not it – I _know _what to do. I knew it all along, actually, _right_ after noticing those girls clinging to Antonio. It's just…'

I started shivering all over my body.

'…I-I'm now _desperately_ trying to think of a plan B to get out of plan A. But it's not working out. Hence the long face and shit.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'So it _isn't_ your thinking face?'

'No no, it _is_.'

'Oh?'

'There's just not much difference between my long face and my thinking face.'

'Tell me about it.'

'Shut the fuck up.'

'Veee… but Lovi, is your plan A _that _bad, then?'

'Oh _yes_. It's _awful_. And I'll probably need Hungary for that, too…'

'But if Big Sister Hungary is part of plan A, it must be a _great_ plan! Okay then!' Feliciano clapped in his hands in excitement, '…you just wait here, big brother! Ludwig and I go tell Big Sister Hungary you need her help – and we'll order some drinks, too, while we're at it! I'm so thirsty, I could drink up a whole barrel, hahaha!~'

I spread my eyes in shock. 'NO! Wait, don't go! I'm still trying to think of a plan B—'

'I'm craving for some _Vinsanto_!' Feliciano mused, already skipping away with Germany close behind him, '…hey hey, should I order a _Vinsanto_ for you as well, Lovino? I know how much you love sweet wines!~'

'Felician—'

'I can't hear you! Veee, my feathery-light footsteps on the ground are _really _boisterous!~'

'Boisterou— what the fuck, talk _normal, _you weird bastard! And like fucking HELL your fucking footsteps are fucking _boisterous_!' I snarled back at him, but then I decided to shut up, since the people around me were starting to give me really strange and irritated looks, probably because of my enthusiastic overuse of the F-word.

So I just swallowed instead and looked at Feliciano and Germany's arrival at _La Bogetta del Caffè_.

O-okay… looks like there was no way back anymore. I had to wait for Hungary.

And so, I had to pick plan A.

…

G-_god_…

**XxX**

Well, I didn't have to wait for long, because already after a minute, _a mere minute_, I saw a familiar woman coming my way.

She wore a GIANT pair of round sunglasses and an expensive, elegant and downright _imposing_ sleeve- and strapless yellow dress to down her ankles that suited her features _so_ well, it was almost a crime. She also had her hair tied up to a nonchalant, springy ponytail with a silk, white ribbon that had that weird, eternal flower of hers attached to it.

…

She looked really, _really _fine.

And if I wasn't as gay as _fucking Christmas_ and slightly terrified of her, I'd have approached her faster than you can say "_and a crappy new-year_".

…

But alas.

…

Oh well.

'Romano!'

Hungary pushed her sunglasses up her hair when she moved to stand in front of me and folded her arms, like a teacher, impatiently tapping one of her feet on the ground like _tick-tick-tick_.

'What did I do!' I automatically defended myself, scowling.

'You _disappoint_ me, Romano! First you and the rest show up way too late, and now… _ugh_! Just _look_ at yourself! Why aren't you _crying_!' she asked with a frown.

…

I stared at her.

Huh?

'Wait – what? _Crying_? Why the _fuck _should I be crying?'

'Well! Isn't that obvious?'

The brunette made a _grande _gesture to the lunchroom a few meters away with both her arms that I didn't quite get, but what _undoubtedly_ explained _everything_ and yet nothing at all.

'You have _loads _of reasons to cry for, dear! Look! At the restaurant! Your love of your life! Surrounded by beautiful women that are all over him and want his attention! And dick! And ass! While you, poor, poor _you_, are forced to _look_ at it! While slowly _dying_ inside! Because of the fact you _can't _be slutty and romantic with him because you're a – gasp! – **MALE**! And in **ITALY**!'

'Oh my GOD, woman, SHUT UP!' I stammered, looking around me anxiously – but luckily, nobody seemed to pay attention to us.

Still, I was upset.

'Shit, do you _want _to get me killed by homophobes?' I hissed to the Hungarian woman, pulling her with me to the side of the road.

'No – I want you to _cry_!' Hungary made a face. '…when Veni – who looks _adorable_ in his little green babydoll-dress, by the way – told me you asked for my help for some kind of plan, I expected to meet a broken, bawling piece of someone who used to be a man, _angstily_ questioning his own looks and Spain's loyalty and sexuality… But I _didn't_ expect to meet… _this_.'

She flicked my nose.

'Ow!' I grabbed my nose. 'Hey, that _hurts_!'

Hungary groaned. 'Ugh, what an anticlimax… You're not even _sobbing_…'

'Why _should_ I!' I nagged, '…hell, just because Antonio's being surrounded by crazy touchy-feely bitches _doesn't_ mean that he has abruptly turned _straight _or… or that he has lost his feelings for meor something! God, come _on_! How _pathetic _do you think we are! If you think _that _lowly of our relationship, I've got some news to tell you – we're _way _past that stadium already! _Deal_ with it!'

Hungary, who seemed to be slightly impressed by my indeed surprisingly _mature_ opinion about the current situation, calmly raised an eyebrow.

'That was quite a speech you just gave me.'

'It wasn't a fucking speech – it was the _truth_, dammit!'

'So, may I conclude that, since your trust in Spain's loyalty is obviously _so_ _very_ _strong_, you are perfectly fine with the all the attention he is getting?' she smugly said.

'No! Of course I'm not _fine _with that!' I barked – and waved good-bye to my inner reasonable and mature adult, that was flung _right_ out of the window, like a boomerang, only it would probably take a _lot_ more time than usual before it would come back to me, _if_ it ever was going to come back to me again.

'Aha, so even though you have faith in Spain, you don't like the flirting that's going on.' Hungary continued, while wearing this… this _smile_ on her face.

'Don't _like _it?' I gritted my teeth. '…I fucking _hate _it! I hate it _very _much! T-those women… they _shouldn't_ be touching him, they _shouldn't_ be feeling him up, he's… he's a taken man, alright! Taken by _me_! _Just _me! They need to _back_ _off_!'

'I hear you.' Hungary nodded, understanding. '…but since you're part of a gay couple, that's going to be tough – the local people probably won't appreciate your sexuality, after all. So tell me, Romano, how are you going to, you know, _make _them back off? What's your plan?'

I took a deep, _painfully_ deep, breath.

'…if… if I tell you I need your advice on women's fashion, do you… do you understand where I'm going, then…?'

The brunette looked at me like she has just gotten a truck filled to the brim with free homosexual erotica and resolutely linked her arm with mine.

'Count on _me_, dear. You're in _good _hands… oh yes… hahahaha… _very_ good hands…'

'I-I can't help but wonder about that, though…' I stuttered, uncomfortable.

She didn't hear me.

'…hmmm, just you wait, I'll make you so _disturbingly_ cute that all of your hot lover's fillings will spontaneously _burst_ the _minute_ he lays his eyes on you…~'

'U-um…' I struggled a little bit against the woman's determined arm as she dragged me to the most _horrifying_, most _girlish _shop around the square, but it was no use: now that I had given Hungary the chance to "help" me, _damn _she'd "help" me.

…

G-God be with me…

**XxX**

Less than 30 minutes later, which was _embarrassingly_ _rapid_, I was looking at myself in a ceiling-high mirror with my eyes spread open wide, wondering how on earth, _how on motherfucking EARTH_, Hungary had actually managed to make me look even _more _feminine than Feliciano.

But she had done it.

Holy _shit_.

I didn't know _how_ she had done it, but… _holy fucking shit_…

In the mirror, there was a _very _confused, _very _overwhelmed _girl_ in her early-twenties standing, wearing a simple, but well-fitting pink dress down to my claves. While most of the dress was just a very normal tint of pink – not too bright, not too faint – like the body and the upper part of the actual skirt, the lower part of the skirt was a bit _lighter_ pink – and had patrons of faded white flowers of different sizes spread all over.

Also, ruffles.

…

Fucking RUFFLES.

WHY.

WHY.

WHY did there have to be RUFFLES.

But _don't_ think that's it.

Because it's _not_.

Hungary had also forced me into a pair of white, so-called Mary Jane-shoes (good _god_) that made me look like a fucking _schoolgirl_, too.

Oh, _and_ she had pulled out a long-haired, brown wig out of her bag (I didn't know _where _that thing came from, but that's okay, I didn't _want_ to know it either) and planted it on my head, together with a _neonpink _headband.

Finally, as a finishing touch, Hungary had given me a small, handheld parasol made of lace and ribbons – and _then_, after all of that, she was, at _last_, officially _done_ cruelly castrating me.

…

Or so I thought.

**xXx**

'Oh _god_, _please_ tell me you're just kidding now.'

I stared from Hungary to the pinkish, *~_sparkling_~* lipgloss she had taken out of her pocket (really, if she pulled out a complete collection of antique Hungarian tableware later, I wasn't surprised anymore), right after she had pushed me down on one of the chairs of the dressing room.

'Kidding?' Hungary's green orbs studied my convulsive face with utmost confusion, grabbing my chin with one hand, '…why, silly Romano, why would I make jokes about something as _serious _as _**this**_?'

'I'm sorry. How very stupid of me. Of _course _you weren't kidding.' I muttered with a groan.

Hungary smiled, slowly pulling out the… tassel-like thing of the lipgloss.

'Right!~ Well, now _that's_ made clear, please shut up for a second so I can do your lips, dear…'

I wanted to groan again, but she didn't give me the chance – she was already painting my lips like it was the most normal thing to do, coloring some man's lips bright pink.

…

Well, in _her _world, it probably _was_.

As the Hungarian female did my lips, I looked at her – and suddenly, there was this question flashing through my head, a question that had been _dying _to be answered for a long, _long _time already.

'Hey, Hungary?'

She chuckled. 'I think it's better to call me Elizabeta for now, dear – and don't move your lips so much.'

'Yeah, okay… I just want to know…' I hesitated, '…about Antonio…'

She looked up. 'Yes?'

'How _did _you top him, really?'

Hungary's hand froze for a second, but only just a second.

Then she pulled her hand back and screwed the lipgloss shut again, a faint smile on her face as she put the sticky shit away and stood upright, fixing her dress.

'Curious, aren't you, Romano – or should I say… Roman**a**?~ Or wait, no: _Roma_! That sounds way better – and not all that different!~'

'Huh?' I blinked.

'Come here, come here!~'

She pulled me off the chair and pushed me back in front of the mirror again, now with me holdingthe handheld parasol and "wearing" the slightly colored lips.

'Well? What do you think, dear?~' Hungary asked – and saw in the mirror she was standing behind me, her hands on my shoulders as she looked up at me excitedly.

'What I think?'

I frowned at my own blatant girlishness with a blush of shame on my cheeks as I wobbled a bit on those stupid shoes.

'…I think I'm a fucking _chick_.'

'And…?'

'…and I'm **hating** it. Hating it very much, hating it with… with _every_ _fucking_ _**inch**_ inside of me, but… well, I think you did a scarily good job, Hunga—um, Eli… Elizabeta.'

'Right?~' Hungary laughed and patted me on the back, '…isn't that great? Now you can face those terrible women hanging around your Spaniard… and claim him back!'

'I think I'll fucking scare him to _death_.' I murmured, looking away from the mirror.

'Who?'

'A-Antonio.' I swallowed. '…I know he has this weird fetish with dresses and such, but… come on, this is too much…'

Hungary looked a bit startled. 'It's _not_ too much, not at all! You look like a genuine girl to me, dear – and the only thing I did was give you a dress and some _lovely items~ _to make it work!'

'You also gave me _make-up_.' I grumbled, barely resisting to run my tongue over my lips and rid them of the smelly, sweet stuff smeared on them.

'Only a bit of lipgloss.' She shrugged. 'That's all.'

'Doesn't change the fact I still feel very weird about it.'

'I know. But you'll be fine. It's only for one afternoon, after all.' Hungary reassured me, giving me a soft squeeze in my shoulders.

I nodded a bit and gave my reflection a last, frowning glance.

'If you say so.'

**xXx**

We (= Hungary) paid for the clothes and shit and left the shop, heading back to the charming lunchroom that, luckily enough, was very close by.

I was _glad _it was, because I felt I couldn't walk around on those _hellish_ shoes from _hell _for too long – already after taking five, maybe six steps forward, I was fearing for my damn _life..._ and I even had to use my cutesy parasol as a cane.

Hungary, who was the well-known sacred guardian of everything that was either feminine or masculine or just _gay_, didn't approve.

'Roma, you shouldn't be using your parasol like that. You should use it to protect your fair skin against the burning rays of the sun!'

'Fair skin my _ass_!' I snorted. '…if you want fair skin, you should go ask Feliciano, _not_ me. I don't have fair skin. I _like _the sun.'

'You should also watch your speech. And make your voice a bit higher.' Hungary sternly said, not paying attention to my complaints.

I gave her a narrow-eyed glance.

'And _you _should tell me about you and Antonio already.'

Hungary hadn't expected me to come back to that subject again, not like _this_, anyway, and was, once again, speechless for a moment, giving me the most unreadable looks before smiling at me again and putting her sunglasses on.

'Don't you worry, dear – I _will _tell you about me and your fiancé's time together. But not yet. We still have to do some shopping and talking about your and Veni's wedding, after all. And _then_ I still have to take you to my country to have some nice dinner with you, before I'll tell you.'

'But—'

'No.' She shook her head. 'An appointment is an appointment, Roma, just like a promise is a promise. You'll have to wait.'

'I know, but can't you at least tell me a _bit _about it?' I insisted, '…I mean, try to place yourself in my position – what would _you _think if you heard a woman has topped your male lover?'

'I…'

Hungary licked her lips and thought about the question.

'…I'd probably be just as curious and mildly disturbed as _you_, Roma.'

'Right?' I said.

She took a breath, a deep, shaky one.

'Alright then. You want to hear a bit already? In that case, I'll tell you a bit – as a thank-you gift for letting me dress you like the most _adorable _girl _ever_.'

'Don't mention it.' I rolled my eyes.

'Are you ready for it, dear?'

'Yes.'

'I'll just begin, then.'

**XxX**

'I used to hate him.'

…

This…

This was the first thing Hungary revealed to me.

It… was quite a announcement, judging from my point of view, but amazingly enough, Hungary's voice was very normal and calm as she said it – and she even smiled at me, like she was talking about the weather or another silly, unimportant subject.

'Isn't that strange, Roma? I _hated_ Spain. I hated him very, _very_ much. And, to be honest with you, I'm still kind of… _upset_ with him. Even though I know it doesn't make sense anymore. Even though I know it's not relevant anymore. It still _hurts_.'

…

O-oh.

I looked at her from the side in silence, trying to keep a confident and steady pace as we continued walking.

'But… aren't you and Antonio _friends_?' I heard myself ask her softly.

'Oh yes, we are!' Hungary nodded. 'We are _very_ good friends! But _not_ as good as you might _think_. For example, Roma… have you ever heard me say Spain's human name, even _now_, here in Rome?'

'No…' I realized.

'And tell me, has _he _ever said _my _human name, if he's that good of a friend of mine?'

'N-no…'

Now that Hungary mentioned it, Antonio indeed never spoke about "Elizabeta" – it was always _Hungary_.

…

W-why was that?

'He has his reasons to refuse to call me by my human name. I think it has got something to do with the past. Something that still _eats _him a bit, maybe. Something that didn't fit with his ways of thinking about certain things.' Hungary explained.

'Did you _rape_ him?' I suddenly snapped at her – and was surprised by my own harsh, dangerous, _darkened_ tone of voice.

She laughed.

'First of all, Roma, I _told_ you last week that whatever happened between me and Spain wasn't… _that _bad. For _him_, at least. And second… _rape_ him? _Me_? With _what_, dear? I don't exactly have the right _equipment _to do that.'

'You _don't_?' I scoffed, '…well, you and your _maiden's heart _have enough imagination to think of something to violate him with, I'm sure.'

'Oh yes. Yes. I have a whole trunk in my attic that's filled with stuff like that, after all.'

'Then…'

She glared at me. 'Then _what_, Roma? You think we used some of that? _Really_? You think I'd _ruin _my unwilling first time like that even _more _than it already _was_?'

I felt my mouth fell open.

W-wait…

'I shouldn't have said that. I really shouldn't have said that.' Hungary sighed and rubbed her forehead.

'Y-your _first time_?' I said in a weird voice, '…you mean… you—'

'Well, looks like we're back.'

Hungary stopped walking – and indeed, we were standing right in front of lunchroom _La Bogetta del Caffè_. I could already see Feliciano's green dress, Germany's glowing blonde hair and Antonio and his personal harem, sitting just a few meters away from us.

Hungary gave me a sunny smile and hastily fixed my "hair" and dress a little bit more.

'Oh, he'll be _thrilled _to see you, coming for his rescue like a knightly little pink princess!~'

'Wh-what did he do to you, Hungary?' I stammered.

'_Elizabeta_.' she corrected me. 'It's _Elizabeta_, dear. Don't forget it.'

'Did _he_ rape _you_?'

'Don't forget to make your voice a bit higher now!'

And without giving me any more reaction but another weak, fake smile, she pushed me forwards, right into the sight of Antonio and the rest.

**xXx**

Immediately, the select little group of inter-European visitors of the lunchroom looked up to stare at me – and even though I was _very _well dressed up and disguised and shit, I saw Germany and Feliciano recognized me right away.

Their jaws dropped a bit and Germany's glass of beer stopped approaching his mouth half way.

'Oh my _god_.' the German muttered.

Feliciano only smacked a hand against his mouth in astonishment.

Fuck. I quickly looked away from him and my brother, before I'd flee in fucking _shame_, and now focused my attention on Antonio, who had two girls sitting on either side beside him, two girls standing behind him and one even attempting to _sit on his fucking lap_.

His lap.

WHAT.

Okay, I had enough with those bitches. No matter how embarrassed I was thanks to this dress and no matter how… h-how _confused_ I was thanks to Hungary's unsettling story, I sure as _hell_ was going to end those Italian girls' dreams – and preferably as _fast _as possible.

'A-Antonio.' I heard myself begin after breathing in and out for a bit.

Antonio, who had been looking kind of miserable, stopped staring at his glass for a minute and lifted his head up.

'Ah… yes, what can I do for you, young… young la…'

When our eyes met, _his_ grew, slowly getting that typical lively sparkle in that endless green back again when he also recognized me.

And his sentence was never finished.


	53. Fundament

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1:__ Well, I've thought out some things and I've come to the conclusion that there will be 60 chapters in this fic – so that means there are __**seven **__**more **__**chapters **__**left**__ after this one, including the "Thank You"-chapter.  
__...of course, you know how much I tend to ramble, so the chances that there will be more than 60 chapters are pretty darn big. _XDDDDDD  
_But __**still**__. If everything goes as I have planned, you may expect seven more chapters from me._^^ _Hopefully, you will enjoy them just as much as I hope you enjoyed the older chapters… _

_A/n2: Spain, or at least Catalonia, doesn't have bullfights anymore, or so the radio/news told me. That's a good thing, of course – I mean, just think of all the innocent bulls that will be spared!_^^ _But on the other hand, I do wonder how Toni feels about this. I think, as a real Spaniard, he'll be slightly disappointed that it's no longer allowed to fight bulls. It was something typical Spanish, after all, and I really think he saw it as some kind of material art, and __**not**__ as some brainless bull-butchering…_

_A/n3__: Hi __**Mony**__!~ _8D_ Told you I'd make a shout-out to you – well, here it is!_^^ _God, do I love your Spamano-blog! :_DDDD _You are great and very inspiring, dear, you really, REALLY are, and as soon as I can, I'll leave you another message – you can count on that!_^^

_A/n4: …and also hi, __**Tokochu**__! Your friend Amy asked me if I could give you a shout-out, so… well, here it is!~ Thanks for your reviews and I hope you're happy with this!_

_A/n5: …and that's it for shout-outs and stuff. Now I'm tired. _XDDDDD _On to the chapter already!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LIII:

_**Fundament  
**__**(Kempi ft. Rocks & Duvel**__**)**_

'L-Lovi… oh my _god_, Lovi…'

Antonio's voice was barely louder than a whisper when he finally managed to say, no, _breathe_ my name, and I got the oddest satisfaction from the uninterrupted stare he was giving me now, his eyes sliding over my body so _curiously_, so _slowly_ that it was almost like it were his _hands_, touching, folding, inspecting me as carefully as they could.

'You're so _beautiful_, my love…'

…

_God_.

H-his compliment and shameless focus on me and my dress gave me goosebumps all over, really.

It… it was strangely _kinky_, after all…

…

I… I bet he wanted to sink his hands in-between the ruffles and folds of my dress, I bet he wanted to let them slide up my trembling legs, _slowly_, and then _spread_ them, and _oh_, I bet he wanted to make me moan and gasp and willingly press my needy ass against his fingers…

…

Oh _yes_, I _certainly_ felt my heart sped up its beating when I thought about all of this, _especially_ when his appreciating eyes met mine once again… but somehow, I still succeeded in keeping up a straight, yet slightly reddened, face.

Hell, I even almost forgot about the five leering bitches sitting/standing around him, that now looked from me to Antonio with raised eyebrows.

'Who's she?' one of them nonchalantly asked Antonio in her best Spanish, which _sucked_, lighting a cigarette.

But since Antonio was way too busy blushing and enjoying the sight and admiring the _crap_ out of me, I opened my mouth to answer in his place, and I'd answer in _Italian_, so that those bitches _knew_ they weren't dealing with just some random tourist.

'Not that it's _any_ of your business, but I'm… um…'

'She's his _fiancée_!'

Feliciano, who apparently had been annoyed by the girls as well, shot up from his chair, pointing at me like I was some sort of god. No, goddess.

Which I _was_, of course.

…

God, I mean. _Not_ a goddess. A _god_.

…

Oh, just drop dead already.

'Right! Damn _straight _I'm that guy's fiancée!' I heard myself say, feeling somewhat strengthened because of my brother's support, and nervously continued my stammering.

'…um… his… his _female_ fiancée! His very, _very, oh so damn_ _**female**_ fiancée! Just look at me! _God_, am I female!'

'Yeah! You tell them how female you are, sister!~' Feliciano yelled.

'Don't fucking _push it_, you moron!' I snarled back at him, cringing a _thousand fucking _cringes.

'And may I say that you look _adorable_?'

'Stop it!'

'Because you really, _really_ do!~'

'HEY!'

'Veee, you're like a little sugary _princess!_~ Ohhh, and now you're _blushing_!~ So _cute!_~'

'Oh _god, _just _stop_ _talking _already!'

Then Germany calmly – even though I saw his right eye _twitching_ – grabbed Feliciano by his arms, pulling him down on his chair.

'Enough, Feliciano. Felician**a**, I mean. Whatever – _look_, shouldn't you think of what to order?'

Feliciano got a goofy, stupid smile on his face and started hugging his taller lover's arm.

'_Pastaaaaaaaaaa…~_'

Well, what did you expect, really?

'Pasta it is, then.' Germany simply said, used to Feliciano's dopey behavior, and shut his menu, putting it down on the table before giving me a thoughtful look.

'And you… um…'

'What?' I frowned.

'And that goes for you, too. Um… you… should sit down and think of what to eat as well.' Germany suggested.

I blinked. 'Oh. Yeah, right… um, I'd love to sit down and order something, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of room left for me…'

And then I _sighed_ as _deeply_ and as _sadly _as possible, playfully twirling my over-the-top parasol around behind me as I mentally rewarded myself with 5 Emmy's and a couple of Academy Awards for looking, acting and even _manipulating_ as a real-ass woman, because _hell_, everything I did was so damn _believable_, it almost made me want to dance.

But I think I was already doing an extremely good job at making a complete fool out of myself, so I didn't.

However, I _did_ look at Antonio _very_ intently, who all of a sudden shot up from his chair like it had a needle on it and grabbed the chair next to him, which had a red-haired (_tsssk_, obviously not her _real_ hair color) woman sitting on it – and simply _tumbled _it over, pretty much _launching _the girl into the flower box next to our table.

Which was _wonderful_.

'Y-you can sit _here_, Lovi! Next to me! R-right here!' Antonio stammered, not even paying attention to the growling girl in the flower box, covered in flowers as he kept on smiling at me and patted on the seat of the now empty chair.

'HEY!' the redhead snarled, snatching a daisy out of her hair and ferociously _throwing _it at the Spaniard – but she missed, the stupid _whore_.

…not that it mattered that much if she _had_ hit him with the flower – it's a fucking _flower_, what had she wanted to do to him with it? Tickle him to death? Bitch _please._

'Or… or do you want to sit _here_?'

Antonio now grabbed the _other _chair, on his left side, and accidentally threw off the blonde girl sitting on it just as easily as he had done with the redhead, so the blonde bimbo flew through midair for a second before she landed on the ground and broke a nail.

Which also was _wonderful_.

'Ow!' she said, but was also ignored.

'Or… you can sit on the best seat I can offer to you…'

Antonio sat down on his chair again, shove it backwards and invitingly patted his lap, which would've been incredibly sexy if he hadn't shoved himself and the chair _right _over the toes of the girls standing behind him, who started screaming like the fucking horny stray cats they were.

'OUCH!'

'_AI_!'

'Y-you BRUTE!'

After that, it was clear Antonio had effectively lost all of his chances to score with the girls (oh, and what a _bummer _that was), since they all suddenly got up and/or stood/hopped in front of him, harshly _smacking_ _him __**straight**_ _in_ _the_ _face_, with _flat_ hands, before turning away with a huff and a hiss, finally walking off, looking pissed, hurt and really, _really_ disappointed in the weird creature called "man", once again.

…

My grandpa would have been so fucking proud of me.

Amazingly enough, Antonio didn't seem to have suffered much from the fierce bitch-slap-fest, since he was _still_ beaming this big, happy, _excited_ smile at me as he slowly rubbed his bruised cheeks.

'Are you okay?' I asked him with a frown, approaching him and sitting down on a chair next to him (_no_, I _wasn't _going to sit on his lap, I was too sophisticated to do something like that in public and I also didn't feel like enjoying a huge _boner_ against my back, at least not _yet_).

My interest in his wellbeing only made Antonio's face glow even _more _and he nodded, quickly moving his chair a bit closer to mine.

'I'm okay!~ I'm _very _okay, especially… especially now that _you_ are here with me again, Lovi! I… I missed you, you know?'

He laughed softly and folded one of his hands around my hand, the one that was resting on the table.

'W-well, that's good.' I muttered, nonchalantly opening a menu card (wasn't easy with one hand, but I still managed to do it) and forcing myself to look at the many tasty dishes and _not_ at the delighted Spanish man next to me.

'H-hm… I'm not _that _hungry, really, so I think I'm going for just a simple, small _focaccia_ – the _pizza bianca_-variant. Wh-what about you?'

I sheepishly poked Antonio's hand, without looking at him, because I knew if I looked at him, things would happen – it had already been over more than three hours since the last time he kissed me, after all…

But Antonio didn't answer me, he only let go of my hand, placed his one on the side of my resolutely turned-away face and gently guided it his way, not-stopping until th-those green orbs of his found mine own brownish ones again.

'Wh-what are you…' I murmured as his _other_ hand was carefully pressed against… well, the _other_ side of my face, and swallowed the rest of my sentence when I felt he was now holding my (already _burning_) face in his hands, his smile never faltering as he shut his eyes, pulled me closer and kissed me full on the mouth.

Oh.

_Oh._

…

O-okay…

Even though I had seen it coming, seen it coming from far, _far _away, I was still overwhelmed by the sudden clash of lips and teeth and felt myself stiffening a bit under his nevertheless sweet, blissful touch, grabbing his wrists in a reflex before I…

…b-before I simply _melted _into his openmouthed kiss, stopped hesitating and kissed him back, my tongue briefly, almost shyly slipping in and out of his mouth, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier as his sighing and panting increased…

…

…o-oh my god, _fuck_ the fact that this was a _grave_ violation of some of our Very Important Basic Rules of the also Very Important No Sex Pact and _fuck_ the fact that everybody was probably watching us – this was just way too _amazing, _so very _amazing_, so very _wanted, _I had waited _so long _for this, oh _yes, oh_…

But eventually, Antonio pulled back (rather abruptly too, if you ask me), his way of breathing ragged and weird, his forehead pressed against mine as he let out a short, satisfied laugh, his fingers caressing my flushed cheeks.

'God,' he wheezed, brushing some long strands of hair out of my face, '…please forgive me for kissing you like this all of a sudden, but… but this was a chance I _had _to take, Lovi…'

'Wh-what the hell are you talking about…' I panted, slowly letting go of his wrists, '…d-don't act like I've never put on a dress for you before, y-you perverted bastard…'

'Not talking about the dress, sweetie…' He pressed a finger against my sticky lips and chuckled, '…ah, I'm talking about that rosy, sparkly stuff on your lips…'

I shivered a bit. _Ugh_, that's _right_, I actually kissed him while wearing fucking _lipgloss_…

Antonio grinned. 'Are you ever going to wear it again, Lovi?~'

'Wh-what, lipgloss?'

'Yes?'

'_Never_.' I hissed. 'Never _ever _again.'

Antonio nodded and pressed another quick kiss on my lips.

'Ah, good – I didn't like it that much anyway. It tastes like… like…'

'Like…?' I looked up at him in slight amusement.

'Rainbows.' Antonio decided.

'_Rainbows_?' I frowned. 'You think it tastes like _rainbows_?'

'Well, I'm not _sure_, I never tasted a rainbow…' Antonio slowly said, now pushing his thumb against my lips to rub the remains of gloss off them, '…but I _do _think I like your natural, _naked_ lips better.'

'You like them better than rainbows?' I smiled faintly, feeling slightly relieved.

'Oh yes. Your natural lips don't leave glitters on my teeth, after all. That's the bad thing about shiny lipgloss.'

'It makes your food crunchy, though.'

Antonio laughed and wanted to say something again, but we both were distracted when Germany all of a sudden coughed – _loudly _coughed.

'Well. That was very interesting. But it's over now.' he said, looking and sounding like a heavily traumatized newscaster, his face flustered. 'And thank _god _it'sover.'

'Oh, I _doubt_ it's over already.' Hungary said, smirking creepily as she put away her camera – wait a minute, had she fucking _taped _us? – and pulled her menu-card closer.

'Hmmm, maybe I'll go for a _focaccia _as well…'

'I know I am!~' Antonio said.

'_**No**_!'

Feliciano, who, admittedly, hadn't been the center of attention for over more than three minutes now and was probably _dying_ inside because of that, jabbed a finger on the cards of both Hungary and Antonio.

'…veee, you _**must**_ take _**pasta**_, Big Sister Eli – and you too, Big Brother-In-Law Toni! It's _good_! It's _cheap_! And you bet the pasta tastes the best when it's made in _Italy_ itself!~ Right, Lovin_**a**_?~'

'Fuck you.' I bluntly said.

'Hmmn, but even though I like pasta, I still prefer a _focaccia_, I'm afraid…' Hungary mused, '…ah, sorry for that, Veni.'

'And I… um…' Antonio smiled nervously, '…I'm sorry, but I don't like _anything_ pasta-related, Feli… ahahaha…'

Feliciano gasped and abruptly raised from his chair, almost bumping against a waiter.

'What? You don't like _pasta_? _**Blasphemy**_! And _you_ are marrying _my _bro- sister? Who _are _you!'

'U-um…' Antonio paled.

'Lovi!' My brother stared at me in total _shock_. 'Did you hear that? Your lover… he _hates_ pasta!'

'Look, Feliciano. Look at all the fucks I give.' I said, drawing a huge "0" on my napkin and pointing at it.

Feliciano pouted. 'B-but Lovi, that's a zero…'

'Well aren't _you_ a rocket scientist!'

'Veee… you're mean…'

'Hey.'

Germany suddenly placed a large hand on my brother's pathetic little shoulders and gave him one of his famous stern, serious looks.

'If your brot- _sister _should be mad at her lover because of his dislike of pasta, then I think I should be mad at _you_ as well, you know. According to your weird little theory, at least.'

'Huh?' Feliciano made a face. '…what? But you don't have to be mad at me – I _love _pasta!'

'Well, sure. But I'm not talking about pasta – I'm talking about the food that _I_ love and that _you_ despise. I mean, you don't like potatoes or _wurst_, do you? Still, it's my favorite food.'

'…y-yeah, that's true…' Feliciano muttered.

'But that doesn't mean I… love you any less because of that.' The blonde smiled and squeezed his shoulders. '…I still wish to marry you – and really, not-having the same tastes in food would be a _very_ silly reason not to marry with someone you love, don't you agree?'

My brother frowned and had an expression that said "I wouldn't be too sure about that though veee veee veee", but he wisely kept quiet and smiled at his way too broad fiancé, nodding.

'You're probably right, Ludwig!~'

'Glad you admit it.' The bigger person sighed and let go of Feliciano. '…now, could you please stop bothering the others? They can decide what to pick on their own very well, I believe.'

'I know they can!' Feliciano said, with a (scheming!) little pout, '…I just want them to order pasta… is that too much to ask?'

'They _won't _order pasta. You heard them. They'll order something else. But…' The German looked up to the sky and ran a hand through his hair, '…if pasta means _that_ much for you, I guess I'll order some of it as well, then… to honor your roots, or whatever…'

'Really?~ Ah, thank you so much, Luddy! Veee… you're the best!~' Feliciano sounded thankful, but _hell_, I heard the small snicker that escaped from his lips – and had to smile and shake my head.

Oh, I saw what he did there.

Like me, my brother _knew_ the pasta that was served here would be way too much for ordinary, non-Italian "people" like Antonio, Hungary and Germany – so that meant Germany would have to share his meal with Feliciano, and _that _meant the sly little asshole would get a _lot_ more pasta than planned, without having to pay extra for it.

Feliciano and honoring his roots? _Pssssssh_.

Getting more food for free – _that _had been his scheming little plan. Why else did you think he had insisted Antonio and Hungary to order pasta as well?

Cunning.

_Very_ cunning, Feliciano.

Just keep that act up and Italy will be freed from its debts in no time.

…

Well, at least we won't be hungry.

Not as long as he had Germany tightly wrapped around his faggish little finger.

**xXx**

The lunch at _La Bogetta del Caffè_ was great, but that was no big surprise for me – I had _expected_ it to be great. I had eaten here before, after all, and besides, it was a _Roman_ lunchroom – the food served here _had _to be fantastic.

And yes, the wonderfully presented _focaccia _tasted heavenly good – it was like a small, but amazing party going on in my mouth, and I could see from the corner of my eye that Hungary and Antonio were thinking this as well, the two of them obviously enjoying every little bit of deliciously flavored dough that disappeared in their mouths.

'This is _great_, Lovi!' Antonio told me right after swallowing another piece of _focaccia_, smiling at me in excitement.

I proudly grinned back at him.

'_Heh_, I could have told you _that _much – it's _Italian_ food, the _best _food there is, and… and…'

I paused and scowled at him.

'What?' Antonio asked, blinking, '…do I have something on my face?'

'Don't you _always _have something on your face?' I huffed, grabbing his collar and pulling his face closer.

'Dammit, you and your "talent" to eat like a fucking toddler… wait…'

I wetted a finger and pushed it against the red smudge of tomato-sauce on Antonio's cheek, rubbing it harshly.

Antonio winced a bit and narrowed one of his eyes, but didn't lose the happy smile on his face.

'Ah, you're so _caring_, Lovi…~'

'L-like hell!' I lied, '…I-I just don't want to walk around with an idiot that has got shit smeared all over his face, s-so don't get me wrong!'

He didn't say anything – he only lookedat me.

And smiled.

But… not very _innocently_ anymore.

O-oh.

…

My mind was blank for a minute as well, until I very impulsively traced my finger down to his mouth and swiftly slid it in-between his lips.

'Suck it.'

Antonio's eyes grew and he gave me a questionable look.

Followed by a _smirk_.

'Wh-_what_!' I frowned, getting a bit redder now that my temporary courage was fading, '…I-I went through the trouble of cleaning your face for you, I… I even _sacrificed_ my precious finger for you just to do that, and now you don't even want to do as I say? J-just get that sauce off my finger, y-you moron…'

Antonio stared at me for a bit longer, before he nodded, leaned forwards and eagerly and _oh so teasingly_ sucked in _all_ of my finger, his tongue experimentally swirling around the digit, his somewhat darkened eyes strictly focused on my flushed facial expression.

'Um… ah, I…' I started, stammering, making a tiny sound when he now began to slowly thrust my finger in and out of his merciless mouth, in and out, in and out…

…w-while his eyes… kept on _watching_ me.

…_like what I'm doing, Lovino?~ Try to imagine my mouth somewhere __**else**__, ahahaha…_

…

F-fuck…

'S-stop it, stop it, d-dammit…' I panted quietly, screwing my eyes shut and spastically trying to cover the growing bulge underneath my cutesy little dress by pulling the fabric a bit tighter.

'Yes – _please _stop.'

Germany's gruff voice made me open my eyes, _straight _into his disapproving face, his blue eyes staring icily at Antonio. Next to the German, Feliciano was shamelessly stuffy his face with pasta, not even paying attention to me and his – oh god – soon to be brother-in-law.

'I'm sorry, Antonio, but _really_, there are people _eating _here. Isn't that right, Feliciana, Elizabeta?'

Neither Feliciano or Hungary were able to answer Germany though, since Feliciano had his mouth (and nose and wig) filled with pasta and meatballs, and Hungary was way too busy desperately trying to calm a sudden yet very _fierce_ nosebleed-attack with six napkins and the tablecloth, and let's face it: six napkins and a tablecloths up your nose didn't exactly make talking any easier.

Antonio glared at the German, but obeyed and pulled my finger out.

'Ah… well, sorry for that…'

Germany snorted – and stabbed Feliciano's wandering hand that was dangerously approaching a lonely meatball.

'_Youtch!_' Feliciano squealed.

'Look,' Germany continued, ignoring my brother, '…I _know_ it's hard to prevent yourself from… touching your partner like that, especially now that you've found a way to do so, but can't you save it for _later_? I don't think it's very appropriate to be giving those… _signs_ in public. Not even in Italy.'

'He's got a point, you know?' I huffed at Antonio, conveniently forgetting that I had been the one who had initiated the Spaniard's smutty display of affection.

'I know, I know, but…'

Antonio turned to look at me and then took my hands in his, quickly, but surprisingly gently intertwining our fingers together. The green of his eyes – r-_really_, what the fuck was up with his eyes today, d-dammit – was sparkling and bright as ever and he gave me a bashful smile.

'…but Lovi, you look so _stunning_! So very _stunning_… god, you're so beautiful, sweetie! You make me feel like the happiest man alive!~'

I spread my eyes wide for a moment, but then narrowed them, scowling.

'…shit, I _know _that you like it when I dress myself up as a girl, but don't you think you're acting way too delighted now? D-don't you think I'm prettier... I-I mean **_cooler_** _without_ a dress, dammit…'

'I _do_!' Antonio immediately said, '…don't get me wrong here, Lovi: of _course _I think you're prettier without a dress! It's just that this whole pink package… all that I have to _peel_ _off_ you before I can admire you and all your beauty… all that's hiding your irresistible body from me… _god_, it's almost too enticing and too _much_ for someone as simple as me to handle… it's like you're constantly _teasing _me with your frilly dress and all its inviting folds and fake innocence…'

'Oh.'

I blushed again.

'T-that's good to know…'

Antonio grinned and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.

'Don't worry. _Nothing_ beats you the way you are, my love. Not even glittery rainbows and girly dresses.'

After hearing that, I could only laugh.

…

J-just a bit, of course.

Not that I giggled or anything.

…

NO, I DIDN'T.

…

Okay, I did. So what?

A-_anybody_ would have giggled in that situation, dammit…

**xXx**

Well, after having eaten and having paid for our lunch (and after Hungary had regained her senses again and had stuffed the both of her nostrils with some more napkins), it was time to discuss about some serious matters, like what Hungary had arranged for us during the past week, and…

…

…well, and what the _fuck_ the five of us were doing in Rome anyway.

'That last question of yours is a pretty obvious one, Roma!' Hungary said, as the five of us left _La Bogetta del Caffè_ and walked back to the shopping boulevard.

'It is?' Antonio asked.

'Sure!~'

Hungary nodded – but didn't look at him.

'…after all, the _main_ reason why we are in Rome is because you lovely sweethearts need to buy yourself some cool wedding suits. And where can you buy better wedding suits than _here_, in a city as fashionable as Rome?'

I frowned and opened my handheld parasol – wh-what, that sun was shining _really _hard!

'Yeah, Rome is great, no doubt about that, but… don't you think it's a bit hypocrite to go shopping at times like these, like we have no worries in the world? Feliciano and Antonio and me are poor as hell at the moment, and we… we don't have a big budget, I fear…'

Feliciano gasped, looking at me.

'Veee, are you saying we should get married in shabby clothes, Lovi? _Really_? That's _nothing _like you!'

I shot him a pissed glare. 'So what? Manliness is nothing like _you_ and yet you still have a penis. That's life – filled with unexpected surprises.'

Feliciano made a long face and stuck out his tongue.

I just flipped him off.

Germany grumbled and grabbed Feliciano's hand, pulling him closer.

'If you really want to pass as a girl, you and your brother should act like girls already – and not like two bickering transvestites. You got that?'

'Veee… yes, Ludwig…'

Wait – _what_ did that muscular potato-asshole say?

'_Hey_!' I snarled, speeding up my pace to keep up with the German and my brother, '…who are you calling a transvestite, you fucking—'

My voice seemed to get stuck in my throat as my hand was captured as well, and I couldn't get any sound out of it – _not_ when I noticed Antonio was the one holding my hand, smiling blissfully at me.

'Now that you are dressed up like this, we... w-we can hold hands as well, Lovi!~ As _lovers_! Which we are! Isn't… isn't that _great_?~'

I looked at his happy, relieved face and felt myself nodding automatically, slowing down my speed of walking – couldn't keep up with the German bastard anyway – and gripping his hand a bit better.

'It really is great, y-yes.'

'Makes you want to forget about snapping at your brother and Ludwig, right?~'

I rolled my eyes. '_Almost_.'

'Fair enough!~'

Antonio grinned broadly, turned my hand and lifted it up to his lips, pressing a few small kisses to the back of it.

I blushed fiercely and wanted to hiss at him not to overdo it – because no matter how feminine I looked, I was still nothing more but a male in a dress, after all – but… well, I knew _myself_ just how long I had longed for a opportunity to walk with him in the great city of Rome like this, hand in hand, as two lovers, not having to worry too much about what others would think about us since we were too busy enjoying each other's company and such…

…t-that sounded great…

So whatever.

What the fuck _ever_.

Screw the world. _I_ wanted it, and I knew _he_ wanted it as well, so if Antonio wanted to kiss my hand and be sneakily romantic with me, he could just go ahead and kiss and romance me until I couldn't see straight anymore for all I cared.

As… as long as we had fun. That's… that's all that mattered, yes…

'You know what would be nice, Lovi?' Antonio suddenly asked, as we walked behind Feliciano, Germany and Hungary.

'I know _tons _of things that would be nice.' I answered bitterly, looking up to him from underneath my parasol.

He smiled and carefully pushed the lacey thing back a bit.

'Ah… well, I was thinking… it would have been nice if we could have our honeymoon here.'

I got quiet for a second.

'Y-yes…' I finally muttered, looking in front of me again, '…that would've been _very _nice, but… I don't feel like wearing a dress every single minute of our honeymoon.'

'I know. Ah, I know… therefore, it would've been nicer if you… and I… well, if _we _could just be ourselves on our honeymoon. But in that case, we haven't got a lot of honeymoon-options left, I fear… most countries that accept and _respect _same sex couples like us are… not really _mind-blowing_ honeymoon-destinations…'

I blinked in surprise and glanced up at his thoughtful face. He rubbed over his chin with his free hand and… he looked kind of troubled.

'You sound like you've already did some research, haven't you?' I commented with a soft smile, poking him with my parasol.

Antonio laughed, giving me an admiring look.

'Guilty!~ I wanted to know a bit more about it, so I went and search a bit on the internet about… same sex-stuff. How did you find out?'

I snorted. 'I know _you_. That's all I need to know, really.'

'Ah…'

'Besides, I'm a fucking mastermind. And a _badass_-mastermind, too. Just how many _cool, manly _guys do you know that would willingly dress themselves up as a woman, in… in this kind of situation?'

I gave the Spaniard an insisted stare.

Antonio reacted with a gentle chuckle and pulled me a bit closer.

'If you put it like _that… _only _you_, Lovi…'

'T-that's right.'

I huffed, closed my parasol and awkwardly wrapped both of my arms around his arm, hugging it.

'…d-don't you dare forgetting about that, y-you bastard…'

'I won't, my love. You know I won't.'

I felt he pressed a kiss on my wig – stupid fucking wig dammit – and took my faggish parasol from me.

'Let me hold that for you.'

'Why?' I frowned at him. 'I think I'm strong enough to hold that fluffy thing.'

Antonio's face immediately colored bright red.

'I-I know, but… if I hold your parasol, it's… it's easier for you to hold _me_. L-like this, I mean. Ahaha…'

'You…' I squeezed his arm a bit tighter, '…y-you like it when I cling to you like this?'

'Oh _god_.'

Antonio swallowed, avoiding my questioning eyes.

'I… I think I'd scare you if I told you just how much I love it whenever you hold me…'

'T-that much, huh?'

'Y-yes.' He nodded. '…it's nice to be held by… by you, Lovino…'

I smiled again – this was really becoming a nasty habit of mine but I couldn't help it, I _had _to smile whenever Antonio was acting so fucking _sweet_ – and closed my eyes, nuzzling his arm.

'Likewise, Antonio… l-likewise…'

Antonio only blushed some more.

He still had that troubled expression, though.

…

…

'Hey.'

I pulled Antonio's arm.

He looked down at me, his weakened smile growing a bit.

'Yes?~'

'Spain's good, too.'

'Huh?' Antonio looked confused.

'T-the destination for our honeymoon.' I bashfully plucked the short sleeve of his shirt. '…Spain's good. You… you don't have to worry yourself about where the hell we should go to and shit like that. As… as long as I'm with _you_, I'm happy.'

'Really…' Antonio bit his lower lip. '…I wanted the destination to be… more _special _for you, though. I don't expect us to get married ever again after this, so…'

'_Antonio_.' I firmly interrupted him. '…Spain's okay. Spain's MORE than okay. And to me, Spain's _more_ special than any other country you can think of – aside from Italy, of course – for _multiple _reasons.'

'Lovi…'

Antonio stared at me, looking a lot more cheerful, but not quite sure about what to say to me in response.

'I…' I gulped, but forced myself to continue and look right back at him, '…I'd love… to go to a nice hotel next to a beach. F-for our honeymoon. That… I-I think that'll be great, Antonio… It'll be… it'll be wonderful to wander around the beach with you at night…'

'L-Lovi…' Antonio said again, his voice unsteady.

'Wh-_what_, dammit. Don't look at me with such watery eyes, y-you fucking moron…' I puffed my cheeks. '…it's… it's only _normal _that I… t-that I want to be romantic with you during our honeymoon, s-so don't you fucking cry, y-you wuss…'

'I-I won't! I won't…' Antonio quickly and clumsily wiped some slyly escaped tears from his eyes.

'But… A-Antonio?'

'Y-yes…?'

I took a breath – not a deep one, but still, I needed to take a breath.

'I-if you still feel like crying… d-do you think a kiss could help? T-to make you feel better?'

The Spanish man watched my slowly reddening face for a minute or two before he sort-of understood what I was trying to say, and stopped walking.

'A kiss… from _you_, you mean?'

'W-who else, d-dammit…' I nodded, fidgeting.

His eyes softened and he turned me his way, placing both of his hands on both my shoulders, squeezing them carefully.

'_Always_, sweetie…'

He leaned towards me, waited until I had breathlessly tilted my face up a little bit and gave me a soft, loving kiss.

'…a kiss from your sweet lips _always_ makes me feel better…' he mumbled when he pulled back – and smiled so fucking _delightedly _at me that I could _feel_ it burning through my body, warming up my entire being.

Naturally, that… t-that left me speechless for a while, so I just cleared my throat, grabbed his hand again and pulled him with me in a weak attempt to catch up with my brother and the rest.

…

"Luckily" enough, they were pretty close by.

…

Yaaaaay.

**xXx**

'Oh! I still have _so_ _much_ to tell you!~'

I could vaguely hear Hungary's voice as she leaded me and the others through the busy, yet cozy streets of the Roman shopping boulevard – and boy, she sounded as peppy and energic and annoying as ever.

'I have to tell you about when you can get married, and what already has been arranged by me, and what still needs to be arranged by me – and _you_, of course… but first things first!~ We'll go buy you some suits now! And I know _just _the place!'

'But…' Germany frowned deeply, '…but don't you think we'll get strange looks when they discover who "_**they**_" really are?'

He clumsily pointed at the goofball hanging on his arm and me, in case she had forgotten who "they" were.

'Trust me!' Hungary beamed a bright smile at the blonde German, winking and making a little twirl like she fucking owned the street at the same time (why, just _why_), '…when I say I know the right place, I _**know **_the right place!~'

'Yay!~' Feliciano cheered.

Antonio grinned as well. 'I had expected nothing less from you, Hungary!~'

_Hungary_.

Suddenly, a huge stone seemed to fall down in my stomach, making me flinch and dig my nails in Antonio's arm.

Not too much, fortunately, since he didn't seem to notice and even started a friendly conversation with Hungary about her cleverness and greatness, to which Hungary reacted with flattered chuckles and excited nods of the head.

…

Yes, they… sure looked like the best of friends now.

Even though earlier today, I had seen she had tried to avoid talking to and looking at him as much as possible.

…

But… still, I… _couldn't_ feel _really _negative vibes coming from either of them, either…

Confusing. Very, very confusing.

Could it be because Hungary and Antonio both had learned to repress their awkward, uneasy feelings around each other over the years? Or was it something _else_, something I didn't think of, something I could not yet understand up to this point?

…

It probably was just _that_, wasn't it?

…

I carefully looked up at Antonio, as secretly as I could. He was smiling broadly and talking enthusiastically about… well, something…

…

H-he…

…d-didn't look like someone who could…

…who could possibly…

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

He had been a nasty man in the past, yes. I knew that. He had told me himself.

And… and yes, he had also told me he'd probably have done the same horrible things as England, if… if destiny had given him the chances to do so, but…

…

He… wouldn't have actually raped somebody like Hungary, right? I mean, I don't think she was his enemy or anything, so… if she _wasn't_, then why… why would she imply… why would she suggest…

…

…

God, I want to know.

But at the same time, I really _don't _want to know.

But I _have _to know.

If… if I want to fully understand Antonio, I have to know.

'Ah, I can't _wait _to try out some suits, Lovi!~' said person's voice suddenly woke me up from my thoughts, and when I slowly looked up, I was immediately pulled in a tight hug.

'And don't you hold back, Lovino. Choose whatever suit you like. Nothing but the best for you, my love…' Antonio whispered in my ear, quickly peppering the skin right underneath my ear with kisses and other gentle, teasing touches.

'Y-yeah…'

I weakly patted his back, watching Hungary skipping into a huge shop.

'…for now, I'll… I'll just do that, yes…'


	54. Haunches

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: My mother recently found out I'm busy writing a huge fic when she came walking in my room and saw me grinning the creepiest of smiles because of some wonderfully nice comments someone – and you know who you are – had given to me. She wouldn't go away and kept on asking me why the hell I was smiling like that, and so, I told her. I ACTUALLY TOLD HER. WHAT.  
__Mind you – I __**didn't **__tell her __**what **__I'm exactly writing, but still. Now she knows of my sneaky writing-activities. Oh god. _XDDDD _I fear it's just a matter of time before she'll find out what I write, and then… well, I wonder what will happen then. Not much, probably: my mother's a very open and understanding parent and she knows writing means the world for me._^^  
_Still… I really hope she'll never find out, ahahaha…_^^;;;  
_Ah, anyway, she told me she was proud of me for writing a long fic in English.  
__Hee… my mom complimented me!~ Even though she has no clue what I'm writing about!~ _*flails all over the place* _Thanks mom!_

_A/n2: Coincidentally, I __**also**__ told my friends that I'm busy writing a long-ass fic, because they didn't buy my excuses why I couldn't join them to go for some shopping after school.  
__And… well, as I expected, they didn't understand. _:| _They looked at me kind of weirdly and asked me why, just __**why**__. __But… well, I didn't want to tell them about what I'm writing. Heh, can you blame me? NO WAY I'm telling them that I'm writing about… homosexual sex and stuff between FRIGGIN' COUNTRIES. Hell, their eyes would splat! They are kind of… narrow-minded, you see… _XDDDD  
_Let's hope they stop asking me about it… _

_A/n3: Remember what I said last week?~ You know, that there would be just seven more chapters left before this fic would come to an end? Well, guess what – it'll be **more** than just seven "mere" chapters before this fic ends!  
__Why?  
__Because I did something.  
__What?  
__It starts with a "R" and rhymes with gamble.  
__Ohhh, just – what – could – it – be!~ _XDDDD

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LIV:  
_**  
Haunches  
**__**(Salem**__**)**_

As soon as the four of us decided to follow Hungary into the big, flashy, luxurious-looking fashion shop, a tall, slim man that was standing at a counter and carefully sewing a sleeve to a black vest, looked up from his work.

And _scowled_.

'Yeeeeees, can I help you?' his high-pitched, feminine voice cut through the air, making both me and Germany (Feliciano and Antonio were unaffected for some reason – they were probably already too gay to react _normally_) shiver in response.

Hungary nodded, putting her hands on her hips.

'Yes, we—'

'_Yes_, you say? Well, I'm sorry, madam, but unless you have a reservation, I must ask you and your four unusual comrades to _leave_ this refined shop. ASAP.' the man said, continuing his work with a haughty (and kind of shrill) huff, '…this is _not_ some random shabby shack, you see. We don't help _any _skanky dressed lady that just waltzes in like that. Oh no. They must have made _reservations _first, like any person.'

He took a short, dismissive look at me and Feliciano. Then he looked back at Hungary.

'And the same thing goes for transvestites.'

…

WHAT.

That mean, thin, _greasy_ son of a _bitch_!

'Oh _yeah_? Maybe I should give you a reservation right between your fucking _eyes_!' I growled, fisting my hands in my dress, but Hungary calmly placed a hand on my arm and shook her head.

'It's alright, dear, don't needlessly crumple your dress and fold your cute face like that – it's just their _policy_. This _is_ an _incredibly _sophisticated men's fashion shop, after all, famous for its bridal collections. The respectable owner doesn't let _anybody _enter it – you have to make a reservation first, and once that's done, you can have the _entire_ shop for the rest of the day, as long as you wish.'

'Really?' Feliciano looked excited. 'Veee… that sounds _great_!~'

'That sounds _expensive_.' Germany corrected him. 'Just who in the world would need an entire shop for their own?'

'Anybody who wants to get married as soon as possible but don't have the right clothes for it yet.' Hungary said with a smirk, winking at the fat Italian man.

'…am I right, Mr. Pastaroni?~'

…

Pastaroni?

_Pastaroni_?

As in… pasta and macaroni?

…

_Christ_.

The anorexic man looked up at Hungary in surprise, seemingly a lot more interested now.

Then he smiled, wringing his hands together like creepy old guys always do in the movies.

'Excuse me, madam, but you seem to be familiar with this company's… _traditions_. Would you mind telling me your name?'

'No, I wouldn't mind that at all.'

Hungary's voice sounded arrogant and her face was surprisingly elegant, straight and stern as she deeply inhaled some air.

'It's Queen Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypannia the Third.'

Then she exhaled, her face still as straight as a fucking arrow.

…

…

Oh.

Alright then.

Antonio stared at Hungary's blank, emotionless face for a while before he suddenly made a weird, chortling, choked-up noise and clamped a hand over his mouth, snickering stupidly like a stupid snickering asshole while he disparately tried to keep himself from seriously bursting out in laugher – and he even had to clutch my shoulder hard to keep himself from _fucking falling_ _over_.

I didn't say much either – too bewildered. So I just allowed my jaw to drop down a few inches.

…

And I punched Antonio in the gut, since he hurt me with his fucking squeezing, that jerk.

'Veee… so Big Sis' name is Queen Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypannia?' Feliciano then repeated (not even _once _tripping over his tongue because of his special super-faggy-wuss-skills) and giggled.

'The _Third_.' Hungary frowned at him. '_Don't _forget the Third, dear. _Never_ forget the Third.'

'You mean there are _more _of you?' I muttered sarcastically.

Hungary gave me a mysterious smile that made me want to hide behind either Germany or Antonio, but preferably Antonio, since he smelt nicer.

And he had this ass.

…

You know what I mean.

Hungary chuckled.

'More of me, dear? Ah, but of course not – that's not necessary! After all, there's a little bit of me in _everybody_, Roma!~'

…

And _yes_, out of the blue, and right on cue, there were several _shocking_ pictures of all the people and nations I know floating around in my head, all with the head of _Hungary_ on their shoulders instead of their own.

Like Feliciano.

'_Veee, hi dear!~'_

…

…

Looks like I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

'Okay, that's just creepy. Cut it out. Even if you're just kidding.' I said, shuddering – and slapping myself in the face to erase the mental madness going on in my brain, all to the unsettling _delight _of Hungary.

'Hahahaha, oh, I wonder what you might be hitting yourself for!~ Hope it's because of something _naughty_…~'

'YOU NEED HELP, WOMAN.'

'Let's see… madam Queen Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypannia the Third, was it?'

Mr. My-Name-Sucks-Balls-aroni, who had been flipping through something like a guest list or whatever while Hungary was scaring the living daylights out of me, gave the sole female companion of my group a questioning look.

'Correct.' Hungary nodded, _immediately _and _effortlessly _turning on her solemn Elegant Rich Bitch-mode again, '…but _please_, call me Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypannia – it gets so long otherwise.'

'R-right…' The man laughed nervously. '…well, anyway, we have received your… oh, your expensi—I mean, _special _reservation, madam... um… madam Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypanna.'

Hungary wrinkled her nose.

'Frypannia.'

'…excuse me?'

'Frypann_i_a. _Not_ Frypanna. It's Frypannia.'

'Oh. Did I… oh. I'm so sorry.'

'Close call, Mr. Pastaroni.'

'Please forgive me, madam.'

'Madam _what_?'

'Madam Queen Elishabethana Hédervárywegia Hungarianabisk Frypannia.'

'…the…?'

'…the Third.'

Hungary smiled, satisfied.

'Alright, you and your _devilish~_ impishness of earlier are forgiven, Mr. Pastaroni. I think you and this _saucy _little shop are worthy of all my disgusting amounts of money after all.'

'Hooray.' Mr. Pastaroni smiled meekly.

Feliciano chuckled again. 'Disgusting amounts of money… Veee… Big Sister Elizabeta is so _funny_!~ She almost had me thinking we actually have money, haha!~'

'Ohh, you!~' Hungary laughed coyly. 'You're lucky I like you too much to smack your flawless face, Veni, so I'll just pretend I didn't hear you. But anyway!~'

She suddenly twisted around and clapped her hands in excitement, almost as if she had never been serious before, smiling an almost homicidal _slasher-smile_ at me, Feliciano, Antonio and Mr. Potato.

'Now that we have the flaky but extremely stylish Mr. Pastaroni on our side to help us out picking clothes and the like for your gaytastic wedding, I _do _hope the four of you are willing to do their best to make this a wonderful shopping experience!~'

…

…well, did we have a choice, really?

**XxX**

Now that Hungary had _carefully_ made clear to the lanky owner of the shop that the five of us – or at last _she_ – possessed a huge amount of spendable money, he suddenly became a _lot_ more interested in us.

And it showed.

…

A bit.

He was doing his best, at least.

'Well.'

Mr. Pastaroni put his notebook and needle away and made a bow for the five of us, smiling politely as he straightened his back and coughed.

'I'd like to welcome all of you in my humble shop _Bellezza Virile_ – famous for its progressive male clothing, especially the section that's all about weddings, parties and other interesting festivities. No matter _what_ you have in mind for your wedding, we have it in stock. As long as you have enough mone—I mean, _refined taste _in clothing, that is.'

Cue creepy shopkeeper-smile here.

Antonio and the others nodded and tried to act interested – and so Mr. Pastaroni's dusty and long story about the origin and development of his fantastic shop continued.

Which was about as interesting as watching hair grow.

So as the tall and thin man rambled on about the "cool and distinguished" usage of black and white in the "functionally modern" design of his shop, I decided to take a good look around me.

He wasn't lying about the colors – there really _weren't _any. Colors, I mean. Because black and white aren't colors.

…not sure about grey, though.

…

Whatever.

Anyway, the design of the shop was indeed kind of cool. Not a lot furniture or decoration at all here, aside from a few weird, mathematical statues and vases. I didn't mind it at all – minimalism was very fashionable in current Italian shops, after all. Probably because of the financial crisis, but I preferred to call this kind of style "_desperate muse_" rather than the more obvious "_we didn't have enough money to buy/design anything better so shut up and bow down to the greatness of this great ball-shaped thingamajig_"-style.

…

Well, I still liked it. Ball-shaped thingamajig or dramatic painting – as long as it had the typical, beautiful features that separated _art_ from useless shit, I was happy.

And I _was_ happy. So yeah.

We walked further through the shop, and so I took my time to study the different pieces of black, white and grey clothing around us, holding on to Antonio's arm as the pointless guided tour carried on.

It sure looked nice.

The clothes, I mean – _not_ the tour.

The clothes seemed to be custom-made, and since that Mr. Pasta-guy sounded like he really knew what good clothing was – he sure liked blabbering about it after all – I was getting excited and very eager to fit some suits.

Hmmm… but would I want a suit with a bowtie or just a simple tie?

…I _think_ I preferred a simple tie. I once put on a bowtie when I was younger and Feliciano kept on calling it a gay-propeller, until I smashed a tomato in his face and started bawling.

…

Wh-what! I was a _very_ sensitive little guy, dammit!

'Um, sorry, but I have a question.'

And then, Germany's ruff voice suddenly interrupted the monotonous story of Mr. Pastaroni, causing everybody – including me – to wake up and look his way.

Mr. Pastaroni was no exception and looked at the German with a displeased scowl, clacking his tongue and clicking his pink little ballpoint.

'You said you had a question, sir?'

'Yes. Um.'

Germany swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck.

'…um. Right. Um… do you know about… our situation?'

'Your _situation_, sir?' The thin man stressed the word, raising an eyebrow.

Germany hesitated.

'Um… well, I… _suppose_ you are very much aware of the situation… you know, the fact that two of the ladies in our company are actually… _men_…'

'Why of _course_ am I aware of that.' Mr. Pastaroni calmly said, glancing at both me and Feliciano. 'I have to admit that dresses seem to suit both of your friends very well, but still, judging the way that bubbly little green jailbait is treating his dress… and the way that pinkish sour vinegar-pisser is stomping around on his high heels…'

_Vinegar-pisser_?

'…no, I can definitely see that there are actually two not-unattractive men hiding underneath all those ruffles.'

Feliciano's eyes grew twice their size.

'Oh _wow_! It's a _detective_!'

'Oh no, dear, he's not a detective at all – he's just used to having men dressed as females wandering around in his shop.' Hungary, who quickly hooked arms with Mr. Pastaroni, informed us with a smile.

'That's right,' the man said, his voice breaking a bit when the horror named Queen Elisha-yadayadayada tightened her grip around his arm, '…it's not uncommon that Italian homosexual people who are planning to marry and move to a country that's somewhat more accepting towards them show up in my shop – and as long as they have enough cash—I mean, _faith _in me and my sense of style, all is good.'

'That's great!' Antonio said, nudging me with his elbow, '…heard that, Lovi? They're not _all_ homophobic in Italy!'

'Certainly not – homosexuals are way too good customers for me to shoo them away.' Mr. Pastaroni commented. '…so as long as they don't hump each other in the changing-room and/or soil my wonderful clothing, they are free to look around and empty their _big_, _loaded_ wallets. Empty them _right_ into my _open_, _welcoming_, _**trembling **_cash register. _Yes._'

…

An awkward silence followed.

'Anyway.'

Mr. Pastaroni, after a minute finally realizing his gross slip of the tongue, pulled his collar somewhat tighter and plastered another fake smile on his face. '…now that I've told you a bit about _Bellezza Virile _and have explained to you what our policy is towards customers – gay or not gay – I think it's time to put the four of you into some dandy wedding suits.'

'My exact thoughts.' Hungary agreed, kneading – yes, _kneading_ – his arm.

'Please stop touching me.' the man said.

'No. _Not_ before I've explained something to you and my friends first.'

Hungary gave him a friendly smile.

Mr. Pastaroni looked peeved and slightly panicked, but only uttered an exhausted sigh in response to that.

'Okay then!~'

The Hungarian woman pointed a finger to Antonio and Germany.

'Since the two of you are the grooms with about as much sense of fashion and style as a rock – a _dead _rock – you're coming with Mr. Pastaroni, to the left chambers of the changing-area.'

'Alright!' Antonio nodded. Germany only groaned.

The brunette then turned to me and Feliciano.

'And you two are the—'

Oh _no_.

'_Dare_ to say it.' I scowled, planting my hands on my hips.

The Hungarian woman blinked, looking annoyed. 'Dare to say _what_, dear?'

'You know what I mean! Call me and Feliciano the _brides_ and I swear I'll fucking smear my lipgloss all over you!'

Even though I knew she was the one who actually had my lipgloss in her bag _but who the fuck cares_.

'And _I_ won't watch girlish movies with you anymore!' Feliciano said, wagging his finger, '…unless you pay me for it and/or bribe me with pasta, because in that case, I'll happily watch it with you, veee!'

I ferociously rubbed my eyebrows, sighing deeply.

'Way to stick to your priorities, man.'

'What are priorities?'

'Nothing. Shut up.'

Naturally, Hungary was completely unfazed and unimpressed by our pathetic intermezzo and smiled.

'…well, and since _you_ two are the grooms with a _lot_ of taste – and even more crazy paranoia ideas, like that I would rather see you as girls instead of the handsome men you are – you are coming with me to the _right_ chambers of the changing area.'

'Oh.' I said, flabbergasted and feeling a bit guilty.

'But…' Hungary added with a smirk, '…of course, you are free to wring yourself and your girlish shapes into a dress if you really can't control yourself around a fancy wedding dress any longer, dear. I don't think there are a lot of those in this shop, but _if_ you happen to see one – please, go right ahead, I won't mind!~'

I growled, wincing.

'May I say that I second that?' Antonio enthusiastically said – and was quietly dragged away by Germany and Mr. Pastaroni _seconds_ later, after I had given him a nice fistful pound of embarrassed fury _right_ into his stomach.

Perverted bastard.

And then the changing could finally begin.

**XxX**

Just a little while later, I was, once again, standing in from of a _giant _mirror, on this large, wooden podium thing, surrounded by many bright lights that flawlessly enlightened the best but also the most _hideous_ parts of my body (which actually weren't _that_ hideous because I was looking unusually _hot_ at the moment), as I watched myself _working _the black suit I wore.

And _damn_, did I _work _it.

I smiled carefully at myself and loosely put my hands into the pockets of the comfortable black pants.

This was it, really.

This was _the _suit.

It was only the third suit I had tried on so far, but I already knew that this were the clothes in which I wanted to say… i-in which I wanted to say "I do" to Antonio.

Yes.

In _this_ suit.

With _this_ vest.

And _this_ tie.

…

Which _wasn't _a gay-propeller.

…

I-I wanted to marry Antonio with _all _of that was this suit.

The sophisticated, but smooth fabric of the complete suit fitted me perfectly and made me look like a… well, like a _groom_, really… a very dignified, manly, stylish and even kind of _slick _groom.

God, I could feel my confidence rising with every passing second and _oh_, I was _loving _it.

I grinned. I actually looked like an… an _adult _now.

An adult that knows what he's doing and who's _proud_ to have become the man he is.

And you know what? I _am_.

I am _very _proud to have become the man I am.

But even more than proud, I was thankful right now.

Yes. _Thankful_.

Thankful that I, at _this_ moment, was standing in the changing area - _completely _alone.

REST. _Finally_.

…

Too bad I could still hear some smothered sounds coming from out of the changing rooms right from the podium (= Hungary forcing Feliciano in yet another white, _angelical_ _beautiful_ suit while Feliciano made sounds like he was getting murdered) and left from the podium (= Germany making heavy breathing sounds while Mr. Pastaroni _audibly_ threw different pieces of clothing at him, accompanied by unintentionally funny tossing-sounds like "hmf!" and "whoop!" and "what about _this_ one!").

Oof. I shuddered involuntarily – and uttered a sigh of relief at the same time. Thank _god _Hungary and Mr. Pastaroni had both already agreed that this suit suited me wonderfully – it meant that at least _**I**_ was already ridded of their hellish meddling.

Yup, now all I had to do was wait for the rest to finish. But that was okay – I could wait, I had some really good-looking company.

I smiled knowingly at the Lovino in the mirror again.

…

Shit, just _look_ at me! I looked fucking _stunning_!

_Hurrr_, Lovino, you _tiger_!

Just as I was really getting into it and tried to make some pretty hot, muscular _humpf!_-positions, bending my arms and back _really_ sexily, Antonio walked out of his little cubicle, fumbling with his cuffs as he lazily made his way to the _other _podium, on the _other_ side of the changing-area.

And of course, I had to stare at him, since he looked…

H-he looked…

…

_Fiiiiiiine_.

He wore nice black pants and shoes.

And a white, sloppily-yet-fashionably-stuffed-into-his-pants-blouse.

And…

…

_Suspenders_.

…

A-Antonio wore suspenders over his blouse. Black ones, nonchalantly attached to his pants.

…

N-now, I knew that suspenders from the 20s or 80s or whatever were absolutely _awesomely_ stylish again these days, especially when they were worn by a handsome man, but…

…but come _on_, it was… _ridiculous_ just how _good _Antonio looked with them.

…

He did it on fucking purpose.

I _knew _he did.

Antonio must have felt my heated gaze (or must have smelt burnt fabric), because he all of a sudden looked behind him, a happy, but weak smile on his face as he watched me… watching him.

'Ah, hi Lovi!~ I didn't know you were standing there?'

'Well.'

I shrugged and slowly walked his way.

'…well, I was. Am, I mean. Standing here. That's what I was doing. Am doing. You know.'

Antonio made an acknowledging humming sound and then slid his eyes over me. Then he smiled, his face flushing.

'Y-you look really nice, Lovino…'

'Yeah. I know. I mean… yeah.' I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck, pausing my steps halfway, wondering what else I could say to that.

'What do you think about what I'm wearing?' Antonio asked me at that moment, hooking his thumbs behind his suspenders and cockily stretching them a bit.

'Um… you're… you're looking…'

I swallowed, but refused to fall back in my blushing and muttering habit and approached him until I was standing next to him, studying him in the mirror in front of us.

'…you're looking… v-very good, Antonio.'

'Really?' Antonio's reflection stared at me and tilted his head, '…well, the clothes and suspenders are certainly nice, yes, but don't you think these pants are a bit too tight on my butt?'

'Too tight, you say…' I repeated absentmindedly, staring at his ass as soon as he mentioned it.

'Yes – don't you agree?' I vaguely heard him ask, somewhere in the distance.

'No. No, I… I don't think it's too tight.'

I breathed in and out weirdly, too fascinated to look away from Antonio's seductive backside.

God, that fabric was fucking _hugging _that ass.

'I… I think it's perfect, really… really perfect…'

'Oh, if you and Mr. Pastaroni say so, then…'

Antonio's voice suddenly died a little. I was still too distracted by _certain_ curves to bother finding out why, until I somehow managed to look up anyway – _right_ into Antonio's smirking mug.

'Wh-what!' I stammered, almost jumping up in surprise.

'Like what you see, hmm?~' he grinned teasingly.

I opened my mouth to loudly voice my protest and denial, but instead of all that, I heard myself say something else.

'_Yes_.'

And before even giving myself the chance to carefully think it over, I abruptly took a step towards him, winded one of my arms around his waist and harshly pulled him against me, my free hand firmly, _greedily_ grabbing his _oh so heavenly _ass – and _squeezed_ it.

Antonio gave a startled yelp and tried to look over his shoulder to me, but failed since I held on to him tightly.

'L-Lovi?' he asked.

'God _yes_, Antonio…' I huskily panted against his back, against the thin blouse, excitedly rubbing my hand up and down his ass, '…I fucking _love _what I see…'

The Spaniard laughed, but it sounded more like heavy breathing to me.

'Ah, well… I'm… I'm flattered, Lovino…'

I amazed him and myself by uttering a soft, needy growl.

'You better be, dammit.'

Then I pressed open-mouthed kisses to his back (was aiming for his shoulder, went for his back instead when his shoulder turned out to be bit too high for me to reach), not caring about the fact I was busy ruining his clean blouse, still keeping a determined grip around his waist and (at the moment) right ass-cheek.

'Lovino…' Antonio gasped, sounding confused as well as aroused as well as nervous as well as…

Wait.

…

_Nervous_?

My feverish kissing and groping instantly stopped and I loosened my arm around his waist. I became even _more_ unsure about the whole experience when I heard him sighing as soon as I eased the pressure around him.

Sighing… in disappointment? In relief?

W-why had he been sighing?

'Lovino?'

Antonio now succeeded in looking at me and took the opportunity to turn himself towards me, looking at me a bit worriedly.

'What's wrong?'

'You…' I frowned, avoiding his questioning eyes, '…you sounded…'

'…turned on?~' Antonio chuckled.

'No – nervous.' I said.

'Nervous?'

'…y-yes, nervous. As… as if you were…'

_Scared_, I wanted to say, but I decided to keep that last part to myself – I didn't know how Antonio would respond to that.

'Ah, well, you _did _surprise me, you know?' Antonio told me, lifting my face up a bit. '…it's quite unusual for you to get so possessive of me in the middle of a shop!~'

My eyes spread themselves in shock.

'F-fuck, almost forgot we're in a public place!'

'Yes!' Antonio nodded, fixing his clothes, '…god, and, like I said, you sure surprised me! You were really sexy, Lovi, and I sure love that side of you, but… I really don't want to know what that Mr. Pastaroni would have said if he had caught us in such a suggestive position… just imagine what we could have had to pay if he saw you sucking on his precious, _expensive_ blouse…'

He shuddered a bit, grinning goofily at me.

'Not that I didn't like it…~'

…

Oh.

_Ohhhhh_.

I see.

'So… so that's why you…' I started.

'Hm?' Antonio blinked.

'Um.'

I suddenly felt like a huge idiot and rubbed my arm, embarrassed to the bone.

'…so _that's_ why you… acted kind of… nervous and… s-scared…'

'Well, yes!' Antonio nodded, a blush filling us his face, '…I mean… you know how poor we both are at the moment, so… just the thought of accidentally ripping/ruining something… oh, it's so _dreadful_!'

'Y-yes, it is.' I agreed – but maybe a bit too quickly, because the oblivious look on Antonio's face suddenly made room for a more serious face.

'Lovino?' he slowly said.

'Yes?'

'You're not telling me you thought I was scared of _you_, are you?'

'Erhm.' I twiddled my fingers.

Antonio huffed, frowning.

'I'm _not _scared of you. And I'm also not scared of letting you take over control.'

'But it has been a while since somebody has done that, right?' I heard myself ask.

'Well, yes.'

Antonio was quiet for a second.

'It's true, it _has_ been a while since the last time somebody topped me, yes. But… Lovi, that doesn't mean I can't give in to the dominating flirtations of the one I love...'

'Is it difficult?'

He looked at me. 'What?'

'Topping.' I said. 'Is it difficult?'

Antonio couldn't suppress a smile.

'Ah, you ask me this _now_? While we're in a wedding shop? I think it's a more appropriate question to ask me later, when we're lying in our bed, my love…'

I yanked on his sleeve and made a face.

'Just _tell_ me. Is it difficult?'

Antonio bit his lower lip thoughtfully, but didn't say anything. He looked away from me.

'It… it _is_, isn't it?' I decided, '…it _is _difficult! Because you're probably constantly afraid to hurt the other… right?'

'A-ah… well…' Antonio hesitated, '…that's true, but... after a couple of times, when you learn you _really_ love, _really_ trust each other good enough to be in a sexual and loving relationship together, that silly fear ebbs away, since you slowly but surely get to know just _what_ hits the right buttons for both you and your partner. But… in the beginning…'

He got quiet again.

'A-Antonio?' I pulled his sleeve again – now a friendlier tug.

'During our first time…' He pursed his lips, '…I was scared to _death_ I'd hurt you. I was even more clueless about that unusual feeling of love I felt for you than I am _now_, after all… but…'

'Antonio…'

'I'm not finished yet.'

I shut up.

He cleared his throat.

'…but… but _afterwards_, when I saw you smiling that stubborn half-smile of yours at me, and heard you panting so softly, and felt you cuddling against me…'

Antonio laughed quietly.

'…right then, I realized I had worried myself for nothing.'

'You had.' I said.

'Right?~' He smiled again.

'So… what you're actually saying is…' I muttered, shyly – yes, I was shy again, _big deal_ – wrapping my arms around him,

'…you're actually saying that… as long as… th-there's a lot of sappy love and fluffy shit and trusting and stuff going on between two lovers, that… that it's going to be okay? Sex and the like?'

'Ah, I guess?' Antonio said, happily letting himself get hugged.

'Then what the fuck are you _talking_ about, topping being difficult and shit.' I grumbled, closing my eyes as I nuzzled his chest, '…you stupid liar. I… I fucking _love _you, love you the most of all people and nations in the world, so…'

'So…?' Antonio affectionately stroke my back.

I looked up at him, resting my chin against his chest.

'…s-so you bet your hot ass I'm… I'm going to prove that to you during our wedding night, d-dammit…'

'Lovi…'

I fisted my hands.

'I-I'm going to love you like nobody else has ever loved you, y-you bastard… be-because… you deserve it… y-you deserve it so _much_…'

The Spanish man didn't know what to say, so he leaned forwards and briefly kissed my forehead.

Then he pressed me against him, sighing softly.

'Thank you, Lovino. Thank you so much, my love…'

I could have asked why the hell he was thanking me.

…

I didn't, though.

I think I already knew.

**xXx**

All this time, Feliciano, Germany, Hungary and the thin man with the stupid name had been dressing themselves in the cubicles.

_Yes_.

_All_ this fucking time.

When I was feeling up Antonio and breathing down his neck like some rabid dog – they had been cheerfully dressing themselves in the cubicles.

When Antonio was asking me if I thought I was making him nervous and scared – they had been joyfully dressing themselves in the cubicles.

When both me and Antonio were hanging in each other's arms and acting like the huge pussies we were – they had been delightedly dressing themselves in the cubicles.

Dressing themselves.

In the motherfucking.

Cubicles.

But as soon as I let go of Antonio, _there _they suddenly were, streaming out of the changing rooms like _batshit insane salmon_, hurrying themselves to the podiums and mirrors as fast as they could, barely giving attention to us.

…

Really strange.

Really _really _strange.

At first I thought they were shitting us, that they had actually been watching and spying on us this whole fucking time, but…

When Hungary finally focused her attention on us again and asked us with a very sunny, but _completely sincerely innocent _voice if anything was the matter ("because you sure are staring at me a lot, Roma… don't tell me – did I made you jealous and angsty because of my help to Veni?~"), I knew it for sure:

Lady Luck was on _my _side for once.

YES.

About TIME that damn bitch came by, dammit.

So as Hungary and Mr. Pastaroni continued their Germany and Feliciano-torturing, Antonio and I just put on our own clothes again and sat down on a simply, snow-white bench, waiting for the rest to finish.

…

…a-and maybe we held hands as we did so.

Hey, as long as the Lady was on my side, you bet I would milk the crap out of her.

…

Ew.

**XxX**

An fucking _hour_ later, we were finished.

It hadn't been easy – Germany's arms had turned out to be way too fat and broad for most tuxes and Feliciano's legs had been way too skinny and twiggy for most pants – but eventually, we could all proudly say that we had our fabulous wedding suits, ready to use.

And what a happy moment that was!

So after giving an exhausted, but nevertheless _very_ pleased Mr. Pastaroni a nearly orgasmic experience (when we paid for the clothes), the five of us walked out of shop _Bellezza Virile_ in good spirits!

Except that we _didn't,_ because we were cranky as hell.

Surprised? Well, you shouldn't be. Spending most of your afternoon inside of a shop while it's wonderful weather outside doesn't really have a positive effect on your mood, not even in Rome – and _that's _saying something.

Feliciano, who had suffered the most in the shop and had been the last one to find his ideal suit, looked kind of grumpy and swung his _Bellezza Virile_-shopping bags on his arms around like it were trash bags and didn't even try to act cute and feminine in his green dress anymore – he just walked around with this sulking look on his face and kept on nagging we should all keep up his pace, veee veee.

He didn't say a _lot _of veee's, though – and I never thought I'd say this, but I missed them. Feliciano just wasn't the same if he didn't attempt to annoy the rest of the world with the wonderful veee-word, so secretly, was hoping he'd feel better once we were leaving Rome.

Germany didn't look that happy either. He had been the second to last to finish scoring some suitable clothes and judging by the look on his face, I could say the tall blonde man really didn't had had a good time inside the shop.

His face was grey and blank and even though he carried his bags like they were empty or filled with feathers, he had a damn hard time walking around with them over the cracked streets of the Italian city. I think he had enough of Rome, as most tourists have enough of Rome after a afternoon shopping and realizing that the city was _fucking _expensive…

Antonio, who had been the first to find his suit after me, looked drained as well. Not exactly _cranky_ – he hadn't had suffered _that _much, after all – but not exactly _happy_, either. He just followed the rest in silence, yawning and sighing and, just like the others, _more _than just fed up with Rome.

I sneakily watched him from aside and felt slightly relieved – but also mournful – when I noticed that the Spaniard was probably way too tired and not-in-the-mood to let me continue my enthusiastic fondling of his butt that had started in the shop, so the No Sex Pact was once again saved, even though we _did_ do some… dangerous things today.

As for me… well, I felt…

…

Not too bad, actually.

Maybe it was a shocking realization, but I think I was the single person of or group who felt satisfied and at ease – could have been because I had "accidentally" forgot the wig and pink dress in one of the changing rooms of _Bellezza Virile_ and was now wearing my normal clothes again.

I didn't think the rest noticed or _cared_ though, because nobody had said anything about it when I departed from my cubicle wearing my normal clothes like the rebel I was, so… whatever.

Then Hungary. Hungary didn't look that exhausted or moody either, but that was because she hadn't been repeatedly flung in- and outside of clothes like my poor little brother, who by the way would have killed half of Rome by now already if looks could kill, because _damn_, he was _pissed_.

Nope, Hungary still had something of a good mood, although not as good as mine, and her steps were light and careless on the stone streets, every once in a while beaming a small smile at me and _only _at me, because the rest was way too busy going of their way to avoid looking or communicating with her: a whole afternoon of Hungary was a _lot _of Hungary to deal with, after all.

So Hungary and me walked behind the rest – and I couldn't escape the conversation with Hungary that eventually started between us, but since I was in such an unsettling good mood, I didn't even mind it that much.

…

Maybe I even _initiated_ the conversation.

Maybe.

'This has been a fun day, Hungary.' I said to her.

Hungary looked away from the slowly setting sun in the sky and smiled, folding her hands in front of her.

'Well, I'm glad to hear that, Romano, because I think you might be the only one who thinks that.'

'And now?'

'Hmm?' Hungary murmured.

'What's going to happen _now_?' I specified.

'Now?' Hungary laughed softly. '…now Spain and the rest is going to return to Spain's House and have some rest, while I'm kidnapping you to my country for tonight!~'

'To Antonio's House?' I gave her an odd look. 'Are you saying that Feliciano and the rest is going to sleep over at our—I mean _his_ place?'

Hungary uttered a disappointed sigh and shook her head.

'Don't go telling me you haven't heard _anything _of what I was telling Veni and the rest in the shop, now…'

'Um.' I hesitated.

'I knew it.' Hungary sighed again. 'I should have known. You and Spain were sitting so cutely together, there's no way you heard anything of what I said. Shame on you, Roma! Shame on you!'

She gave me a push – almost smacking me into a fucking letter box – and kept on walking.

'Wh-what have you told us, then?' I asked her, quickening my pace to keep up with her.

She rolled her eyes in protest, but answered me anyway.

'I told you and the others that I managed to arrange the wedding to happen next week – exactly _one _week from now, so that's why I want you and Spain and Veni and Germany to stay together for the rest of the week, because of all of the preparations that have to be done and such. The wedding's going to happen in a big, wonderful church in an equally big and wonderful city of Spain, but I've forgotten the names of both church and city, so I'll get back on that later.'

I was flabbergasted.

'Y-you've already set the date, you mean? And the place?'

'Yes.'

'But that's _great_, Hungary! You're amazing!'

Hungary's ego was flattered and she couldn't resist smiling a proud and surprised smile at me.

'Well thank you, Romano! You're actually the first one who responded so positively to this news, dear!~'

'I am?'

'Yes – Spain and the others weren't so thrilled, actually.'

I cocked my head to the side. 'Not even Antonio?'

She grinned. '_Especially _not Spain. Mind you, he was happy to know that he and you could get married so soon, but he was less than pleased to find out that this meant he had to put up with Feliciano, Germany and me for a bit longer… and _that_ means that you all probably won't have much of a sexlife in the following days.'

'Well dammit.' I calmly responded.

Hungary hadn't expected a reaction like that. 'That's all you're going to say?'

'Yep. It is the way it is, right?'

She chuckled, contently patting my shoulders.

'Ah, you really keep on surprising me today, dear!~ Veni's response was a lot less mature when he found out he and Germany wouldn't have much sex this week.'

I snorted. 'That spoiled brat. He should be fucking _thankful_ you actually got to arrange so much in just a week, dammit. And that goes for Antonio, too. I'll definitely snarl at the both of them later for not-showing you the respect you so rightfully deserve.'

'That's nice of you, dear.'

I nodded coolly. 'I _can_ be nice, yes. If I want to.'

Hungary gave me a serious look. 'No, you really _are _nice, Romano. You're naturally nice – it's just carefully hidden underneath that cute scowl of yours. Spain… well, he hit the jackpot when he got you as his boyfriend. He must be so happy to have you as his fiancé.'

'…y-yeah, sure.'

'And I think…' Hungary looked down at the ground and breathed out, '…I think I have pestered you enough with that mean assumption I left with you. And… I was _wrong_. Watching you struggle with so many feelings concerning Spain actually _didn't_ make me feel good about it, not at _all_, so... please forgive me.'

'Huh? What are you talking about?'

Hungary looked up at me again and smiled apologetically.

'Spain hurt me _very_ badly in the past, Romano – but he never raped me.'

I instantly felt like a giant boulder was lifted off my chest and after a second of letting this good news sink in, I sighed deeply, clutching my chest.

'Th-thank god…'

I _knew_ it. I _knew_ he would _never_ carelessly rape just anybody. His enemies, maybe – but _not_ someone like Hungary.

'Sorry for giving you such a hard time.' Hungary said. '…try to see it as my lousy way of taking revenge on him without actually taking revenge, because if I really had wanted to take revenge, I'd have sex with you right in front of him and break every single piece of his heart.'

I gave her a questioning, startled look.

She friendly glanced back at me and shook her head again.

'I'll tell you the rest in Budapest, dear. Not here. We have to dump the rest first.'

'O-oh.' I felt myself nodding. 'Okay.'

It was a good thing I already saw Germany's car appearing in the distance.


	55. Seat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __Well, __the __moment __is __here: __Hungary __is __finally __telling __Lovi __about __her __past __with __Toni. __Expect __a __serious __and __long, __especially __**long **__chapter, __because __boy, __Liz__' __got __a __lot __of __things __to __tell __Lovino.  
__Now, there might be a (fat?) chance that I'm wrong about certain historical happenings. Even though I'm crazy about history and such, I don't know a lot about the history of Hungary or Austria, so if you might notice something that isn't accurate – sorry for that, but please know that I did my best to make it as accurate and believable as possible. _

_A/n2: Look at the title-song of this chapter. LOOK AT IT. Isn't it just wonderful? Isn't it just beautiful? Put that toilet seat down. DAT TOILET SEAT. I laughed so hard when THIS came up when I was looking on the internet for another song, I just had to pick it. Even though it hasn't got that much to do with an actual "seat", if you know what I mean.  
_…_although __maybe __it __has __got __more __to __do __with __a__ "__seat__" __than __I __originally __though__…  
_XDDD _I __REGRET __NOTHING~_

_A/n3: Still waiting for that hug, Mony.  
__*sneaks back into her lurk!bush*_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LV:

_**Put That Toilet Seat Down  
**__**(Brad Paisley)**_

'You're not coming with us?'

Antonio's eyes became even duller than they already were at this point and he made a long face, gently taking my hands in his – and ignoring the few slightly startled looks some Italian pedestrians immediately gave to us as he did so.

'N-no.' I shook my head a bit, gnawing on my lower lip. '…I have an appointment with Hungary in Budapest, remember? I told you.'

'Yes, I know, but…' Antonio sighed. '…it's almost evening already, and the thought of you, walking around in Budapest at night with someone like Hungary…'

He glanced behind him, at the green-eyed brunette that was now busy "helping" Feliciano and Germany with packing their suits into Germany's (literally) grey Volkswagen.

'No no _no_, Germany, that's no way to pack a freshly-bought suit! Be more careful! You should treat your tux like you should treat a nice warm night full of _body__language _between you and Veni: _sweetly_ and _roughly_.'

'That… that makes no sense.' Germany said with a confused frown

'And yet it does.' Hungary said.

'No, it doesn't. It really, _really_ doesn't, Hungary. How can you treat a suit like you treat someone you're having intercourse with?'

Hungary gasped in disgust, wringing her face.

'Germany! You _shock _me, you big, emotionless bear! Don't call the wonderful act of passionate lovemaking something _blunt _and _sexless _like "intercourse" – that's just _nasty_! And _barbaric_! And _not _in a good way!'

'Oh, and comparing packing suits in a car with having sex _isn__'__t_nasty?' Germany countered.

Hungary smiled knowingly, as she tended to do whenever she had to defend her messed-up point of view of the world.

'No, Germany. Comparing packing suits with having sex isn't nasty. _Not_ as long as you pack the suits exactly like I'm telling you to pack them: _sweetly_. And _roughly_, too. By rubbing – no, _stroking _them.'

The blonde German blinked.

'…_stroking_, Hungary?'

'Yes. Yes, maybe you should… _stroke _the suits, Germany… stroke them _right _into the trunk…'

'…'

'Do it, Germany. Just imagine those suits are Veni and _do __it_.'

Hungary put a resolute hand on his shoulder and gave him a _burning_, _insisting_ look.

Germany now looked _seriously_ freaked out.

Something the Hungarian woman naturally interpreted _completely_ wrongly.

'Don't be scared. It's okay. I have faith in you, my friend. And so do the suits. Now please them.'

Meanwhile, Feliciano simply ignored everything that was going on around him and grumpily stuffed both his and Germany's suit in the trunk, not even caring that a part of his expensive purchase was hanging outside of it, fluttering in the wind.

He cared even less about the expressions on both Germany's and Hungary's face as he stepped into the car and left them staring at the helplessly swaying sleeve dangling out of the trunk.

Antonio shivered and turned his face back to me.

'See what I mean, Lovi? Do you understand why I'm worried about letting you hang around with Hungary – _alone_?'

'Well, yes,' I admitted, trying to look away from Hungary and Germany's thunderous yelling at a _very_uncaring Feliciano, '…I… understand why you're worried, but… it'll be alright.'

'You sure?' Antonio looked concerned, lightly rubbing one of his fingers over the back of my hand.

I nodded. 'Hungary's been really nice and kind to me today, so yeah, I'm sure.'

'Ah… well… as long as you have confidence in your date with Hungary, I have confidence in it as well.'

That comment made me growl in dismay.

'It's… it's not a fucking _date_, you bastard, it's an appointment! And it's a _very_ serious one!'

'Then I guess you're going to talk about the time Hungary topped me, right?' Antonio concluded.

I stared at him and thought about what to say back, but nothing popped up in my mind, so I just pointlessly frowned and scowled a bit, which should be enough for him to understand what I meant.

I must have looked kind of stressed out as well though, because he gave me a reassuring squeeze – _and_ a reassuring smile, since that was his _thing_.

'Whatever she's going to tell you, please know that I'm different _now_. I'm _not_ the selfish fool I used to be anymore and… well, I hope that one day, Hungary realizes that as well.'

Then he sighed.

'…even though even letting her top me didn't make her change her opinion of me, apparently…'

Huh?

'Wait… what? What are you trying to say?' I asked him, getting confused.

Antonio snapped out of his temporary daze and beamed a calm smile at me.

'Ah, I could try to tell you, but I'm afraid my storytelling-skills are about as good as my ways of giving directions, my love, so I'll leave it to Hungary to tell you more about it. Besides, things are seemingly going somewhat better between her and me lately, so I wouldn't want her fury raining down on me if _I_ told you about the past instead of Hungary, ahahahaha…'

I pursed my lips and gave the Spaniard a wary glare, but respected his decision to leave his past experiences with Hungary to the brunette herself to tell to me and uttered a deep, tired sigh.

'It's a good thing Hungary's the last nation I have to visit. God, I'll be glad once all of this is over…'

'You're not the only one – so am I.' Antonio confessed, letting go of one of my hands to caress the side of my face with it.

'Y-you are?' I muttered.

'Yes. Do you think I'm enjoying it, seeing you go away every week to ask other countries about my past?'

'N-no.' I looked down.

Antonio didn't stop me from looking down, but also didn't stop touching my face – carefully, softly.

'It's not that I don't understand – of _course _I understand. But… well, if I could turn back time, I'd much rather have told you everything about me and my past myself.'

'But then I'd only hear _your _side of the story.'

I glanced up at him again.

'And even though I trust you, I still want to hear the _other _sides of the story as well, if you know what I mean.'

Antonio was silent, but nodded.

'But _don__'__t_ think you're getting away with it.' I continued with a huff, narrowing my eyes, '…I still want to hear _your _side after all of this is over, you hear? Every nasty, mean, evil and horrible bit of your past, told by _you_. _Everything_. No hiding things. Understood?'

A small smile broke through on his face and he chuckled halfheartedly.

'I think I already promised you a while ago that I'd tell you everything you'd want to know about me, Lovino.'

'So you understand?'

'I understand.'

'Then we're good.'

'Great!'

After giving each other a few stupid smiles, we got quiet for a bit.

Behind us, I could hear the sounds of shutting car-doors, a pissed-off German, a moody Hungarian and a whining Italian, and I realized that Antonio had to go. And Hungary and me probably had to go as well, if we wanted to get to Budapest – _today_.

But… not just yet.

'N-now…' I quickly swallowed and quasi-harshly brushed some stupid dark curls out of Antonio's face, '…what are you going to do once you're back in Spain?'

'Hmmm…' Antonio's eyes looked up to the sky for a second, '…first of all, I think I'm going to take a bath.'

'You fucking fag.'

He grinned, but didn't respond to my grumpy comment.

'…and after that, I think I'm going straight to bed. I'm pretty tired, after all… I could use some sleep. Oh, that reminds me – should I prepare some PJ's for you?'

Good _god_.

I had to _shudder _at how incredibly _cheesy _and _stupid_ and _embarrassing _that sounded.

'Wh-what, so you're saying you're going to leave PJ's for me on the bed or something?' I muttered under my breath.

He shrugged. 'Ah, it's just that I doubt you want to wear a onesie again – at least _I_ know I'm not going to wear it anymore – so… if you want me to put some new PJ's for you on your side of the bed…'

The corniness.

Oh dear sweet mother of Jesus, the goddamn _corniness_ of it all – it _burns_.

'…w-well, that would be… nice, I guess.' I nevertheless mumbled, sneakily looking around me to check if Hungary, Germany and Feliciano were still way too busy snarling at each other to pay attention to our elderly-married-couple's conversation.

'Okay!~' Antonio smiled, '…I'll prepare the blue PJ's for you, alright? You know, the ones with the fluffy pants you love so much.'

_Gah!_

'Wh-wha… I do _not _love those fucking fluffy pants!'

'Oh, you want me to prepare some other pair of pants?'

…

…the thing is, those pants were really soft.

And easy to wear, too.

Oh! And funny, too. I sometimes pulled them up to my armpits and then I'd pretend I didn't have a torso.

God, that always cracked me up.

…

Well fuck.

'_Ah_.' Antonio nodded respectfully when he noticed my frustrated face. 'Fluffy pants it is, then.'

And I could think of nothing better to say than he should just go fuck himself, dammit.

To which he answered he'd definitely _do_ _just __that_.

…

I'm not having certain images in mind now.

I'm not having certain images in mind at all.

…

Could be lying, though.

**xXx**

Some minutes later, Hungary came.

To me and Antonio, I mean.

Ha!

No, seriously, _if_ "other"thoughts crossed your dirty mind about Hungary and coming, that's perfectly fine with me, because _yes_, I can "do" misleading subtexts, too, and that mean bitch sure as hell _deserved_ some of it, dammit.

That'll teach her. Making me think Antonio had raped her… _Tsk_!

'So! Are you ready to go, Romano?'

Hungary looked at me expectantly – and completely ignored Antonio's entire being here with me.

'I think so.' I nodded.

'Great! Well, you just stay here for a moment, then I'll fetch my car.' she said with a content smile.

'You have a _car_?' Antonio asked.

Hungary's smile stayed strong when she turned to look at him.

'Well _yes_, Spain. Of _course_ I have a car. How else did you think I went to Italy – by motorbike?'

'You have a _motorbike_?'

'Yes, dear. I have a motorbike. And a car. And a couple of busses. And the Titanic, too. It's in my garage, together with my many, _many_ other random vehicles.' Hungary rolled her eyes. '…now, could you hurry up and – never thought I'd ever say this – let go of Romano already? I'm following a tight schedule here.'

The conversation was making me nervous, so I answered in Antonio's place.

'That's okay, I'll send him home, Hungary, I promise. Now… just go fetch… whatever vehicle you've brought with you.'

'An _Alba __Regia_ microcar.'

'A _what_?'

'You heard what I said.' Hungary smirked proudly. 'It's a microcar. A Hungarian experiment from the '50s. It's a very small car, but it's big enough for at least two passengers.'

'…right.'

'And it's ecologic, too!~'

'That's… great, Hungary.'

'I know, right?~' She giggled excitedly. '…well, I'll be back in a flash!'

And with that, she took off.

Which was _good_.

I didn't know _where_ she was going to (her car must have been parked elsewhere), but I sure was glad she was away from Antonio for a bit: now that the moment she was going to tell me about her and his past together, Antonio's mere _presence_ seemed to be enough to annoy the crap out of her…

'Okay!'

I stupidly patted the Spaniard's chest and managed to point at Germany's car at the same time.

'Well! Looks like you really have to go now.'

Antonio clacked his tongue. 'Ah, I'm not too sure about that…'

He looked at the bickering Italian and German, who were sitting in the car and were now apparently fighting over a potato and a tomato, because that's what Feliciano was holding in his hands.

…

During pointless situations like these, I wondered if my life was just a big _prank_ to God.

I really did.

If it was, I bet He was rolling over the floor laughing.

Or rolling over a cloud.

…

Or whatever He was rolling over.

…

Yeah.

Just when my thoughts seemed to drift off a bit _too_far, Antonio knew to make me focus my attention on him again, because he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, his hands resting on the small of my back.

It startled me. 'Wh-what the fuck are you doing, you pervert, we're still in fucking Rome!'

'We are.' Antonio lazily said, probably not even _thinking_ about releasing me already since his grip around me was pretty darn _firm_.

'If… if you know _that_ much, then you should also know you shouldn't be holding me like this, dammi—'

'Ah, yes, I know that.' Antonio smiled and nuzzled the side of my face, not letting me finish my sentence.

I paled somewhat when I saw more disapproving looks from the people around us than I wanted to.

'S-shit, stop it, stop it already, everybody's watching, y-you—'

'Let them watch.'

He gave me a hard and impatient kiss and _purposely_ let some _torturing_ (yet not… _unpleasant_) seconds pass by, before he pulled back from my flushed face, frowning his eyebrows as I tried to catch my breath.

'I'm fed-up with "everybody", Lovi. They have got nothing to do with us anyway, so who gives a thing about them?'

'Um.' I strongly responded, wiping my sleeve over my quivering (_what_, why the fuck was it quivering) mouth.

'Besides, we're leaving Italy anyway, so…'

Antonio sighed happily and gave me a warm hug.

'…so I thought I might as well say good-bye to you the way I want to, right?~'

'Y-yeah, whatever…' I gulped and allowed him to hug me – although I stubbornly looked away from him.

'Ah, I'm going to miss you, Lovino…'

I huffed. 'Why? I won't be away for the rest of the fucking night or anything…'

'I know. But still.' Antonio pressed another kiss to my face. '… now I'll have to endure a whole evening with Germany and Feliciano draped all over each other and that's just depressing.'

'If you ask him nicely, maybe Feliciano's willing to drape himself over you as well.'

'Tempting.' He chuckled. 'Not sure I feel like getting split apart by both you and Germany, though…'

'Don't worry – I'll spare your ass.'

'Now that's thoughtful of you.'

'That's not it – it's just that that's already split apart, anyway.'

HAR.

Antonio and I snickered and continued our completely useless conversation about absolutely nothing as long as possible, until both grumpy Germany and grumpier Feliciano had enough of our bullshitting around and had to literally _drag_ Antonio to Germany's respective car.

And as the Volkswagen containing three exhausted country-personifications was driving off (at _high __speed_ – the fuck, was Feliciano the one driving?), the small, green Alba Regia of Hungary stopped right in front of me. It came so damn close, I even had to jump to the side to avoid my toes from getting fucking _splashed_, dammit.

I could hear Hungary making agitated growling and groaning sounds, before she managed to open the can – because that's what it was, her car was a _can_ – and stick her brunette head out of the window on the side of the passengers' seat.

'Whew!' She stroke some bangs of hair out of her face and shot me a excited smile, '…here I am, dear! Together with my car!'

'I don't see a car.' I muttered (but under my breath), looking down at the car almost as much as I looked down at Germany, France and Prussia combined.

'What are you waiting for? Hop in! Hungary's not too far away from Italy, but we still have to drive quite some kilometers before we'll arrive in Budapest!~' Hungary encouraged me, sliding her head back and bonking it against the ceiling of the car a few times while doing so, judging from her mumbled "ouch, my head!".

I stared in the other direction of the road for a second – the direction the grey Volkswagen had disappeared into – but then I decided to embrace, or at least _accept_ my cramped-up faith, and got into the car.

Partly.

Not _completely_, since I had to hang one of my arms outside of the window, but the most important thing was that we were ready to go now and _not_that it was getting _fucking __cold _outside.

Or so Hungary thought.

…

Well, she obviously _didn__'__t_ have an arm hanging outside, dammit…

**xXx**

Even though the can-like car was very, _very _small from inside, probably even smaller than the thing already was from the _out_side, it wasn't _that _uncomfortable to be driving around in it, and that was just _astounding_.

I had never driven with Hungary before _without _having to fear for my life and mentally typing out my testament, so finding out she actually _was _capable of being a normal driver certainly was a refreshing – and not to mention _safe_ – surprise.

Therefore, I had to compliment her.

But that wasn't the only reason why I wanted to compliment her – complimenting Hungary seemed to put her in a way better mood, and something told me it would be smart if I put Hungary in a good mood now that I had the chance to, so yeah.

'I didn't know you could drive so well, Hungary?' I _nonchalantly_ mentioned to her – ironically enough _immediately_ regretting it afterwards because I sounded like a huge slimeball to me.

But Hungary bought it and laughed, flattered.

'Thank you, Romano – why, you should really stop showering me with so much kindness, dear!~'

'No, I think I should tell you that, so there you go.'

She smiled, sneaking a peek to me.

'Ah, you probably had an awful trip to Rome, didn't you?'

'Well, _yes_.' I admitted and spontaneously felt goosebumps rising on my neck – on my fucking _neck_ – when I thought about it.

'…it was horrible. At one point, we were even having a fight.'

'Seriously? While being on the _road_?' Hungary asked.

'Yes… no… ugh, it's a long story…' I sighed, rubbing my temples.

'Then I don't want to hear it.' Hungary said determinedly. 'It's _my _turn to tell you a long story about a fight, after all.'

I stopped rubbing and looked to the side, to her face, which was still concentrating on the road ahead of us.

'You…' I breathed in deeply. '…you're already going to tell me about it?'

'_Already_?'

Hungary had to laugh, letting go of the steer to pat me on the head.

'Well, aren't you just _priceless_, you cute thing, you!~ I've been making you paranoid all this time and you _still _think I'm starting too early with my story about me and Spain?~'

'I just thought you'd like to wait until we were in Budapest, in that little restaurant of yours… what's it called…'

'_Fatál __Étterem_?'

'Probably, yes.' I nodded. 'But you don't want to wait until we're there?'

'Do _you _want to wait until we're there?' Hungary asked.

'No.' I answered in all honesty. 'I definitely don't want to wait that long. I want to know already what happened between you and Antonio.'

'That's what I thought.' Hungary smiled. '…that's why I'll be willing to tell you all about it, starting from now.'

'Go ahead.'

'I will.'

And as we passed a sign that said we were leaving Italy in about 100 kilometers, Hungary started telling her story.

Which indeed turned out to be a very sad one.

**xXx**

'Ah… where to begin…'

Hungary inhaled and exhaled slowly, never losing her focus on the road and her grip on the wheel.

'A very long time ago, in our younger days, when you and Feli weren't "born" yet, Spain and I used to be acquaintances. We weren't friends – we just knew that there were other personifications wandering around, and we knew that we were two of them.'

'So when _did_ you become friends with him?' I wanted to know, moving around in my seat to get a more comfortable position.

'When? Oh, I'll get back on that in a minute or so, Roma, but as long as we were still kids, we weren't friendly with each other – and we _certainly_ weren't friends. I just knew him a bit, that's all – and I thought he was a cutie, but I _also_ thought he was a jerk, since he was friends with Prussia. And I used to have a lot of fights with Prussia.'

'And Antonio always sided with Prussia, of course.' I assumed.

Hungary shrugged. 'No, that's not true, he… he was pretty _neutral_, actually. He just watched us snarling and fighting each other from the side for a while before hopping away, chasing rabbits or France… he didn't really _side_ with anybody. But oh, he definitely wasn't defenseless: if someone dared to tease him, he could fight back _really_ hard for such a weak and cute nation, oh yes sirree. Roderich could have learnt from him, heh…'

'Austria _wasn__'__t_ strong?'

Hungary hesitated.

'Yes and no. He wasn't that strong at _first_, but as time passed, his adorable and innocent child-form eventually evolved into a much stronger, much more powerful nation, a nation _other_nations quickly acknowledged as a country that could rule over _them_: the _other_ countries.'

'Were…' I scratched my face, '…right before Austria became so powerful… were Feliciano and I already around back _then_?'

'I think _you _were around already, yes. Because right after your hot grandfather began to feel a bit ill, there suddenly was a rumor about a young and lazy and uninteresting and _incredibly _poor and useless relative of the Roman Empire stumbling around in Italy with him. And it _wasn__'__t_ Veni.'

'Yeah. Way to make me feel good about myself.' I snorted, folding my arms.

'You don't remember Grandpa Rome, Romano?'

'Vaguely. I-I _vaguely_ remember him.' I murmured – but dug my nails into my arms as soon as I was sure she wasn't watching me, to prevent myself from getting glassy eyes and sad thoughts.

'Well, anyway, it was _then_, right before Roderich and Spain's relation with each other got more "serious" and before you and Veni started to play a bigger role in their lives, that Spain and I became friends. Pretty _good_ friends, too.'

'How did that happen all of a sudden?' I frowned.

Hungary laughed coyly.

'Ah, well, I thought he was cool! Not only was he one of the few nations that still believed I was a man – together with Prussia, but that idiot's always slow with these kind of things – but he also was building this _huge _Spanish empire on the other side of the ocean. I loved power just as much as any other country, so I really looked up to him because of that.'

I cocked my head – and almost slammed it against the window, _damn _you, cramped-up can-car.

'What were you up to at that point?'

'Not all that much.' Hungary said. 'I was very stubborn, of course, and I did my best to struggle against everybody who wanted to hurt me – all by myself – but by the time I realized – _really _realized – I was a woman, something that disappointed me greatly, I slowly but surely got softer and started to accept the help of others, even if that meant I'd lose a big part of my freedom.'

'So… correct me if I'm wrong, but with losing your freedom, you mean your marriage with Austria, right?' I carefully suggested.

She nodded. 'My political marriage with Roderich meant I had to say good-bye to my former careless life, yes. But the strangest thing was – I didn't even _mind_ it. I really _liked_ living with Roderich, you see. He had become mature and handsome now, not to say _powerful_, and _oh_, how much I like that in a man…'

'You fell in love with him because of _that_?' I made a face.

'Oh no, no! Not _just _because of that – also because he was the first person in my life who told me how pretty I looked in dresses.'

She blushed and briefly touched her face.

'You should've seen the look on his face when he told me that… it was so adorable, he was frowning and coughing and readjusting his glasses even though it really wasn't needed to readjust them!~ He must have had some feelings for me already…'

'But… but Hungary…'

I took a deep breath.

'…you… you _know _Austria fell in love with _Spain_ back then… right?'

'Ah-ah-ah…'

Hungary waged a finger at me and winked.

'…you're moving too fast, dear.'

'O-oh.' I swallowed. 'Sorry. Please continue.'

'Thank you, dear.' Hungary smiled. '…ah, well… the following I'm going to tell you about is the very short and blissful time Roderich and I lived together – _alone_, _without_ having anybody else around, so _without_ Spain or Veni or Germa— I mean, the Holy Roman Empire.'

'Okay.' I nodded.

'During that wonderful period, I discovered I really was in love with Roderich. And I think he must have liked me as well, since we did a lot of lovely and romantic things together, like taking longs walks in the Austrian parks, talking about poetry and music, exchanging bashful smiles…'

Hungary uttered a soft sigh.

'…it was pretty much _magical_, Romano… I really had the best time of my life. I had never been in love before, so this… this was fantastic! And I wanted more of it! I wanted a _lot _more of it! But we were both so inexperienced in love and sex and the like… and I still was a very proud country, so _if _something was going to happen between me and Roderich, I wanted it to be _perfect_. Absolutely _perfect_. But I was a virgin, so in order to make my first time with Roderich the best time _ever_, I needed to gain more experience…'

'And… I guess then Antonio came into the picture.' I said, not sure how to feel about this revelation.

'Yes.' Hungary admitted. '…yes, then Spain came into the picture. You see, around that time, he had become a good friend of Roderich as well, so he wasn't a stranger at Roderich's House. And there were lots of times when Roderich wasn't around because he was busy doing things, what meant Spain and me would be alone. In a house. With beds. And with _me_, having this burning and unstoppable drive in me to be the perfect wife for Roderich – in _all _aspects.'

I started to fumble with a loose thread.

'So you just… went to him and asked him if he could sleep with you? J-just like that?'

'Just like that.' Hungary said.

'And… he agreed? He agreed right away?'

She smirked. 'You _bet_ he did. Not only because I was/am a _very _attractive woman, but also because he didn't give a damn about sex anyway. He had become an arrogant bastard over the years and had _lots_ of sex because of that. For pleasure? Maybe. But _certainly_ in order to get a better position in the world. Besides, he was good at it and he _knew _he was good at it, so when I asked him if he could sleep with me, he snickered and wondered out loud why it had took me so long to fall for his hotness.'

'…he said that?'

'Yes.'

'What a stupid thing to say.'

'Well, it's Spain – what did you expect?'

I decided not to answer that and asked her to continue her story.

'…well…' Hungary paused for a split-second, '…Spain agreed with having sex with me, so that same day, we did it. I took him to my room, and we had sex.'

'And… was it—'

'Awful.'

Hungary shuddered and squeezed into her steer.

'It was _awful_. And I think that was mostly my own fault: I hadn't told Spain I was still a virgin since I didn't want him to think I was a fragile little flower, so… it was painful. And _not _enjoyable. Not at all. I think I even cried.'

I spread my eyes open wide, but kept quiet.

'And that…' Hungary laughed sourly, '…of course, that was noticed by Spain. It confused and unsettled him greatly, let me tell you that much. Nothing hurts a man's pride more than being confronted with a bedmate that's crying and shaking in pure _agony _during the act, after all… and I was his _friend_, so he never meant to hurt me like that. That sure had left a big impact on him – _and_ on our friendship.'

'So… what happened?' I asked.

Hungary didn't answer right away – she had to take a turn to the left and needed all of her attention for that.

She carried on once we were driving on a straight road again.

'Spain got mad at me. I told me I had embarrassed him and that it was my own fault that my first time had turned out in such a fiasco. He was too proud, too upset to handle all of this like a reasonable adult would, and so was _I_, and that's why and when we ended our friendship. Right then and there.'

'And then Austria had to marry Antonio.' I knew.

'Not exactly...'

The brunette chuckled.

'Just when I thought I was finally ready to have my romantic life with Roderich and leave all of the horrible things behind me, Roderich's boss suddenly confessed to me that all this time, Roderich and Spain apparently _were already __married _to each other. I don't know when it happened or the exact reason _why_ he was married off to Spain, really – I was too upset to pay attention when Roderich's boss told me all of this – but I _did _know that both Austria and Spain had been lying in my face about their relationship all this time. They never told me about it themselves. _Never_.'

'Were you angry with them?' I carefully asked her.

'With _Roderich_? No.' She shook her head. 'He was just following orders, after all. And he probably didn't want to hurt me. I just know that. But I sure was mad at his boss. I mean… Roderich already had _me!_ Why did he have to be married to another country – and why did it had to be _Spain_! I just didn't understand… and I understood even _less _when I saw Spain again, after a few years of absence at Roderich's House.'

'W-what do you mean?'

'Well, Roderich was married to Spain because he was supposed to be so rich and mighty and powerful, but when he returned from his "trip" to England, he looked…'

Hungary got silent for a bit.

'…why am I telling you this – you _know _how he looked like, Romano. You already started living at his place around this time. He looked absolutely _broken_. Not at _all _the confident nation I used to know anymore.'

'Y-yeah…' I looked at the dark road ahead of us and swallowed. '…I… I had never seen him that… _lifeless_, really…'

'Exactly.' Hungary nodded. 'It was like he was a shadow of the nation he used to be and for a certain period of time, I honestly thought he wouldn't survive all the terrible bad luck that was happening to him…'

'But he did.'

'He _did_, yes. He recovered, every single time something bad happened, and it seemed to have a good effect on his personality, surprisingly enough. Because he became nicer. And friendlier. And eventually, we started talking again, and laughing again – mostly about his misfortune – and _finally_, he said sorry to me, and I said sorry to _him_, and _that__'__s_ why I thought all would be good between us again, in the end.'

'Until…' I murmured – because I know something awfully _bad _was coming.

'Until…'

Hungary took a deep, sharp breath.

'Until I discovered Roderich had fallen in love with him. And if _that_ wasn't bad enough, I even _walked_ _in_ on them having sex when I wanted to confront them with it.'

I gulped. 'G-god, that's…'

Hungary laughed – but it sounded more like a sob.

'Well, just imagine _you _walking in on Spain and your brother having sex with each other, Romano.'

I said nothing.

'It felt like my heart was being ripped out. It felt like they had been _laughing_ at me being my back in the past few years. It felt like I had been deceived _again_. Not once, not even _twice_, but _trice_. I was doing my best to be a good wife and an even better friend – and _this _was my _reward_? My best friend and my lover – sleeping together?'

Hungary was making a lot of weird faces now – probably to keep herself from crying.

'F-female personifications had a hard time getting respect from their male counterparts in the past, Romano, so just imagine how betrayed I felt. I was just a laughingstock to them, I thought. They just did what they wanted to do and so _what _if they hurt others in the process.'

'T-they never apologized to you?' I stammered.

'Oh yes. They did. Roderich apologized for hurting me, but he also said he couldn't apologize for falling in love with Spain. That had just _happened_.'

She smirked.

'_Boy_, did I slap him in the face for that.'

'A-and Antonio?'

'Spain? Oh, Spain was terribly sorry. He said he wasn't in love with Roderich at all, that he just had sex with him because Roderich had told him it was his _duty _to have sex with him.'

She rolled her eyes and groaned.

'…and, of course, he told me all of this in his usual tactless way of talking, so you shouldn't be surprised that he got a nice smack in the face as well.'

'Did you break your friendship with him again after that?'

'No. Spain knew to avoid me breaking our "strong" friendship by making a truly _ridiculous _deal with me.'

'By letting you top him?'

'Yes. Which was impossible, naturally. I don't have a penis – well, not a _real _one. So I told him that. But Spain said that he'd gladly tell all the other nations and personifications in the world that I topped him in bed if that meant he could keep me as a friend.'

I frowned. 'But why did you _agree_ with that? Do you _really _think the other nations _bought_ that story?'

'You haven't paid attention, dear!~' Hungary said, a friendlier smile breaking through on her face, '…being the dominating partner during sex means being the _strongest_ to us nations – at least, it meant that back in the old days, when there were still horrible wars and such going on in Europe. And I really, _really_ wanted to be the strongest, _especially_ since I was a female nation, so I agreed with his deal. And _yes_, the other countries _did _buy the story, because 1: they're all idiots, and 2: they had all seen Spain's empire fall down – and they thought that I had played a big part in it, since it all happened around the time he was trying to recover his friendship with me again.'

'So…'

'So they started to respect me a lot more – and Spain a lot _less_. Roderich and Spain eventually divorced, and so did Roderich and I. Not because I didn't love him anymore – being the stupid, silly woman that I am, I still was very much in love with him – but because I wanted to pay more attention to _myself_. And my nation, too. It was time for me to get independent now that the rest respected me, and so, I became independent. The best choice I ever made in my life. And I still got a relation with Roderich in the end, when I knew for sure his feelings for me were _real _this time, so I'm pleased the outcome of all of this.'

'And your friendship with Antonio… did it never…?'

I gave her a questioning look.

Hungary's smile became bigger.

'Ah, well, I'd be lying if I'd tell you we are just as good friends as we used to be, Romano. I still haven't entirely forgiven him for ignoring my feelings for Roderich like that. It hurt me too much and I can't just… _laugh_ it off, like nothing happened. And yet… it seems to get a bit better every year, my relation with Spain. Bit by bit. And that's probably because of _you_, dear, since you seem to make him a better person.'

I huffed, blushed and shrugged.

'W-whatever makes you think _that_!'

'Oh, mostly very small, uninteresting things, like the way he isn't awkward but _happy_to be able to hang around with me these days, and the way we are finally able to have normal, friendly conversations with each other… but there's also the simple fact that he's now actually capable of seeing the difference between lovers and friends because of you. And…'

Her voice became softer.

'…and I can't thank you enough for that, Romano.'

I stared at her.

'W-what?'

'Thank you, Romano. Thank you for… for making Spain the person I _knew_ he had to be, deep down that arrogant body of his.'

I saw the thankful expression on Hungary's face and for a moment, I wanted to tell her that there really wasn't a lot that I had done to make him the person he was these days, that the only thing that I _had _done for Antonio was probably _accepting_ him the way he is and nothing else, and…

…

…well, and as soon as I myself realized that that really was the sole thing I had done for Antonio, I suddenly understood what the Hungarian woman was talking about.

So I ended up saying nothing and biting on the inside of my cheek, since my lower lip was too sore from earlier biting.

And while both Hungary and me were quiet, I could vaguely see in the darkness outside that we were approaching a big, waiting city, full of lights and a huge river that was streaming right through it.

'There it is: Budapest, Romano!'

Hungary pointed a finger to the city ahead of us.

…

Oh.

Okay.

**xXx**

…

Budapest. Let me tell you something about… Budapest.

It was…

…

…

I actually have no clue whatsoever.

…

I had enough of this.

I was too tired, too stuffed with new information to care – or _think_.

I…

I just wanted to go home.

**xXx**

'Go home?'

Hungary gave me a puzzled look when I told her exactly what I was feeling and thinking and she slowed down her speed – immediately bothering the few other drivers as she did so, but she conveniently ignored them.

'You mean you don't want to go to that restaurant anymore, Roma?'

'I'm sorry, but yes.' I sighed, running a hand through my hair. '…no offence to you or Budapest, Hungary, but I'm drained. No matter how much I've enjoyed this day, it still has been a _very _long day, especially if you count this trip to Hungary in.'

'Aha…' she said, thoughtfully staring at "her" city's skyline.

'It… it was a bit too much for just one day, you see…' I muttered, '…and really, if you're taking me to your restaurant in _this_ state, I think I'll probably fall asleep on the _goulash _or whatever you're planning to serve me.'

Hungary laughed. 'Now, that would be a waste of _goulash_!~ We don't want that, do we?'

'No. So… is it okay to go to Antonio's House, Hungary?' I asked her.

My own politeness didn't surprise me. I know I was acting rather meekly this evening, but I just wanted to go to bed already and try to get a grip on everything that Hungary had said tonight, because something told me that she had given a lot of hints about Antonio and his way of thinking and acting…

…not to mention her _own _way of thinking and acting.

Hungary suddenly stretched herself out (just one arm though) and started turning her car – good thing that there _really_ weren't a lot of drivers on the road now.

The drivers that _did _ride around were honking their claxons madly, but like hell Hungary cared – if she wanted to turn, she _would_ turn, so _tough_.

'Ah – it's too bad, Romano,' she said, waving innocently at an angry man shaking his fist at her on the other side of the road, '…I won't be seeing my capital city for at least a week after this, after all…'

I blinked my dull eyes. 'Oh. Sorry – I forgot about that.'

'Oh, well, it's alright!~' Hungary said cheerfully, beaming a radiant smile at me I hadn't seen up to this point during this day.

'You sure?' I asked.

'Definitely! This way, I can talk a bit more with you – and I really enjoy talking with you for some reason. You're a very good listener!'

That's because you're talking about Antonio, I wanted to say, but knew I shouldn't say that out loud.

'Where…' I paused because I had to yawn, '…where do you want to talk about now, then? It'll be a while before we'll be in Spain, so… better make it a good subject.'

Hungary nodded.

'Oh, I _have_ a good subject I want to tell you about. It's about how Spain very, _very _indirectly made me learn to appreciate the beauty that is…'

I became a bit more interested and sat up.

'…his country? Language? Food?'

'_Homosexuality_.'

…

…

I should have seen this coming.

I really should have seen this coming.

But I didn't.

Because I'm a stupid moron.

Meanwhile, Hungary uttered a blissful sigh.

'…ah, it all began after I had asked myself: "wow, those bastards that brutally broke my heart multiple times looked so handsome together – could it be that there is _more _like that in this sinful world?", and so…'

She was really going to do it.

She really was going to tell me how she discovered the fabulousness of homosexuality.

…

Oh GOD.

I groaned softly and slugged down in my chair.

This was going to be a loooooong way back…


	56. Ultimatum

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: As I already feared, I made quite some historical mistakes with Hungary's explanation from last week. Naturally, a **lot** more happened between the old Hungary, Austria and Spain – I just don't/didn't know all of it.  
__A __very __observant __reviewer, __**MorriganFearn**__, __told __me __what __**really **__happened __between __the __countries __in __Europe __in __the __past, __and __you __should __read __her __review __if __you __want __to __know __more __about __it. __You won't regret it!_^^

_A/n2: Apparently, there has been a research about what European country has the most attractive women, or so I've heard on the news. Want to know the top 5? Of course you do! Here it is…  
__**5: **__**The **__**Netherlands **__(yeah, __how __about __that, __I__'__m __actually __considered __fairly __attractive. __YES! _XD_)  
__**4: ****Spain **(had expected Spain to be placed a bit higher, but oh well…)  
__**3: **__**Poland **__(good __for __you, __Feliks! _:D_)  
__**2: ****Sweden** (not surprised about this at all)  
__**1: ****Italy** (had expected nothing else, really…~)  
__Italy apparently also has the most attractive men, closely followed by Spain and his hunky army of good-looking Spaniards.  
__Now, __aren__'__t __you __all __glad __I __shared __this __with __you? __Such __valuable __information! __Oh!~ _XDD

_A/n3: This chapter's… a bit steamy. Hah… looks like Toni and Lovi are not the only ones who have a lot of difficulties with keeping themselves to the No Sex Pact… Hopefully, I'm not going too far...^^;;; _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVI:

_**Ultimatum  
**__**(Custom Song)**_

This evening, I learned lots of things.

Yup.

For example: I learned that listening to Hungary telling about how she discovered and learned to actively enjoy sex between two – or more – men ("enjoy" in _every_ sense of the word) was actually _just_ like listening to Feliciano proudly telling me about what kind of _positions _he and Germany usually _assumed_ whenever they were going at it, only a bit less _visual._

…

Although that last bit could be a lie.

…

I also learned that _Antonio _was the one that made Hungary a creepy gay-lover (in combination with the wonderful help of his prissy assistant Austria).

And I was _so_ going to kick that Spaniard's ass because of that.

…

Someday.

Not today – I was way too tired to kick Spanish butts now, I needed to _get __some __fucking __sleep _now. Dammit.

…

Oh wait, _and_ I learned that Antonio had been a huge jerk to Hungary in their past, of course.

Almost forgot that one.

…

_What_?

Yeah yeah, shame on me, _boohoo_, but can you really _blame_ me for almost forgetting about Hungary's story about her past with Antonio when she all of a sudden starts telling this _horror-story _about how she got into homo-porn?

While showing me her secret stash of her oldest gay magazines she apparently liked to keep in her laughable small car (really, what the fuck is up with _that_)?

While _driving_?

_Can _you?

No! _No _you can't!

Now _shush_, dammit!

…

Ugh…

But anyway, about what Hungary had told me about her "great" discovery during our ride from Budapest to Madrid so far…

Well.

According to Hungary's side of the story, she walked in on Antonio and Austria having awful sex with each other. I guess it was that one time when Antonio actually started reading _fucking_ _comics_ during the act, because Hungary told me that she noticed he was "flipping through something" – right before her mind went blank and she had her mental breakdown.

After that awkward and painful event, Hungary didn't change into a sick pervert right away – no, she had to process Antonio and Austria's betrayal first, and that was a very hard thing for her to do.

She looked genuinely _pained_ when she told me this part, so I believed her. Let's face it – it must have been _horrible_ for her, to receive _this _kind of respect from your supposedly best friend and lover, no doubt about it.

But eventually, she got over it, as she explained to me, because "strange, _unearthly_ powers" had taken control of her body, and those powers (she called them her Voices of Love – _what_ _the_ _fuck_) _forced _her to "look further" than the terrible thing Antonio and Austria had done to her.

So she did just _that_, and everything looked a bit better again.

…

And there, _right_ there, she completely lost me in her logic.

"Luckily", she was probably more than happy to tell me all about it.

**XxX**

After getting such a vague reason for suddenly liking homo-sex from the Hungarian brunette, I stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

'…what the hell? Why did everything suddenly looked a bit better when you "_looked __further_"? And what do you mean with "_looking __further_" anyway! How _can _you _"__look __further_" when your friends just pulled off a stunt like that! I'd be way too fucking depressed to "_look __further_"!'

Hungary licked her lips in excitement – never a good sign – and straightened her back.

'Well!~ Of _course _what Spain and Roderich had done to me took me quite some time to get over – I just told you that. But after I had done that, one single thought that had always been wandering around in my inner mind, all of a sudden because _crystal __clear _to me, all thanks to the strange, unearthly Voices of Love…'

'Oh god, _not_ those strange, unearthly Voices of Love again, plea—'

'_**Strange**_, _**unearthly**_ _**Voices**_ _**of **__**Love **_came to me, as I was saying,' Hungary _deliberately_ repeated, ignoring the fact I was now gritting my teeth in silent protest, '…and the Voices of Love gave this lonely thought of mine a bit more… _color_… and then I suddenly knew…'

She took a deep and dramatic breath, resting one on her hands on her chest (and instantly relighting my burning fear for her insane way of driving because _who __the __fuck __drives __120 __km/h __on __a __freeway __with __only __**one **__hand __on __the __wheel __dammit_).

'…then I suddenly knew, Roma… that two handsome men being… _intimate _with each other… are… well… not _bad_… to look at. Not bad at _**all**_, actually…'

'So you just as suddenly _weren__'__t_ furious at Antonio and Austria anymore?' I frowned – closing my fists around my seat so damn tightly I could literally _feel _my blood hastily retreating from the veins in my hands.

Hungary gave me a pissed-off glance.

'Don't be so _stupid_, Romano! Of course I was still mad at them! It isn't that I abruptly liked the mental image of Spain and Roderich getting it on together – I abruptly liked the mental image of _men __in __general _getting it on together! See the difference, Romano? See it?'

'Um… yes…' I hesitated, internally hoping _she _still saw the _road_.

'_Good_!'

Hungary huffed and brushed a long brown lock of hair out of her face.

'Glad you understand! Now stop making stupid remarks about your brainless fiancé and my stiff upperlip-boyfriend and let me tell you about the beautiful world I discovered thanks to my Voices of Love! And internet!'

'…there was _internet _back then?'

'_No_, Romano, there _wasn__'__t_ internet back then.'

She sighed deeply and shook her head.

'…how many years do you think it took before I finally got over Spain's and Austria's betrayal, for God's sake…'

…

Oh.

…

_Oh_.

…

R-right.

Maybe I should try to _think _first before just… making up my own conclusions about something that I knew _shit_ about.

**xXx**

For the rest of the hours Hungary and I spent in the can-like car, she told me all that still remained to be told about her fucking Voices of Love and amazing discoveries about the homosexual world, which really weren't that impressive at all, really.

If I had to translate all of her _unearthly_, _magical_ and _mystical_ crap-story into _normal _words, words we _all_could understand, it all came down to this…

After getting over Antonio and Austria, she got curious about same-sex-sex, wanted to know if same-sex-sex could actually be _nice_, too (since she hadn't forgotten the bored look on Antonio's face back then) and eventually, she decided to search for more information about it in her country, and later on the internet.

In the end, she finally became _this_ Hungary, this sweet, motherly, yet _extremely_ weird and creepy Hungary we all knew – and secretly _feared_.

That was a very, very special day.

And all the nations involved in a same-sex relationship howled.

…

End of story.

There.

Now.

I was sick and tired of this damn trip. I wanted to go to bed already.

Were we there yet?

**XxX**

Well, almost. But not _yet_.

Nooope. It took me yet _another_ hour of surviving yet _another _scary Hungary-story (this time about that one time she discovered _shota__ – __**horrifying**_) before I could finally, _finally _see the light… and with light, I mean the highest tower of Antonio's ancient House appearing in the skyline ahead of me and Hungary and her car made of tin (shut up, I just _knew_ it was made of tin).

A few minutes later, the brunette mercilessly flattened Antonio's already _very_ flattened gate just a little bit more ("oh _my_, but I really didn't see it," she explained to me with a slightly spiteful smile when I pointed to the poor squashed-into-the-ground-gate) and parked the car somewhere near the House, close by Germany's Volkswagen.

'Looks like I made it…' I mumbled when I painfully _squirmed_ myself out of the car and almost tore off my sleeve, and stretched my aching back.

Ow, ow…

'Hmm…' Hungary stepped out of the car as well, not looking devastated at all (she actually even looked _refreshed_, that crazy woman)_, _and glanced at her watch. Then she glanced at the dark House in front of us.

'It's exactly twelve o'clock right now… and by the looks of it, it seems that everybody inside is already asleep…'

'Those lucky bastards.' I replied sorely and put my hands in my pockets, walking straight to the front door. The sooner I was lying in bed, the _better_.

Hungary quickly pitter-pattered after me.

'You have a key, Romano?'

I should have made an uninterested, sarcastic comment like "well _duh_ – I'm not planning to fucking _bite _my way in", but instead, I flinched a bit, trying to hide my uneasiness as I indeed took a key out of one of my pockets and opened the door.

'O-of course I have a fucking key. That Spanish bastard gave me one _ages_ ago, dammit, w-when it became clear we would… hang out more often…'

Hungary's face lit up, but she shook her head dismissively.

'Ah, that _rascal_ Spain. I _knew_ he had taken your sweet, _sweet_ innocence a _very very VERY _long time ago alread—'

'Not _that _many ages, you sick _freak_!' I hissed, glaring at her as she went into the House before me, giggling.

'My, it's so much _fun_ to yank your chain, Romano!~ You always react just the way I _want _you to react! And your _face _always gets this _adorable _red hue when you get flustered – oh god, I can only imagine how _sweet_ you look when Spain's making passionate love to you!~ You and that cute _tush_ of yours probably redden in every way _possible_!~'

OH MY _GOD_!

'_Seriously_, do you know no fucking _shame_, woman?' I started in a shrill, breaking voice, closing and locking the door behind me with shaking hands, '…a-all of that is none of your business! None! Not my face, not the color of my face, not my sexlife and _certainly _not my tush – _ass, _I mean! So! Leave my tush – _ass, _goddammit – out of it! _Please_!'

'So where do I get to sleep tonight – and the rest of the week?' Hungary asked, probably not having heard anything of my fiery protest since that's just _Hungary_ for you.

I didn't nag about it though – had no energy left for it – and just sighed, beckoning her to follow me to the stairs.

'Antonio has a lot of spare bedrooms, so don't worry about it – you probably can choose between at least six spare rooms.'

'Which room is the closest to Antonio and yours?~'

'I'm sorry – did I say six? I meant two. Yep, two spare rooms, free for you to pick.'

I didn't see Hungary's face when we walked up the stairs, but I bet it looked disappointed.

'Boo, Roma. You party-pooper.'

'See if I care.'

'You will if my camera and I vengefully sneak into your room tonight.'

Hungary winked at me.

…

…

O-our room had a lock, r-right?

**xXx**

Fifteen minutes later, after Hungary was safely _stashed_ away as far as possible from my and Antonio's room and I had made absolutely sure she and her camera weren't following me as I walked/_dashed_ into our bedroom, I could finally utter a deep sigh of relief.

'That woman's going to kill me one day. Ohh, I just _know_ she is…' I muttered softly – and nervously locked the door, because _you __just __never __fucking __know_.

Then I turned around and half-expected to be greeted with the sight of a snoring, drooling, sheet-stealing, tent-wearing Spaniard that was spread all over the huge bed, but instead, I noticed said Spaniard was still awake, sitting up in bed with burning red cheeks and an uneasy expression on his face.

'H-hi, Lovi! You're sure are back home early, a-ahahaha…'

I stared at his face, that had "oh-you-bet-I-was-doing-something-embarrassing-just-before-you-walked-in" written all over it, and narrowed my eyes, taking my PJ's off the bed without losing sight of him.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing! Nothing! Nothing at all!' Antonio shrieked, quickly pulling his hands from under the sheets – _ohhhh_, I see.

'I didn't know that sneakily jerking yourself off has the same meaning as doing nothing at all.' I snorted, slipping out of my shirt.

'Um.' Antonio sheepishly looked at his stained – yes, already _stained_ – hands.

'Ugh, and you _know_ I hate it when you're doing that underneath the covers! Don't you think we're _already_ washing the fucking sheets way more often than normal people do? But no, _noooo_, mister Fernandez Carriedo still, _whoop_, masturbates away, like washing big-ass sheets isn't a fucking hellish thing to do at all! Shit, now _this _is why I don't want black bed-linen!'

Then I had to stop my ranting, because I needed to put on the shirt of my PJ's, and I couldn't snarl that easily with a mouth full of PJ-fabric. Everybody knows that.

When my head popped out of the shirt, I saw Antonio stared at me, blinking.

Slowly, a smile appeared on his face.

'You really sound like a snippy housewife when you talk like that, you know?~'

'Call me a housewife again and I'll fucking dislocate your dick.'

I frowned and pointed to the bathroom.

'…speaking of dicks – you can finish your nice little alone-time _there_, if you don't mind. I'm _tired_. I want to _sleep_.'

Antonio gave me a stupid grin.

'A-ah, that's… not necessary, Lovi… I came just before… um… _you _came.'

I made a face.

'Oh, that's just _lovely_, Antonio.'

'But I couldn't help it!' Antonio whined, his green eyes silently admiring the sight as I hastily put on my ridiculous yet wonderful fluffy PJ-pants, '…_you _try to sleep when those two are _bonking _like that!'

'Bonking?' I looked up.

Antonio nodded his head in the direction of the wall, giving me an insistent look.

'_Ohh_. _That_ kind of bonking.' I said – and shuddered, getting into the bed.

He swallowed heavily. 'It's _terrible_, Lovino. It started in the car with some quasi-innocent flirting and it continued with a lot of sloppy tongue-twisting and wall-humping when we arrived at home, and eventually, it ended _just _before you and Hungary returned.'

'That bad, huh?'

'Germany has showed Feli every single corner of the room, I believe. And those corners _sure_ must have been _wonderful_, judging from Feli's… um… feedback.'

'Oh _god_.' I felt shivers going up my spine. 'Why, just _why_ did they had to pick the bedroom next to ours?'

'Well, it's the closest bedroom to the stairs there is, so… yeah…' Antonio scratched his neck.

'So…' I subtly shuffled a bit further away from Antonio's side of the bed, '…so all this time, you've been… holding back?'

'I have been _trying _to hold back.' Antonio corrected me.

'But you failed.'

'Failed three times.'

My jaw dropped. 'Three ti— oh my _god_, Antonio!'

Antonio pouted and folded his arms like a mad little kid.

'W-what! It's only _normal _I jerked off three times in a row! I haven't had sex with you in at least a week – a whole _week!_ – and I hadn't seen other opportunities to… stroke myself! And _god_, after seeing you in such a beautiful dress… and in such a wonderful suit… and Feli sure sounds a _lot _like you when he reaches his climax, you know? So _really_, Lovi, I _had _to do this! I _needed_ to do this!'

'You're a fucking pervert!' I snapped.

'No – I'm just a normal, healthy… okay, maybe not at all that healthy… man, and it amazes me I haven't done it more often already. In fact, I think I need to do it again.'

'_What_?'

'Yes, I _really_ think I need to… release some more.'

Antonio gulped and looked away from me.

'…especially now that I've seen your naked legs again for the first time in days…'

I flushed. 'Y-you saw my naked legs this fucking _morning_! Just a couple of _hours _ago!'

'Days, hours… potato, _potato_…'

Antonio shrugged, hopped out of the bed – good thing the nightgown was long enough to cover everything up – and disappeared into the bathroom with a long and heavy sigh.

I scowled at the closed door and was about to wonder why _some _men just had to be such huge sex-driven perverts, when the room next to this one suddenly came alive.

No, not _literally_, you dipshit – there were just noises coming from it all of a sudden.

I sat up a bit more and tried to listen. Not because I was a nasty pervert like Antonio, but because I wanted to know if the sounds those two freaks made _really _were as loud as Antonio had claimed them to be.

…

Huh.

Well, I could _hear_ them talking, but I didn't know what they talked about. That annoying, high voice definitely was Feliciano's and that ugly, deep voice was from his potato-loving boyfriend – and I could _not _believe that burly macho-creep had the fucking guts to have sex with my stupid brother on _my _territory. Seriously, if I hadn't been too grossed out to do something about it, I'd _bon-voyage _his white ass out of Antonio's House faster than he could say "no more money for Greece".

…

But since I _was _too grossed out to do something about it, the only thing I could do was… endure it, I guess.

Oh crap, now Feliciano suddenly started moaning.

…

And now that German bastard did it, too.

…

Oh sure, just _smack _him into the wall, why not, it's not like your brother-in-law and Antonio are, oh, I don't know, in the room _right_ _next_ to yours or something – oh no, wait, _yes __they_ _are_!

…

W-was that growling? Coming from _Feliciano__'__s_ mouth? Did Feliciano _growl_?

…

A-and there goes the lamp.

…

S-skin slapping against skin sure sounded… n-nasty…

…

E-especially… when they s-sped up…

…

Oh _god_, th-they were _loud_…

…

…

O-oh _shit_…

I think I wasn't that tired anymore.

**XxX**

'Lovi! I can't do it in the bathroom – it's way too cold in there! You and your silly habit of leaving the windows open at night…'

Grumbling, Antonio staggered out of the bathroom and drowsily rubbed his eyes – and then that same pair of eyes noticed me, sitting in bed as straight as an arrow, anxiously biting my nails like my fucking life depended on it.

'Sweetie?' Antonio tilted his head a bit and was about to say something, when—

'_Veee__… __oh __yes, __yes, __YES, __YES, __**YES, **__**YES!~**_'

And with each and every "yes", a hard, nasty _thud _was heard, growing in... _ugh_... intencity... w-with each... oh _god_...

'Oh,' Antonio bluntly said, '…sounds like they're going at it again, aren't they?'

'Y-you _think?_' I stammered, squeezing my knees together as good as I could.

He saw and grinned triumphantly, _immediately_ getting it the point, since he always got the point when it was about something sexual – remember? Explained all about it a few weeks ago. It's just the way that crazy Spaniard's brain _works_, I suppose.

'Ohhh?~ What's that? Are you getting _aroused_, Lovi?~'

'No!' I replied way too quickly. 'I'm not like _you_!'

'That last bit is true, yes, but… well, you're obviously having the same problem as me, right?' Antonio carried on, getting on the bed – _my _side of the bed – and slowly crawling towards me with this… this menacing smile of his.

'You also didn't have sex in a week… and I _know _you're just as sexually frustrated as me, judging from your eager fondling of my butt in that shop in Rome earlier this day, so… stop lying to me, Lovi…~'

'S-shut up.' I muttered, backing off until my back hit the wood of the head of the bed.

'Oh, but you _want _me, Lovino…'

Antonio stopped right in front of me and placed his hands on the sheets, next to my hips, effectively trapping me underneath the covers of the bed.

'You want me… and I want you… so…'

He licked his lips.

Oh _fuck_. I gulped and tried to struggle myself away – which was really stupid to see actually – but he held the sheets down so damn tightly I could barely move.

'N-no, the Pact, dammit, the Pact…' I heard myself stutter weakly, secretly _shamefully _excited about the fact he was sexing me up like this. I mean, I even let myself slide down on my back _right __away_ when he was coming this close to me – how needy do you want it?

Antonio must have seen the inner fight in my mind – hope he didn't see that the perv-side was winning – because the smoldering look he gave to me suddenly became a bit less-smoldering, as he carefully lowered himself on top of me.

'Don't worry, Lovi, I'm not suggesting that we should break our stupid No Sex Pact – oh no, not after coming _this _far. I… just want to make you an _offer_.'

'A-an offer?' I repeated, forcing my legs to stay where they were even though they really, _really_ wanted to wrap themselves around that hot bastard pressing down on me (good thing the sheets firmly wrapped around me made it easier to control myself).

'Yes – an offer.'

Antonio leaned his chin on his arms and smiled cheekily at me.

'Now tell me… is it true that masturbation is allowed, according to our No Sex Pact?'

I blushed.

'I-I sure hope so, or else I've violated the rules a _lot _of times already…'

'Interesting… and you call _me _the pervert?~'

'H-hey, it's not like I do it as much as _you_, dammit!'

'I heavily doubt that.'

'Shut up!'

Antonio chuckled, but then continued.

'…ah, anyway… let's say that we're free to masturbate. Okay?'

'…okay, but what are you trying to sa—'

He leaned more towards me and cut me off with a quick, gentle kiss.

Which… wasn't that bad.

Then he pulled back.

'…well, since we're allowed to masturbate whenever we feel like it, I think we should do it.' he reasoned, tracing a finger over my moist lower lip.

'What, _now_? Here?' I said, spreading my eyes.

'Yes.'

'T-together?'

'Yes.'

'Y-you mean… like rubbing ourselves against the other and such?'

'Dry-humping, yes – very _good_, Lovi!'

'Isn't that like… cheating on the Pact?'

'No, it's _masturbating_. The Pact's safe. What we're (hopefully) going to do is like touching yourself without taking off your clothes or using your hands. And of course you get really embarrassed about it afterwards.'

'…that's masturbation alright.' I rolled my eyes.

Antonio nodded. 'So let's do that.'

'N-no, it's…' I took a deep breath, '…it's… too much like sex, dammit… I-I can't fool myself into thinking I'm masturbating when you're right here, on top of me, holding and kissing me and saying sweet things to me… it's… it's just too much like the real thing…'

'Then I'll just turn out the lights, so that we can't see each other. And we won't talk. And we won't kiss or hold each other, either. Would that work?'

'…probably, but… that's not very romantic.' I murmured.

'Well _good_ – that way, it's not like sex _whatsoever_!~' Antonio explained.

Now it was my turn to blink my eyes.

'That actually makes sense.'

'Right?~ I tend to do that sometimes. So… are you up for it?'

'Yes. One thing, though…'

Antonio, who was about to _sprint _off the bed to turn out the lights, paused in his movements.

'Yes, Lovi?'

I fumbled with the sheet covering me.

'W-we… we can talk… and kiss and hold each other… _afterwards_, right?'

Antonio looked at my red face for a moment and let out a soft groan.

'I-I don't see why not, but _please_… you're being so _cute_right now… stop giving me even _more _reasons to just screw the Pact and make love to you anyway, sweetie…'

He then tumbled off me and hurried himself to the light switch.

Huh.

…

_Cute_, right?

…

'Hey, Antonio?' I asked, right before his finger reached the switch – right before this weird masturbation-play of ours started.

'Yes?' Antonio gave me a questioning, impatient look.

'Masturbation or not…'

I frowned right back at him and took a deep breath.

'…_I__'__m_ on top.'

He stared some more at me, but nodded, smiling.

'Naturally, sweetie.'

Then he turned off the lights.

**xXx**

It was a very cloudy night this night, with no full moon – or something like a moon at _all_ – or glittering stars that could shine their lights down on me or Antonio, so it was kind of _thrilling_ when the room got completely dark all of a sudden. God, my heart even began to pound a bit faster than usual.

I held my breath when a slight dip in the mattress told me that Antonio had hopped back onto bed again and silently moved a bit to the side when he made his way to me, the sound of shuffling sheets getting closer and closer, until I heard him fall down on his back right next to me.

O-okay.

My turn now, I-I guess.

Clumsily, I patted the mattress to feel where the hell he was lying exactly and had to swallow a big and sticky lump down my throat when I touched one of his hands.

Oh – there he was.

R-right.

I breathed in and out softly and then quickly straddled his hips, biting back a soft moan when my already very much awakened erection was _immediately _met with his own persistent… s-stiffness.

…

S-shit, I could just feel that fucking asshole wasn't wearing a boxer or anything underneath his stupid nightgown – that… that wet _thing _of his was way too… _present, _dammit, while mine was covered by at least two layers of fabric…

…

…o-oh well…

After hesitating a little while about what to do _now _(and where the fuck I had to keep my hands), I decided to… well… at least… r-rock my hips against his.

Slowly, experimentally. Just to hear what his reaction would be.

It wasn't before too long Antonio responded with a low grunt and started rolling his lower body in time with mine – just as slowly, just as experimentally. He really _wanted_ me to have full control over all of this, apparently…

…

Well, who am I to disappoint him…

While my confidence grew more and more with every move I made, with every roll of the hip and every rubbing, teasing, _way __too __short _contact between our demanding dicks, Antonio got louder.

_Way _louder.

I heard him panting, gasping and breathing out _encouragingly_ underneath me – and I also heard him having the biggest difficulties with not-saying my name, sometimes coming as far as 'Lo—' before he'd quickly silence himself.

B-but it's not like I had no problems with that – hell, when I wasn't focusing myself on Antonio's erotic way of in- and exhaling _so __damn __slowly_, I could hear my _own _wheezing way of breathing, my _own _moaning, my _own _whining and mewling.

Because it's not like Antonio's sloppy movements didn't have any effect on me… oh _god, _they had… they sure had… and I _hated_ it that I couldn't cling myself to him, that I couldn't grab his hips and grind my crotch even _more _against his throbbing erection, that I couldn't just let myself fall down on him and kiss him, and hold him, kiss and hold him so _much_, kiss and hold him so many times that we'd lose track of time and of whatever we were busy with because _god, _I longed for some nice, gentle touches, for some more contact…

…but I knew that I could only get what I wanted if we finished this, so that's what I intended to do: finish this. As quick as possible.

So I pinned my hands down to each side of Antonio's clothed, but sweaty torso, lowered myself so that my weeping cock could make an even better, _way _better contact with his, especially now that he spread his legs some more for me when he found out what I was aiming for, and I abruptly sped up my pace, rubbing against him as forcefully and sensually as I was able to.

Although Antonio must have seen it coming, his breath still hitched in his throat and he let out a surprised gasp, tilting his hips up.

'O-oh god, oh… oh… oh yes, _yes_, don't stop now, don't_…_'

As I still mindlessly rutted against him, I felt he was losing his self-control and my heart almost burst when his arms were suddenly sneakily winding themselves around my shoulders, but I wouldn't allow it – and hastily shrugged them off me, using my hands to grab his wrists and push them back down on the mattress.

'N-no, not yet, not yet…' I managed to breath when he groaned in protest and I increased my speed just a _little _bit more, because I was _close, _and I could hear Antonio was close, too, so just some more, just a little bit more, almost, _almost_—

'_Ah_!'

When I felt tiny bits of electricity shooting through me, Antonio probably felt the same sparks going up and down his spine that _exact_ same time, as he came with a loud cry, partly covering my _own _cry, partly staining the wet, lower part of my pajama-shirt with his warm semen.

And after that, I…

…well, I pretty much _collapsed_, actually. I was _spent__ –_ and barely able to notice the thick, sticky liquid that now slowly dripped down my pants and legs.

I still noticed a _bit_, though.

Oh – _great_.

'F-fuck…' I stammered with the greatest difficulty against Antonio's chest and fluttering heartbeat, '…t-this was my favorite pair of pajama-pants, d-dammit… n-now they're… f-fucking ruined…'

Antonio laughed breathlessly – and then quickly wrapped his freed arms around me, flipping the both of us over in the mere blink of an eye and giving me a long, openmouthed, passionate kiss, his hands rubbing over my back as he pressed me into the mattress.

'…you silly sourpuss…' he managed to mutter in between kisses, '…you silly, _amazingly hot_ sourpuss of mine…'

I wasn't even _startled_ by the sudden hold-and-flip-over-action – hell, I was _glad_ to finally feel his arms around me and I excitedly took his face in my slightly trembling hands, loosely winding one of my legs around his waist while I replied to his kisses as enthusiastically as my exhilarating gasping for breath allowed me to.

'…love… love you, Lovi…' Antonio wearily whispered against my lips.

And since he immediately gave me another kiss after saying that, I could only nod a bit in response.

But that's alright. He knew me. He'd get the point…

**XxX**

'Well, that's it, then. We fucked things up. We might as well go have real sex now.'

That's the first thing I said after recovering a bit from the pseudo-sex I just had.

_Ugh_.

I stared at the ceiling and frowned deeply, my arms resting on Antonio's (still very clothed and very sweaty) back.

Antonio stirred and lifted his head up from my chest, yawning softly.

'Hmm…? What do you mean, "might as well have real sex now"? We didn't have anything like sex at all, sweetie…'

'Yeah, well, your _cum _sticking on my shirt is saying something else, dammit.'

'Ah, details, details…' Antonio chuckled and raised himself some more, until I could almost see his green eyes blinking just above me. '…okay, let me try to ease your mind a bit, Lovino. In order to have sex like we usually have, there's supposed to be some penetration. At least a bit. Right?'

I made a disgusted face at the _sound __alone _of the already disgusting word "penetration". _Ghuuh_.

'Well, yeah, but—'

'Did we _do _any penetration?'

'No, but—'

'Also, usually, we either use our hands or our mouth to get the other one off. Did we do _that_?'

'No, b—'

'Or did we kiss or touch each other, or hold each other, or call each other names while… _exploring_ the boundaries of the No Sex Pact?'

I shivered. 'God, you're so _gros_—'

'_Did _we, Lovi?'

'…'

'Well?~'

I glared up at him, since he was probably hanging somewhere above me, but then I focused my attention on fumbling again, since fumbling was just so much fun.

'…t-there definitely was _some _touching, dammit… o-our crotches and stuff…' I huffed.

'Our crotches _never _made _physical_ contact, Lovi,' Antonio wisely said – which was _just_ as ridiculous as it sounded, '…so why don't you just admit already that the only thing that happened was an intense masturbation-session, because _that__'__s _what it was, my love. Nothing more, nothing less.'

'…b-but I…' I hesitated, coloring a bit, '…I-I was definitely imagining I was having sex with you this whole time…'

Antonio laughed and lowered himself on my chest again.

'Well… that's the whole _point_ of masturbation, right?~'

…

Oh.

That's true.

…

Feeling a bit more reassured and a bit less like a big fat cheater, I sighed, closing my eyes and patting Antonio's hair.

'Okay, you've convinced me – it was just masturbation. The Pact is still intact. Yay.'

He let out a victorious little chuckle and if I had been able to look at him, I think I'd have seen him doing a stupid fist-pump in the air.

'Yay indeed!~' he cheered.

'Moron.' I said and smiled weakly.

'…ah, can I get my reward now, Lovi?~'

I wrinkled my forehead. 'You want a reward?'

'I want a reward, yes…'

Antonio buried his face in the crook of my neck and kissed the still somewhat sensitive skin.

'For what?' I muttered, wincing a bit because dammit, his fucking lips tickled, '…f-for convincing me?'

'Ah, I at least deserve a kiss for achieving that, don't you think so?~'

One of his hands was carefully placed to the side of my face and he tilted it to the side, where his own face was.

'Well.'

I swallowed, moistening my lips with a quick lick of my tongue and moving myself a bit closer to him.

'…that's the least you deserve, yes…'

'Alright then.'

So we kissed.

…

Yeah. We tend to do that.

…

But we probably must have fallen asleep pretty soon after that kiss, because I don't remember anything else about this night anymore when I woke up the next morning.

**xXx**

It probably wasn't even _that _late already when I opened my eyes the morning after, because the sunlight that came in through the curtains was still very feeble, very easy to ignore.

Still, despite of the early hour and despite of the fact that I actually needed a lot more sleep than the sleep I eventually was allowed to enjoy, I had woken up already.

And Antonio, too, because I looked right into his open, but sleepy eyes, which, as always, brightened up a little bit when Antonio realized he had my full, drowsy attention.

'Good-morning, Lovi…'

'Yeah, morning…' I said back, smacking my lips a bit, and stretched my arms. Apparently, Antonio had slid off me during the night, because I actually _could_ stretch my arms.

…

And he was, you know, lying _next_ to me. Not on _top _of me.

…

Shut up, it was _very_ early in the morning, okay.

'So, Lovino… since you're awake now anyway…' Antonio started, clearing his throat and turning to lie on his stomach, '…how was Budapest, hm?'

I gave him a weird look, but then I got what he was trying to say – and flipped myself over as well.

'I don't know.'

He blinked. 'Why not? I thought Hungary and you had an appointment there…'

'We had.' I said, leaning my head on my folded arms, '…but after spending so many hours in such a small _shit_-car while hearing all about Hungary's… experiences with you, I didn't feel like visiting Budapest anymore.'

Antonio furrowed his eyebrows and stared at an invisible point somewhere in front of him for a little while, before sighing deeply, resting his head on his arms as well.

'Hm… she told you all about it, didn't she…'

I snorted. '_Worse_ – she told me all about it _and __more_.'

'A-ah…' Antonio paled a bit.

'You…'

I scowled, reached out a hand and poked his cheek.

'…you really were quite the bastard.'

'I know.' He nodded. 'I'm not even going to deny it, Lovino. I definitely wasn't a nice nation. Or _person_. Or… whatever I was supposed to be. You know that. And I was a _horrible_ friend, too.'

'She – Hungary – said that you didn't give a fuck about the things you did to her and others. That you weren't reliable and never took your responsibility, _ever_.'

'Ha…' Antonio beamed a small smile at me and shrugged, '…maybe it's not a very good excuse, but back then, I was young and powerful, Lovino. Young, powerful – and thirsty for _more_ wealth, _more_ influence.'

I shook my head. 'When your empire began to fall, your personality still was pretty rotten, according to Hungary's story.'

'Some things need time to get better, I guess. And some things need even _more_ time to… well…'

Antonio's smile began to falter.

Oh.

It happened again.

Not good – I wanted to _confront_ him, not _depress_ him.

Alarmed, I wiggled myself closer towards him – I bet I looked like a fucking caterpillar having a stroke but _what __the __hell_ – and lifted up the sheets, sheepishly grabbing the side of his fail-dress to pull myself against him.

'H-hey, don't make that face. It's… it's not like you're still an asshole.'

To my surprise, Antonio _laughed_ a bit – and it sounded a lot more confident than I had thought it would.

'Oh, I know that _very_ well now, don't you worry. I'm _done_ acting like a pathetic dweep that can't handle his past, Lovino.' Antonio reassured me while repositioning himself and gathering me in his arms, chuckling softly.

'…no, I think it's time for me to move forwards already.'

'Yeah, well, so do I.' I mumbled under my breath.

He pulled up my shirt a bit and slipped his hands underneath it, moving them to my back.

'I… still need to tell you _my _side of all the stories you've heard so far, though.'

'Yes. But…' I frowned and traced a finger up and down his chest, '…there's no rush. I know about you past now anyway. Besides… first things first. For now, just make sure you're… g-going to enjoy the following days…'

'Ah! Yes, certainly!' Antonio grinned. '…ah, the last few days I have left before my days as a single, unmarried man are over and I'm trapped forever…'

My frown deepened and I was about to pinch and twist a nipple of his in a way that was far, _far _from pleasurable – although you never know for sure with Antonio and his weird fetishes – when suddenly…

…the door was opened.

…

Very calmly, very gently.

…

Very unsettling.

And it became even _more_ unsettling when Hungary's friendly smile appeared in the doorway. Accompanied by Hungary.

'Hello dears! Are you two awake yet?' she asked, already stuffing her nose with tissues.

'Yes – good job, right? We're up early!' Antonio eagerly answered her, barely noticing my horrified face as he sat up.

'A _very _good job, Spain!' Hungary praised him like a mother would praise her son, '…now you and Romano can come down to the kitchen so we can all discuss about what we're going to do these last days for the wedding!~'

'Right… there's probably still enough that needs to be done.'

'Indeed. So get your gorgeous bums out of bed, put out some clothes and come downstairs. Alright?'

'Alright!~' Antonio said, chipper as ever.

'Alright with you too, Roma?' Hungary insisted.

'I had locked that door.' I croaked.

'Wonderful!~ Well!~' Hungary happily waved at us, '…see you in a flash, then!~'

And she closed the door.


	57. Bumpy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Last Wednesday, an Euro-Top was held. During that Euro-Top, several things were discussed concerning the financial crisis in Europe… and guess what – I'm going to let the Euro-Top (which is some kind of EU-meeting, only very very very much more important for us Europeans) appear in this chapter, since I think and hope to have heard enough about it to give you guys an impression about what the hell's going on on my continent.  
_…_and __I __also __needed __the __other __European __characters __of __Hetalia __to __make __an __appearance __in __this __fic__ – __partly __because __it__'__s __part __of __the __plot, __but __also __because __I __really __really __wanted __to __write __them._^^ _Also, __America. __Just __because __I __missed __him. _XDDDDD  
_Oh, __before __I __forget __it: __please __forgive __me __for __letting __the __Euro-Top __happen __on __Monday __in __this __chapter, __it __just __worked __out __better __this __way._^^

_A/n2: Last time, I told you about which European countries have the most attractive females. In response to some reviews, I promised to look up which 5 European countries had the most attractive men…  
_…_but __I __can__'__t __find __any __reliable __sources __on __the __mighty __internet. __What __the __hell? _:I _Every __single __site __says __something __else, __dammit!  
__So yeah, let me give you a list of European countries with attractive men that I found the most on all these weird sites…  
__**England**, **Spain**, **Italy**, **Germany**, **France**, **Turkey** and **Russia** were the countries I stumbled upon the most.  
__Oh, and outside of Europe, (**North**) **America**, **Argentina** and **Australia **are frequently called as countries filled with wildly attractive males.  
__So – pick your choice!~ _

_A/n3: As most of you might know, I'm planning to do a sequel of this fic after I've finished it – and taken a big nice rest from it to focus myself on slightly more important things (like school – it's my last year, after all).  
__But.  
__I… also have **another **Spamano-fic idea in my mind. A Spamano-fic that has got nothing to do with this fic whatsoever – an AU I think it's called – but that has certainly made me have second thoughts about writing a sequel or not…  
__You tell me: should I just write that sequel after this or should I give that AU I have in mind a shot?_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVII:

_**Mister Bumpy – The Flasher Song  
**__**(Durwood Douche)**_

…

Well.

As soon as Hungary and all of her outstanding creepiness had left my and Antonio's bedroom and as soon as Antonio and I had washed ourselves and put on some clothes, a feverish raid of the entire room followed in which I searched every closet, every suspicious opening, every lamp and every other logical and possible hiding spot for _motherfucking __camera__'__s_, while Antonio hummed a carefree Spanish song and remade the bed with fresh sheets.

We always did that.

Changing sheets, I mean.

Yes. Every single Antonio and I had sex or… something that surely _looked_ a lot like sex but _probably _was just some freaky masturbation-session in reality the night before, we'd change the "old" sheets with new, clean, _unsexed _ones the morning after. It had become something like a routine – a routine that our lifestyle and sexlife _really_ needed, because even though I sometimes liked to have dirty, nasty sex in an equally dirty, nasty bed just as much as every other simple man with needs, I most of the time wanted the sex and _especially _the bed to be…

…clean.

…

Wait, that's not the right word.

_Nice_. _Comfortable_. _Non-sticky_.

Yes.

…

What? I just really, _really_hated sticky sheets, okay? Do you _know_ how _gross _it is to moan and roll around in your own dried-up sperm and sweat? It's no fucking dip in a field of roses, let me tell you that much!

So.

_That__'__s_ why we made a habit of changing the sheets after every steamy night of sex, just so that we could happily and eagerly ruin all of the helpless linen again as soon as we got the opportunity to do so, which was mostly on the exact same day we cleaned the sheets, because we liked living by the rules of irony and stupidness.

…

Yeah.

Maybe we should do something about that.

'Lovino?'

Antonio's sudden and upbeat voice made me look up from the floor – I was just busy inspecting the space underneath our bed – and, of course, glare at him.

'What?'

'Um.' Antonio laughed sheepishly and scratched his chin. '…so, how's the search for hidden camera's going, hm? Have you found some already?'

'_No_,' I nagged, stressing the "o" as I planted my face against the carpet again, '…but give me some more time. I'm _sure _that psycho bitch has hidden camera's here _somewhere_.'

'But underneath the bed, Lovi? _Really_?'

…

Oh.

He once again had a point – he _really_ needed to stop doing that, it was getting scary – but _like __fucking __hell _I was going to admit the silliness of hiding a camera underneath a bed.

'What! It's not _impossible_!' I snarled, carefully touching the floor under the bed while thinking of a way to blabber myself out of this.

Antonio seemed to think all of this was _very_ amusing, since I heard him snickering.

'What are you doing now?~'

'Touching the fucking floor – do you mind?'

'Why are you touching the floor?~'

'Maybe… maybe she has a secret… _access __hatchway _or something down here…' I prompted – and instantly thought to myself that this wasn't even such a stupid thought of mine because my _god_, I could definitely imagine Hungary digging her way from her room to my and Antonio's room _with __her __bare __nails_.

And _camera_.

'A _what_?' Antonio laughed some more. 'An… access hatchway, Lovino?'

'Yes, an—'

'Do you even know what an access hatchway _is_, my love?'

…

Crap.

See, Lovino? This is what you get for using unknown words that only sounded cool in your mind. Serves you fucking _right_.

'Um—' I started.

'Isn't that an old, weird term for an opening or passage in a certain construction for the crew of a ship?'

_Damn_ that Spaniard and his pirate past.

'Well—'

'You're a _sailor_, Lovi?'

'No, I'm not a sailor at a— god, _shut __up _already! You know what I fucking mean with that, you annoying bastard! A secret passage somewhere in the floor, okay? A secret passage! That's what I'm talking about, dammit!'

'Ah… okay.'

'Now shut your fucking face and let me grope the floor in _peace_!'

'Alright, alright…'

Antonio chuckled and I heard him walking away from the bed.

**xXx**

Five embarrassing minutes later, I crawled up from the floor and dusted myself off.

'And?' Antonio immediately piped up behind me, '…did you find any—'

'No.' I cleared my throat. '…there's nothing here at all. Not in the room and not _underneath _the room, either.'

'Ah. Well.' Antonio sighed. '…that's a relief.'

I frowned and stared at the carpet.

'…Lovino?' Antonio asked, placing his hands on my shoulders.

'…a-about the Hiding-Hungary-theory.'

'God, you even gave it a _nam_— I mean, yes, what about it?~'

'It was a _good_ theory, right?'

'Yes, sweetie, it was a _very _good theory.'

'Okay.'

'It was an access hatchway to a lot of other Hungary-theories.'

'_Fuck_ you, Antonio. Fuck you _very_ much.'

After that comment, Antonio couldn't stop his repressed giggling any longer.

**xXx**

A fistful of anger _straight_ in the Spanish stomach and a shirt, yet dramatic performance of weird gasping, on-the-floor-falling and stomach-clutching later, Antonio and I left our bedroom.

Me looking pissed and red-faced as ever, Antonio looking…

…

Good and fucking handsome as ever.

…

He recovered quickly, that's why.

The door of the room next to ours (the right one) opened as well and Feliciano and the Germanic bulldozer cheerfully came out, both having faint, "adorable" blushes on their faces, wet hair – bet those nasty bastards showered together – and a slightly limply way of walking.

_Especially_ Feliciano.

But he didn't seemed to care a lot about that as he happily hold the German's hand and tittered all kinds of things to him, completely unaware of the fact Antonio and I were walking just behind them, which was _good_ – I didn't want to talk to those two insane bed-wreckers yet.

I noticed something glittering on Feliciano's hand, though, but before I even fully realized that was the glittering of his ridiculous tomato-ring-thing, Antonio suddenly grabbed my left hand and raised it up.

'What the fuck are you doing.' I huffed sorely, still a bit mad at him for making me look like a fool earlier this morning – even though I didn't try to yank my hand free.

He smiled and took a familiar ring out of his pocket, calmly slipping it on my ring finger.

'Oh, don't mind me – I'm just claiming you as my cranky but lovable fiancé again, Lovino.'

I stared at the ring. Then I lifted my face to stare at him.

'T-that's my ring.'

'It is.'

Antonio's fingers intertwined themselves with mine – and I felt a little jolt of delight running through my veins when I felt he was _also_ wearing his ring.

'W-when did you…' I stammered.

'Just before we left the room.'

Antonio's long fingers softly rubbed the back of my hand.

'I figured we might start wearing them again now that we've had our little trip to Rome. You _are _my fiancé, after all. Everybody is allowed to see that – even the _Italians_ were allowed to see that, if it had been up to me to decide.'

I couldn't help it – I had to smile a bit.

'Dork.'

'Aww. That's the sweetest thing you've said to me this morning!~'

'I don't think so, darling.'

Antonio firstly laughed at that in response, but then his slow, _slow_brain managed to process the wussy information I had given him and at least, he looked at me in shock, an intense blush successfully covering his entire face, neck and ears in a heavy, bright-red glow.

'L-Lovi… did you just call me…'

'Nope, not gonna say it again.' I cut him off, quickly looking the other way with a smirk tugging on the corners of my mouth.

He shut up for a minute or so, but then he grinned and pulled me closer, giving me a tight hug, his arms squeezing my shoulders lightly.

'I still heard it, though…'

Aside from an extremely half-assed protest, I remained silent – but I doubt he could miss the now _very _present smirk on my also somewhat flushed face.

**xXx**

It wasn't until the four of us were all seated in Antonio's big kitchen before Feliciano finally noticed us – and immediately start waving at me as if I wasn't sitting right next to him but 500 fucking meters away from him.

Hungary was nowhere in sight.

_Suspicious._

'Veee… good _morning_, big brother!' my younger brother's voice suddenly _ripped _through the laid-back atmosphere, '…did you sleep okay?'

'I think I slept a lot more than _you_ guys.' I remarked, wiggling a finger in my ear because _damn _that moron knew how to use and abuse decibels.

'Ohhh?~' Feliciano giggled slyly, '…welllllllll, I think you and Big Brother-In-Law Toni also lack a lot of sleep, Lovi…~ I could hear _you_, too…~'

I shuddered and rubbed my temples. 'I _know _you could, dammit…'

'Hey hey, did you know you sound a lot like me when you come?'

Antonio nodded enthusiastically. 'I know, right? Ahahahaha!~'

'_Shut _the _fuck _up. _Both_ of you.'

'Veee, it's just that I didn't know your voice could reach that level of shrillness!~'

'Feliciano, _please_…'

Antonio clacked his tongue. 'Hmmm, I don't know, Feli, I think I can make his voice reach even higher levels if I want to…'

My face almost caught on fire now.

'WHA—YOU were the one _breaking _last night, you fucking asshole!'

'I'm not sure about that…' Feliciano said, tapping the side of his face, '…what do _you_ think, Ludwig?'

'You're all idiots.' Germany said.

'No, _you__'__re_ an idiot!' I lamely responded, pointing a finger at him.

Naturally, he ignored me and looked around him.

'Where's Hungary, by the way? Weren't we supposed to gather here?'

And right on cue, almost as if she had actually _waited _for Germany to say these words (and I think she really had), Hungary didn't walk, but _waltzed _into the kitchen, her arms filled with photo's, books, documents, maps, files, newspapers, dossiers and writing-cases.

'_Jesus_.' I muttered under my breath while the Hungarian woman and the mountain of papery shit approached the table and automatically shoved my chair backwards.

As soon as she had reached the table, Hungary dropped everything on top of it with a soft grunt, wiping her slightly sweaty forehead with her sleeve, while the rest and I stared at the pile of paper that slowly spread itself all over the table, not-leaving a single wooden spot uncovered.

And I saw… well, I saw a _lot _of things in the heaps of paper.

The blue front of my not-so-secret-sketchbook, pictures of several nations during EU-meetings (probably taken that one time when England had fallen asleep and France the Fuckface had started drawing purple penises wearing monocles on his face), maps of Madrid, pictures of diverse churches, files filled with scraps of magazines, newspapers in at least four different languages, advertisements about wedding photographers, long sheets of paper with wedding-food and catering stuff suggestions (and I'm _not _making this up, that's what the curly title of the sheets said: _The __Big __Wedding - Food __and __Catering __Stuff __-list_) and… and… and…

…well, and a whole lot _more_…lettery crap. Let's leave it there.

'Well?~' Hungary excitedly asked the four of us, her green eyes glittering with the intensity of a thousand hungry crocodiles.

'It's…' Feliciano's eyes started to shine as well as he instinctively collected some piles of paper in his arms and _flung_ all of it in the air, '…veee, it's a _paper __**sea**_!~'

'It's a lot of… paper, alright…' Germany nodded, frowning at a picture of Prussia and himself dancing on top of the table of a conference room – taking shortly after the _Oktoberfest_.

'It's a _paper __**party**_!~' Feliciano yelled somewhere in the background, still flailing his arms.

Antonio didn't say anything at all – he had managed to grab the Wedding-Food and Catering Stuff –list and studied the entire thing like I had _never _seen him study something with letters on it before, which was just as amusing as it was shocking for me to see.

'Veee, it's a _paper __**monst**_—'

'Oh _god_, shut the _hell_ up already!' I snarled, giving Feliciano a hard shove in the back so that he smacked his face _right _into a heavy-looking dossier saying _"__All __about __the __relations __between __Italy __and __Germany__"__._

Meanwhile, Hungary observed us all with a dismissive look on her face, her eyebrows lowered and her lips bent in an annoyed little curve.

I was the first one to notice and quickly nudged both Antonio and Feliciano in the side – hooray for having two elbows.

'What?' Antonio said, looking up with an irritated expression – but _immediately _tossing the list to the side as he caught the scary fake-smile creeping over Hungary's face, almost just as hastily as Feliciano stopped complaining about having the entire title of the fat dossier _stamped_ into his forehead.

'Oh, please _do _tell me when you're finished acting like a bunch of hyperactive children – maybe I can finish _Lady __Chatterly__'__s __Lover _in the meantime then, instead of trying to tell you what's the meaning of all the files and information lying on the table in front of you.'

Hungary _scowled_, putting her hands on her hips and looking each and every one of us straight in the eye.

…not at the same time, of course, but still – in less than ten seconds, she had all of our paled-faced attention, thanks to the way she _glared _at us.

Finally, after some more seconds filled with dreadful silence, she raised her eyebrows again in an almost comically way.

'Oh? So you'll _listen_ to me? Well, I'm honored! Thank you very much for giving your slightly frustrated wedding planner the chance to talk with you about the way we're going to fill the rest of the week!'

'You're welcome.' I mumbled – and the rest of the table nodded consentingly like the fucking cowards they were.

'Let's see…' Hungary said, taking a small notebook _slash_ diary out of her bra like it was very natural for females to keep stuff up there (maybe it was, I don't know), '…hmmm, it's Saturday now… which means it's _weekend_ now… which means we have less than a week to prepare the last couple of things for your big day. Care to listen _what _things are planned to be done on _which_ days, boys?~'

We all sheepishly bobbed our heads again. Bob bob.

Hungary finally flashed a more genuine smile at us and patted on the table – or actually on the stuff that was _on _the table.

'This weekend – today and tomorrow – you are going to make the official invitations to your wedding!~ Now, I know what you're going to say: the whole world already knows about your wedding, what a waste of time, yaddayaddayadda, but I _don__'__t_ _care_ – the other nations never actually received an invitation, and that's why _you__'__re _going to make them the following two days. _By __hand_. _**All **__**of **__**them**_. But don't worry – I'll help you, and you're free to use all of the things I've dumped on the table for inspiration!~'

'What?' My jaw dropped.

'Can't we just… make _one_ invitation and copy that one a hundred times or so?' Antonio cleverly (seriously, Antonio – _stop __it_) suggested, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

'_No_.' Hungary narrowed her eyes at him. 'Absolutely _not__ – _you and the Italies can't afford or even _consider _spending more money than you actual need. Or _have_, for all that matters.'

Feliciano pouted. 'B-but—'

'It's _crisis_, Veni! Especially in your and Spain's country! You need all the opportunities to safe money you can get!' Hungary explained.

Germany, surprisingly, seemed to agree wholeheartedly with the Hungarian woman's statement.

'She's right, we really need to tone the costs down as much as we can. Not only because we're suffering from a financial crisis, but also because I don't really want to knock on my boss' office-door to ask her if we can use her expensive copy-machine for making copies of our wedding-invitations. She's got more than enough problems to use copy-paper for already. Besides, she would think I'm a mean, selfish bastard.'

'I know I'm thinking that.' I remarked – but was silenced by Hungary's warning eyes.

'Right!~' she suddenly said, looking away from my nervous face with a jolt and clapping her hands together, '…so _that__'__s _what you're going to do this weekend! And that following Monday, right after the crisis-EU-meeting, you're going to give the invitations! AND… you're going to do… _something_ that's going to save you four lovelies even _more _money for the weddings!~'

'Really? That's great!' Antonio exclaimed.

'Wait a minute… saving money by doing _what_?' I wanted to know, but Hungary made an "all will be explained to you when the moment's there~" –handwave and calmly continued her Things-To-Do-checklist.

'On _Tuesday_, we're going to visit the church that I thought was the best option for holding the wedding with _that __many _guests and we're going to find out where to place everybody, and how to decorate the place, and at what time, etcetera.'

'Oh! Oh!' Feliciano clasped his hand together with mine and hopped up and down in his chair, '…that sounds like a perfect job for us to do, right, Lovi?~ We'll lead the rest!'

'Yeah…' I slowly admitted, vaguely smiling back at him, '…that sounds like—'

'On _Wednesday_,' Hungary carried on like an unstoppable fucking _train_, '…you're going to practice what you're going to say on Friday (you know, the usual stuff, vows and all) _and_ you're going to practice dancing, which is _essential _if you're planning to have the first dance of the evening after getting married. Spain has a great ballroom, or so I've heard, so this shouldn't be a problem.'

By hearing the word "dance", Antonio's entire being seemed to light up a bit and he gave me a soft, loving smile.

'That sounds great! Don't you think so, Lovi? I can't wait to dance the first dance of the evening with you, my love…'

I couldn't form words for some reason and so, I just frowned, blushed and nodded at him. It had been a long time since the last time Antonio and I had danced… I wondered if I still knew how to do it, really.

'Then, Thursday.' The brunette looked up from her little book and took a deep breath. 'On Thursday, we're going to rehearse the wedding with a small selection of the guests – not everybody could make it – and… well, and after that, you're free for the rest of the day to do whatever you want to do, but I highly recommend you to make an appointment with your best man to discuss your duties during the wedding day on Friday.'

'Best man?' Germany blinked. 'Oh god, that's true – we need to have a best man…'

'Oh, that's alright – since every invited country is able to come to your wedding this Friday, you can pick your best man during the meeting this Monday.' Hungary reassured him – and the rest of us as well, since we all had totally forgot about picking our best man.

'Veee… I'm going to pick Kiku!~' Feliciano enthusiastically said, '…if Lovi wasn't getting married on the same day as me, I'd have picked him, of course, but now I'll definitely pick Kiku!'

Germany smiled. 'Yes, Japan would certainly appreciate that. Hopefully, my brother will, too…'

'You're going to pick Gil as your best man, Luddy?'

'It's the most logical option. And don't call me "Luddy".'

'Veee… and what about you, Big Brother-In-Law Toni?' Feliciano looked at Antonio.

'Me?' Antonio chuckled, '…well, since most of my relatives either hate me, laugh at me or want to have nothing to do with me, I think I'll ask Francis to be my best man!~ We're practically brothers anyway!~'

'That's an _awful_ and _depressing_ and _disgusting _thing to say.' I shuddered.

'And you, Lovi?' Antonio touched my arm. '…who are _you_ going to pick?'

…

…

Um.

I… I actually hadn't got a single clue yet.

I couldn't ask Feliciano – and I wasn't planning to ask any of my other, estranged relatives in Italy to be my best man or woman.

…

Which mean there was only one fairly reasonable nation left for me to pick.

…

But I firstly wanted to think about it some more.

So that's what I told the curious faces of Antonio and the rest.

'That's okay – you still have a whole weekend to think about it!' Hungary said with a comforting smile, '…and it's a great way to kill time during the invitation-making!~'

I groaned. 'You're really serious about this invitation-thing, aren't you?'

'**DEAD **serious.' Hungary breathed darkly – and successfully scared the _shit_ out of me. 'We have a busy week ahead of us, after all, so we better get started with those invitations.'

'Right _now_?' Antonio whined, looking down at the heap of paper and despair on the table.

'Right _now_.' the brunette insisted.

'Yay!'

Feliciano bounced off his chair and fired a blinding, beaming smile at our select group at the kitchen table as he slowly started walking backwards.

'…okay, you stay here, then I'll go get the glue! And glitters! And cardboard boxes! And pencils, and scissors, and paint, and ink, and pens, and beads…'

'Don't forget my coloring book!' Antonio informed my brother's retreating figure – and sat up straight, refreshed, rolling up his sleeves just like Germany was doing.

As for me, I just sat and stared at the three other persons around the table for a moment – Hungary enthusiastically talking to Antonio about the best way to start an invitation, Antonio eagerly listening to her and collecting all the photo's on the table and Germany practicing his handwriting on the backside of a poster with all the concentration he could muster – before I felt a strange, thrilling and unknown feeling of excitement shoot through me and let out a short, inaudible laugh, grabbing my sketchbook.

It was _really_ happening now.

The countdown had finally begun.

…

_Yes_.

Now let's make some stupid invitations!

**xXx Days before the Wedding xXx  
**_**Saturday and Sunday**_

It must be no surprise that my brother, Antonio, Germany, Hungary and I spent the rest of the weekend to making ridiculous invitations and barely left the kitchen, except for toilet-breaks and pizza-breaks, because personifications or not, we still needed to piss, shit and eat, _dammit_, and nothing anybody could do about that.

...

It became a horrible weekend, alright.

We started off alright: we all were on _fire _and raging to make the best invitations the whole fucking world would even get to see and really, the first few 5, 10 invitations _were _pretty awesome (half of them was made by a very eager and artsy Feliciano), with pretty and clever stuck-together pictures of churches, flowers, newspaper-articles and cool drawings, but when invitation #16 was finished, most of us started to get fed up with the whole… well… group-activity.

Which was very, _very _bad. I mean, Europe has 50 countries and we weren't even _almost _halfway when boredom and lack of inspiration struck the four of us.

Luckily, Hungary still had enough energy and craziness to get our asses back to work again when things _really _seemed to go down the drain – Antonio had fallen asleep in a puddle of glue – _a __fucking __puddle __of __glue_, Germany's neat handwriting looked more like the incomprehensible scrabbling of a three-year-old, Feliciano refused to make any more invitations before someone had given him some pasta, _veee_ _veee_, and I… well, I was busy glaring at a blank card, hoping the words and glitters would _miraculously _appear on the paper – so it was good the Hungarian brunette was with us, really.

Thanks to her and her frying pan, we managed to finish 55 fairly decent invitations (America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Japan were invited as well, after all) exactly on time – seriously, as the big clock on the wall of Antonio's kitchen told us it was 0:00 AM, the end of Sunday and the beginning of Monday, _I __was __the __one __who __licked __the __last __fucking __envelope __containing __the __last __fucking __invitation_.

'F-finished… I'm finished… _we_'re finished…' I gasped, throwing that last pinkish envelope on the pile of other finished pink/purple/blue/green/yellow/orange/red envelopes, and slowly turned my face to the others, hoping to see some delighted and impressed and "oh, I suddenly feel so alive and energetic again thanks to your efforts, Lovi/big brother/Romano/dear!~"-ish expressions…

…but instead, I was met with a knocked-out Germany and Hungary, a weak "way to go veeeeeeeeeee" –thumbs-up of my younger brother before he instantly fell unconscious, his head banging on the table, and a heavy, but friendly-meant pat on the head of Antonio, who, because of the glue, had a scissor and some pages of his coloring book stuck to his tired face.

…

Oh well – a pat and a thumbs-up is better than nothing…

…and I was too exhausted and cramped up from cutting paper and drawing weird smiley-faces to care anyway…

'God, I swear…'

I groaned softly while folding my arms on the back of an already sleeping Antonio and resting my head on top of them.

'…I swear I'll fucking _kill _you if you have the guts to get cold feet after _this_, you Spanish bastard…'

Antonio only snored in response.

**xXx Days before the Wedding xXx  
**_**Monday**_

They say that waking up way too early can leave you quite dazed for the rest of the day, or at least the morning, right?

Well, let me tell you one thing…

Falling asleep at 12 o'clock and getting an urgent call from your boss at 5 o'clock with the urgent message to wake the fuck up, get dressed (neatly) and get to the Euro-Top meeting as fast as your wobbly and unstable legs can carry you _**certainly **_has a special effect on your state of mind – it's like you're fucking _tripping _as you try to get dressed, like there's this thick, hazy cloud floating around in-between your brain cells while you try to get a grip on reality, like you're… a _freaking __zombie_…

Still, we must _somehow _have succeeded into dragging our lifeless shells of bodies to the Big Conference Room – don't ask me in what country that fucking room even was, I have no idea, but I suppose it was somewhere in Belgium – because when I finally started to regain my senses thanks to the strong scent of coffee and tea in the air, I noticed the five of us were sitting at a large, laaaaaaaaarge round table with 22 other countries – all members of the European Union.

…

First bright thought that occurred to me: well _fuck_.

I had almost forgot that not the _whole _of Europe was a member of the EU, which meant that we had to go deliver the rest of the invitations to all other European/Canadian/_what __the __fuck __ever_ –countries right after this stupid meeting.

_Shit_.

I seriously wondered if I even had any energy left to do that after this meeting, because France, England and Germany had already warned us right at the start that this was going to be a long and painful meeting in which the leaders of the European Union were going to "discuss the future of the Euro and the situation in Spain, Greece, Italy and Portugal" while we personifications would nod along and endure the whole process.

…

And America was here, too.

…

Why. Why was America here. Just _why_.

Ugh, this was going to be terrible…

**xXx**

_Ten __fucking __hours _of bickering, snarling, waving around with clenched fists, glaring, annoyance and intense and unsettling nerve-wrenching _boredom _later, the Euro-Top-meeting finally came to its end – our much more mature bosses had reached a couple of very much welcomed conclusions and solutions and when an informant came to our Big Conference Room to pass it, England instantly hopped up from his chair in order to grab the papers – only to be pushed back on his seat by Belgium, because a Belgian man was the boss of the EU, which meant _she _was the boss of _our _EU, which meant she had all rights to push that nagging Brit back to his seat.

'Okay then!~' Belgium began, sounding fresher than she actually _looked_, with her crumpled turquoise dress and those huge bags under her eyes, '…I'm glad to tell you all that this long and intensive meeting… is almost _over_!'

'About _time_…'

'Th't's gr't.'

'God, Belgium – you're, like, a very pretty girl, but that _dress_. It's, like, _awful_.'

'Oh _god, __**YES**_.'

'I'm bored.'

'I'm tired.'

'I'm _dead_.'

'No, you're not.'

'Hahahaha! Nice! God, and what a pointless meeting this was! You all look like crap! I wonder why I even came over in the first place!'

'Because _our _financial status could have a nasty impact on _your _financial status as well, you bloody bastard – your boss said so himself!'

'Ohhh?~ What's the matter, England? Are your _butt-pains _acting up again, honhonhonhon…~'

…and then England suddenly _flipped_, and had to be hold back by both Sweden and Denmark as the sloppy-looking Englishman tried to tackle France, while the rest of the countries started to cheer for either England or France because _god_, finally something _happened_, except for me, Greece, Antonio, Belgium and Germany, because we actually had brains – and because Greece, Antonio and I had gotten too anxious and depressed about the information in Belgium's hands to respond to the happenings _at __all_.

And yes. Yes, that was a _very _long sentence.

…

In case you're wondering: that's right, Feliciano _did_ join the cheering-choir, the moron even sided with France.

'U-um…' Belgium looked around her with a slightly panicked smile on her face and tugged on her brother's sleeve, who was apparently enjoying the show rather… thoughtfully.

'Daan, could you please help me out here—'

'No. Too busy. I'm thinking.'

'Thinking about _what_!'

'Thinking about how I can blame all of this on Spain, somehow.'

Belgium made a face and slapped the Netherlands against the back of his spiky head.

'Ouch.'

'You idiot! As if _those _kinds of mean thoughts will help our economical status!'

He snorted. 'You just try to get a government first.'

'I-I'm working on it!'

But just as Belgium and her big brother were about to start a fight as well – and just as I had decided to hide myself underneath the table because of, well, _everything_, Germany suddenly slammed his huge hands on the table-plate.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The noise _pounded_ through the room like a massive sledge hammer and was _incredibly_ loud, loud enough for the rest of the countries to stop their bickering and look up at the stressed out German in confusion and/or disappointment.

'RIGHT,' he said when it finally became somewhat quieter, sighing deeply and rubbing his eyes with a finger and a thumb, '…could we all _please _go back to our seats? I believe Belgium has some _very _important information to tell us all.'

'That's right!' Belgium huffed, making herself taller, '…you see this huge pack of paper? I already flipped a bit through it while you were pulling each other's hair out, and I've seen that our bosses have decided that these hard times will eventually get better, if we execute and obey to these four resolutions as good as we can… here, pass it through… oh, and could you four please read it out loud to the rest, Austria, Hungary, France, England…'

'Very well.'

As soon as Austria had received his share of sheets, he cleared his throat and stood up from his chair.

'Resolution one, concerning the financial debt crisis of Greece: the EU is willing to take half off your debt, so that you, Greece, and your inhabitants, are able to make some drastic changes in order to save your country from bankruptcy and, of course, pay your remaining dues.'

The Austrian paused and glared at the terrible-looking Greek, who only sighed and nodded and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Eager to break the uncomfortable silence that followed, Hungary rose from her chair as well and smiled sweetly at her boyfriend, before she, too, read out loud what was written on the paper.

'Two: the EU is planning to increase the emergency-fund we have now for countries that are financially unstable with 1 billion Euro, so that these countries and other countries in the EU will have it better during difficult times like these.'

She didn't say _which _countries were meant with "financially unstable" countries, but since every other nation around us exchanged glances with me, Feliciano, Antonio and Greece, I think it was _pretty_ _damn_ clear to us which ones were meant.

After giving me and Feliciano a reassuring wink, Hungary sat down – and France saw this as a sign for him to stand up, so he did – in spite of the fact his face looked slightly damaged, since England had apparently managed to smack him anyway.

'Right!~ The third resolution…'

France purposely paused for a moment, smiling blissfully and obviously enjoying the full attention that the rest of the European nations finally _willingly_ gave to him, until _someone _shouted "read it or sod off, you frog!".

'…as I was saying, the third resolution says that… all of the banks in the countries of the EU need to have some sort of _buffer_ of 9% – that way, when the banks are getting into financial trouble, they always have a bit money on the side that could help them recover… or at least cover part of the costs.'

The Western European countries all started muttering and I could hear things like "good thing we already _have _a buffer like that"… and a _lot_ of sighs in relief.

'Right. Then, the last resolution our bosses have made…' England spoke up, ignoring France – who was quickly pulled down by Antonio and Belgium before he could do something stupid like, well, _talking_.

'According to this paper, Greece, Spain, Portugal and Italy need to do some _heavy_ expenditure restraints – in other words, they need to cut down all their costs as much as possible, if they still want to be part of this union and get money. So please, before at least three of you _tossers_ pack your bags and go on your faggish honeymoon…'

England narrowed his eyes at us – but especially at Spain – and snorted.

'…please know that we're expecting a _lot_ of you. Don't let us down. The future of the Euro… no, the whole of _Europe_ depends on it. Am I clear?'

Greece, Antonio, Feliciano and I didn't dare to say a word, really, so we made a sound of acknowledgement and stared at the table – at least _I_ did.

Then, somebody clapped his hands really loudly.

'Well!' America suddenly piped up, '…are we done with the Latino-bashing? Yes? Good! Hope you all feel proud! _Loving_ this awkward atmosphere here! Now, let's move on to the next useless discussion or, even better, let's just hit the road and have some milkshakes somewhere in town and make fun of England's grammar and accent! Can't! _Can__'__t_! Who the fuck cares!'

'H-HEY!' England stammered, while the rest of the nations snickered and dared to relax a bit and take a few well-deserved breathes.

America laughed at England's uneasiness. 'Don't worry, Mr. McDuck – I have confidence in your continent's financial plans, so I'll pay for the milkshakes this time!'

'I'm in.' the Netherlands immediately said, raising his hand.

Soon, other hands and counties followed:

'Oh, count me in as well!~'

'Yes, me too!'

'I've _had_ it with these damn walls!'

'I could, like, _totally_ go for a milkshake!'

This wave of positive reactions caused America to fucking _fly _off his chair and stand on top of it, one pointed finger raised to the air, his other hand firmly planted on his hips and one of his feet on top of the table, while he let out a proud and satisfied laugh.

'Ha! And once again, the day is saved! Thanks to… _**Powerpuff **__**America**_!'

…

So.

As the rest of the countries packed their belongings and decided to do that what they usually did when America was talking a bit too loud again – ignore him and try to think of happy thoughts – England slowly shook his head, muttering something about "rubbish" and "wankers", before he, too, started to shove his things in his suitcase, probably because he was also craving for a tasty milkshake.

I wanted to do what the rest was doing – packing my bags while wondering if tomato-milkshakes existed (although I doubted that everybody was wondering about that) – when Antonio suddenly grabbed my shoulders and shook me back and forth in panic.

'L-Lovi, the invitations, the invitations! We can't let them leave already, we must give them the invitations!'

I gasped. _Fuck_!

'Veee, and the rest is already leaving…' I heard Feliciano whine next to me.

'H-hold on, hold on!' I hysterically waved my hands in the air and made the most disturbing gestures at Belgium, who gave me a questioning look, then realized I wanted to say something to everybody and quickly took out a small whistle out of her bra (…it was a girl-thing, wasn't it?).

_FWEEEEEEEEEEEET_

The shrill, annoying sound of the whistle – which she could also have used earlier this morning, without having to rely on Germany's help – managed to instantly ignite a series of loud groans and cries of pains, as several countries fell on their knees (yeah, just make a show out of it, Prussia – wait, what the hell was he even doing here in the first place) or just covered their ears while glaring at the source of the pain, namely, Belgium.

But Belgium wasn't bothered at all, smiled her catlike smile like she didn't just almost destroy everyone's eardrums… and _pointed __at __me_.

'Sorry, everyone, but Roma here has something to tell us all before we go score a milkshake!~'

_Immediately_, at least 23 pairs of eyes, some annoyed, some curious, some just plain uninterested, were directed at me – and _immediately_, it was like my startled heart wanted to jump out of my chest from the shock of me getting _so __much __attention _at once.

Well _shit_.

I hastily glanced over my shoulders, to Antonio and the rest.

D-did _I _have to tell it?

A-_alone_?


	58. Derriere

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: A reviewer told me a couple of weeks ago that I hadn't used the fantastic word "derrière" as a title yet. My reason why I hadn't used that butt-word yet was because I thought it might be too French (no offense, I swear!) and unrecognizable, but that was stupid of me, because I think, I thiiiiink everybody here knows what a derrière is. _XDDDD _So I hereby apologize to that reviewer (s-sorry, I don't know who you are anymore…) for being so stubborn up to this point… and then I'd like to introduce you to the nice chapter-title of this week: derrière. Huzzah!~_

_A/n2: To the anonymous reviewers and the reviewer I couldn't reply to: thanks, you guys!~ _^^ _Your support and feedback is very much appreciated – but I find it hard to respond to you, heh… Hopefully, __**this**__ way of saying thank-you works out for you! _

_A/n3: Okay, so it seems most people would like me to write the sequel of this fic, but are also curious about that AU I was talking about… Let me give you one hint about what I have in mind for the AU: Notting Hill. Know the movie, with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant? Yeah, that one – in Hetalia-style!~  
__But really – both fics are equally awesome for me to write out, so it doesn't matter to me which one comes out as the winner. Anyway, for now, it seems like the sequel is going to win… Oh my!~ _8DDD

_A/n4: One word: __**GRANDMANO**_. *_* _UNF. HE WORKS THAT NIGHTGOWN. _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVIII:

_**Derrière L'Amour  
**__**(Johnny Halliday)**_

In mere seconds, the whole room was completely silent – except for one stammering Italian, standing in the middle of that same room, surrounded by_** flesh-eating DINOSAURS**_!

…

…okay, not _really_, but it's a _very_ good example about what kind of impact all those disgruntled countries with their dismissive, scraping eyes had on my poor and stressed-out imagination, alright!

'U-um… um…'

I swallowed something thick that was slowly trickling down my throat and knew my face was getting red and flustered as I tried to keep myself together… and fight against that _very_ tempting feeling of jumping out of the window/choosing _this_ very moment to blame everything that went wrong in my life on either Germany or Antonio or that one tree-like plant over there/bursting into very manly crying while cursing everybody within a 2 meter-radius.

…

But that wouldn't get me anywhere – except for option 1, which would get me out of the window – so I just… just decided to give it a go and _actually say something_.

'So… um… hi.'

What a _dazzling _start!

No surprise nobody in the conference room responded.

…except for America, who grinned broadly and even _waved_ at me.

'Well _hi_, Romano! How're you doing?'

'F-fine, fine…'

LIES.

As I was stuttering and struggling with words, the rest of the countries began to lose their interest and looked on their watches or sighted in mild annoyance.

O-oh fuck, _fuck_…

I shuffled my feet and kept on glancing over my shoulder, my panicky eyes silently _screaming_ at at least Antonio and Feliciano to _hurry their asses over here and help me out dammit dammit dammit—_

'So!~'

Antonio was the first one who realized I was pretty much shitting my pants in agony here and quickly came to my rescue, standing beside me and looking around the room with a bright and confident smile that slowly started losing its radiance as soon as he realized the others actually looked _quite_ intimidating.

'S-so!~' Antonio tried again, a light blush appearing on his face, '…um… so… the four of us have got to tell you something about… our wedding that's going to be held this Friday!~'

Oh _god_…

I winced a bit. To be honest, I had expected to see more annoyance appear on the faces of the European countries in front of us (since the meeting _really _didn't had a good effect on their moods) as soon as Antonio and his annoying cheerful voice spoke up, but I was wrong – the other nations actually seemed to get more and more interested, blinking their eyes and allowing small smiles to appear on their softening faces.

'Ah, so it's about their _wedding_!' Finland said, heaving a sigh of relief, '…oof, for a moment there I feared they were going to continue about the Euro-crisis again…'

'Dr'df'l.' Sweden agreed with a nod.

'Yes – or that they were, like, going to blabber about reasons why they totally shouldn't be blamed for the crisis again.' Poland said, rolling his eyes.

'Well, I _think_ they realize _that_ won't get them any further – not with a suspicious continent like _ours_.' Estonia reasoned with a smile, his eyes glued on his black little Smartphone.

'Oh!' Belgium clasped her hands together in delight, '…that's _right_, you guys are going to get _married_ this Friday!~ How _lovely_!'

'I'm only happy for Romano, Germany and Italy.' her brother explicitly pointed out.

'Wow! Two weddings this Friday! That's great! All this crap about the Euro almost made me forget about that! Congratulations again!' Denmark cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

'Yes, congratulations!'

'Congrats! I bet you can't wait for the wedding!'

'I wish you guys lots of luck!'

'Getting cold feet already? Hahahaha!'

Before we knew it, all the abruptly cheered-up countries _threw _themselves at our feet and stretched out their hands at both me and Antonio, shaking ours, patting our backs and making friendly jokes about marriage and gay people and England swimming naked in a pool of tea and _no_, I didn't get America's jokes either, but _god_ was he laughing his ass off.

As Antonio and I shared relieved glanced and hesitantly began to smile and give "no-comments" on the inevitable embarrassing questions that were instantly asked, Feliciano and Germany were quick to join the felicitation-party as well and in a matter of seconds, the entire European Union had congratulated the four of us.

…

Which was good, because instructing the scattered heap of nationalities to get back to their seats would probably take a _lot_ more time.

**xXx**

As pretty much _every single time _I thought something pessimistic, I was right: even with the help of Germany and Belgium, it took us the four of us almost half an hour to _fucking kick_ everybody back on their seats.

But when I look at this on the brighter side – _without_ the help of both Germany and Belgium and their Wursty Fists of Fury and Badass-Bra-Whistles of Doom, we wouldn't have succeeded to get some control over the countries at _all_, so I didn't complain. Much.

'A-alright!'

Belgium, who, when everybody was seated, was once again standing at the head of the table and blowing some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face, took a content look around the table and nodded.

'…it took us quite some time, but it looks like everybody's ready to hear our four lovely wedding candidates out – because I'm sure Roma and the rest has a lot more to tell us about their pretty marriages!~'

The whole room applauded excitedly – except for the Netherlands, who didn't _do_ applauding – let alone applauding _excitedly_ – and England, who couldn't applaud because he had folded his arms and was currently puffing his cheeks. Like a blowfish. A really _sassy_ one.

'Veee, hi everybody!~' I heard Feliciano open his yap somewhere next to me, and when I turned to watch him, I noticed he was sweeping his arms through the air like one would sweep a broom over a fucking _floor_.

…

Looked really weird, but whatever: I was way too happy that he was taking over from me to get irritated with him or his _swishing_ arms.

'What's new, Italy!' Prussia yelled at my brother with a curious smirk.

Feliciano laughed and wanted to answer him, but Germany interrupted him.

'Gilbert, hadn't I told you before I left to stay at home, lay low and watch some interesting documentaries about frying and cooking _wursts_ while I'm away? You know, to make yourself a bit more… um, well, _useful_? Remember?'

'_Yes_!' Prussia said after a loaded silence, awkwardly pointing one finger to his just as evil and Germanic brother. '…yes, you _did_ tell me that!'

'Then why didn't you do that? You could've learnt a lot from it. Like _cooking_.'

The albino-freak made a face.

'I didn't watch it, dear and bossy brother, because I'm too _**awesome**_ to spend the whole day inside the House watching boring documentaries about fucking _wursts _on a beautiful day like this!'

'It's raining.' Austria commented.

The red eyed idiot blinked. 'Oh.'

'Better correct that.'

'…what, like _now_?'

'Yes.'

'Okay…'

Prussia took a deep breath.

'Because I'm too _**awesome **_to spend the whole day inside the House watching boring documentaries about _fucking_ _wursts_ on a shitty day like this!'

He turned to Austria.

'Better?'

'Fair enough.' Austria nodded.

'YES!' Prussia grinned, but then his proud smile faded away again. '…wait, why the fuck am I even listening to an unfriendly nerd like you in the first place! Piss off, you dweeb!'

'No I _won't_.' Austria sourly said.

'Oh, one more thing about that sentence of yours, Prussia – you're actually not that awesome at all. Maybe you should go for _annoying_.' Austria's Hungarian girlfriend suggested.

Prussia nodded.

'Alright: because I'm too _**annoying **_to… wait a minute, that's _mean_, you bitch!'

'Don't blame _me_ – the truth _always_ is, you gullible _nobody_.' Hungary said with an offended frown. Then she gave an encouraging smile to Feliciano, because switching between frowns and smiles was wonderful and one of the many, _many_ horrifying things Hungary was good at.

'Don't mind the creepy Prussian zombie, dear – please continue!~ What did you want to say?'

'Invitations!~' Feliciano instantly sang, as if there hadn't been a stupid and pointless interruption that lasted at least 10 minutes I was never going to see again at all, and pulled – with a lot of difficulty – the big bag with invitations his way, like some weird, Santa Claus-like being, smiling so broadly you could fit a hanger in his mouth. Maybe even two.

'Invitations?' Lithuania repeated, cocking his head.

'Yes yes, invitations! Veee… for our weddings: my and Luddy's wedding, and Lovi and Big Brother-In-Law Toni's wedding!~ We have made them ourselves!~'

'Ah…' Lithuania got it and smiled. 'You even went out of your way to make us invitations… that's so nice of you!'

'Yes, but what's with the big bag?' Estonia commented, watching Feliciano struggle with the bag, '…how heavy _are _your invitations? Are they hacked out of massive plates of stone or something?'

'No, _of_ _course _not!' my slightly younger brother said, looking _shocked_ and staring at the Estonian wuss as if he had asked the stupidest thing ever, '…veee, why in the world would I hack invitations out of stone? Do you know how _hard _it is to get good plates of stone in this time of the year?'

'Okay, if you say so, but that bag… it just looks so big and heavy—'

'Well _of course _it's big and heavy – my ENTIRE _lunch_ is in there! You tell me how else I should have brought my lunch to this silly meeting, veee!'

'…you brought _lunch_?' I mixed myself into the frustrating conversation. '_Just_ lunch? But that bag looks like it's going to fucking burst any minute! What the fuck did you bring, our entire pasta-storage?'

'Nooo…' Feliciano started, his voice trailing off as he hastily pulled the bag further away from me, making the _fucking packs of macaroni and spaghetti _inside shake and rumble and make other typical, _obvious_ pasta-noises.

'So you plundered our storage room.' I concluded.

'Veee… u-um—'

'You _bastard_.'

'Um… um…'

'Please tell me you spared the tomatoes I had put in the refrigerator. _Please_.'

'…ohhh, I was already wondering what that red, sticky trail on the ground could be…' Feliciano muttered, thoughtfully watching the darkened bottom-part of the bag and the faint line of something wet on the floor that leaded to the bag.

I narrowed my eyes.

'_Your __**blood**__._'

At that, my slightly younger brother (who acted like he hadn't heard my dangerous voice and hadn't seen that popping vein on the side of my forehead at all) decided to quickly open the bag and take out an invitation – and the first one was an orange envelope.

'O-okay, veee… the first invitation is for… Latvia!'

The little blond boy, sitting somewhere near the end of the table, looked absolutely _mortified _as his nation's name was called out and let out a soft whimper, standing up as good as he could on his trembling legs.

But his pale face instantly relaxed a bit when he realized that getting an invitation was actually nothing to be really scared about. Probably. Especially now that Russia wasn't around to practice his infamous Latvia-shrinking techniques on him.

'O-oh, thank… thank you very much, mister Italy!' he stammered when Feliciano gave him the orange invitation – and he even began to chuckle and hop up and down in silent excitement when my overactive brother also pushed another colorful envelopes into his hands.

'M-mister Italy! Oh, you're too kind… Just… just how many parties are you going to have this weekend? And… and am I _really_ invited for all of them?'

Feliciano shrugged while shoving some invitations into Germany's hands with the message "spread them – the invitations, I mean, hahahahahaha veeeee".

'…naaah, it's just our wedding, really. Nothing more, veee – even though there _will_ be an after-party!~'

Latvia stared at the other, red envelope. 'B-but this invitation…'

'Is for Russia!~' Feliciano explained. 'Veee, be so sweet to give it to him from me, okay? He scares the shit out of me, haha!'

It was like somebody had put an Instant Ultra Fucking Ice Beam Laser on the little country, because Latvia immediately froze in all of his movements – he even became a bit blue in the process, too – and gasped for breath.

'Gah! Latvia!' Lithuania exclaimed, slapping his hands against his cheeks.

'LATVIAAAAA!' Estonia put up the volume.

'Pastaaaaaa!~' Feliciano added with a happy smile while showing everybody at the table a pack of pasta _what the __**fuck**__ Feliciano!_

'PRUSSIAAAAAA!' Prussia thunderously joined the other whalers, spreading his arms out wide like an albino-shaped opera-singer and cleverly jumped to the side to escape Hungary's ferocious frying pan of fiery fury.

…and, of course, that _other_ loud and obnoxious nation couldn't let the rest of the room wait for his passionate verbal explosion of nationalism _any_ longer after all the unnecessary shouting and pasta-promoting and took a long and deep breath.

The rest of the EU saw – and _gasped_.

'_GOD_ NO!'

'MON DIEU!'

'I'm _not _paying for any costs he's going to make.'

'DON'T DO IT, YOU TWIT!'

'QUICK! Put a burger in it!'

'Duck and cover! _Duck and cover!'_

While the rest of the EU-nations panicked and ran around the room like insane fleas would do in a fur with a dangerous hand with _very _sharp nails hanging just above them, I quickly snatched the bag of pasta and invitations away from my stupefied brother ('Veee, what's America doing, breathing in like that?').

After that, I took out a big, red envelope, dumped the bag (on Feliciano's toes, _**bwhahahahaha**_) and fucking _sprinted _to the tall nation in the middle of the room, who was now _completely _standing on top of the table, like an experimental new and loud model of Lady Liberty, who had his head arched back _so _far while inhaling, it was almost like he hadn't had a damn head at all.

And then he started:

'_**AAAAAAMERI—**_'

'H-_here_!'

I jumped on top of the table as well and _shoved_ the invitation with hisname on it in his mouth, because how else was I supposed to stop the rest of the deafening AMERICA that was about to break all the windows in the room.

'F-for you!' I explained to his surprised – and delightfully _silenced_ – expression as he took out the envelope (and the other nations rejoiced and made sounds of intense relief as they crawled from under the table/curtains/carpet/Germany again).

'Aw _shucks_, Romano!' America grinned, opening the envelope and giving me a hard _smash _on the back that almost send me flying off the table, '…now _this_ is cool of you, inviting your old buddy America to your wedding with the axe-wielding nutcase!'

I made a face and tried to check if he hadn't fucking_ BROKE _my spine.

'You already _were _invited, you douchebag – this is just the official invitation for it! And stop calling my dense bastard of a fiancé an axe-wielding nutcase, dammit!'

'Well thank you very much anyway.' America said with a nod, reading the invitation with glittering – what the hell? – eyes, '…god, it's been so long I've been to a party!'

'It's _not_ a par—'

'I'll bring some heavy _**techno-dance-country-metal-psycho-cornflakes-music **_-shit to pump up the beat!'

I blinked my eyes. 'You're going to do _wha_—'

'That'll boost the party! Oh god, it'll be _**great**_! And I can be the hero! The DJ, I mean. Hahahahaha! I'll inform my boss!'

And he jumped off the table.

…

Well.

Firstly, I wanted to either cry or scratch off the hideous wallpaper that had indirectly tormented me _way too long _to my liking just as much as America and his crazy ideas had done, but eventually, I did neither of that and just took a few calming breaths, climbed off the table and demanded Antonio – who had been observing me and the American with a huge, but repressed smile on his stupidly handsome face – to come help me with the damn invitations, _dammit_.

'Of course, my love.' Antonio said with a straight face, then giving me a sneaky, but hard _smack _on the butt before hurrying his ass to get the invitations spread – and to get _himself_ away from my blushing, _**deadly**_ discontent as fast as possible.

…

Oh well – at least the invitations were being given out now…

…

A-and that smack hadn't been _that_—

…

No, end of sentence.

**xXx**

With the help of Antonio – and a bit later of Feliciano and Germany as well – the invitations for the EU-nations were successfully hand out.

AT LAST.

Hell, I was even doing such a fucking good job, I even succeeded in tricking the Netherlands into taking the invitation for Luxembourg (who couldn't be there), just as I tricked England into taking the invitations for Ireland and Iceland, Denmark into taking the invitations for Norway, Lithuania into taking the invitations for Ukraine and Belarus (even though he _really_ didn't needed to be convinced to visit the latter's place) and lots and lots of other countries into taking the invitations for lots and lots of other countries.

Near the end of the afternoon, I took a look inside the now thinner bag (with the cold and dead corpses of my beloved tomatoes in it – _gaaaah_) and realized that Antonio, Feliciano, Germany and I only needed to visit Australia, New Zealand and Japan to deliver the last remaining invitations, and then we would be _finished_. With delivering invitation-shit, I mean.

Well, that was a relief.

I sighed and let the sack fall on the floor, looking around the (now admittedly _way_ more amusing) conference room.

The ambiance was great, I had to say. Everybody was having a good time, eating sweet snacks and drinking tiny drinks – apparently, Belgium had instructed the people working in the building to prepare something festive-ish for this occasion, since I all of a sudden saw waiters and waitresses walking around with milkshakes (ordered by America) and bonbons, waffles, strawberries, _mini-frikandellen_ and other kinds of cute and tasty fingerfood-thingies, which only added to the nice air.

Good. Very good. I allowed myself to smile a bit as I nonchalantly started walking around the room.

I loved the way everybody looked, so happy and cheerful, in spite of all the shitty stuff going on in Europe/the whole goddamn _world_. I knew I could probably easily walk around by myself for the rest of the day if I had that opportunity, because watching everybody interacting with each other in such a carefree matter… that was fucking _rare_.

Finland, Sweden and Denmark were drinking all the weirdly-colored drinks nobody else wanted ('Well, that's okay – more for us!' I heard Denmark respond to that, while trying to ignore Sweden's scary glare).

Hungary and Belgium were talking and laughing about something. Probably porn. I actually didn't want to know, really.

Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia were having an online-chat-session with somebody – Russia, judging from Latvia's shaking.

The Netherlands was sharing his love for clean gardens, tidy kitchens and not-spending money with Austria – and thus a very unlikely friendship was born.

Meanwhile, Bulgaria, Romania and Greece were in a heavy discussion with England about the yummy differences between scones and waffles, and America kept repeating all the things England said, in the same accent, just to bug him.

Really, even though I was walking around on my own now, I was having a pretty good time…

…although there was a certain, unsettling, unclear thought creeping inside of my mind, a thought that whispered I was forgetting something important…

But what? I frowned and scratched my head. Shit, just what was I forgetting? What could I possibly—

'Well _of course _I want to be your best man, _Antoine_!'

Instinctively, I looked the other way and saw Antonio, who was just being molested and/or embraced by France the Fuckface.

'Yes?' Antonio smiled happily. '…so you'll do it?'

France nodded and _kept on touching him, dammit_.

'Certainly! God, I'll be honored to play a part in your big day, my dear friend!~ Shall I even give you away? You know you want me to give you away to that pissed-off Italian bride of yours, _honhonhonhon_, I'll be like the father-figure you never had…'

Antonio chuckled and _let him touch him like the stupid oblivious piece of shit he was, dammit_.

'Ah, thank you very much, Francis, but no thanks – I think Lovi won't be pleased if I let you do that, ahahaha…'

'I could also give you a celebratory _quickie_…~'

Antonio smiled. 'Lovi would rip off your facial skin with his teeth.'

'Kinky little bitch.'

'You have no idea.'

Antonio and Francis grinned and snickered like two perverted perverts, only to quickly stop their stupid smirking when I _coincidentally_ passed them by and gave the Spaniard an angry shove against Austria, who spontaneously spilled his wine over the blouse of the Netherlands, who _grunted_ and cracked his knuckles.

'U-um…' Antonio said to the **doom**-**is**-**me**-face looming above him.

And then I walked further.

HA. That'll teach him.

…

…

S-still…

…

He wouldn't hurt him, right?

As soon as I was at a safe distance, I took a nervous look over my shoulder to check if the Dutchman wasn't _really_ initiating a fight with Antonio, but thankfully, Belgium and Hungary had come to them just in time to shush the Netherlands and push Antonio and France away from him.

_Oof_.

Reassured, I continued my walk and stumbled upon Germany, who was patting a very emotional Prussia on the back, his somewhat uncomfortable-looking eyes cast upwards, to the ceiling.

'Y-you're letting _me_ be your best man, Ludwig?' Prussia sniffed.

'Yes, brother. Of _course_. You're the only brother I have.'

'That's _**awesome**_…'

'Oh, well… it's no big deal…'

'But it IS a big deal! Don't worry though – I'll be the most _**awesome**_ best man you've ever had!'

'Just try not to do anything unnecessary.'

'I'll even prepare a nice _bouquet_ of tomatoes and pasta for little Italy!'

Germany sighed. '…sure, why not…'

'I won't let you down, Ludwig! Your big brother is gonna make your big day your _**biggest**_ day ever!'

'I know.' Germany smiled a bit. 'Thanks, Gilbert.'

I tried to make disgusted faces because of the display of Germanic brotherly affection going on just a few steps away from me, but I couldn't, since my eyes stung for some reason when I looked at them hugging like that, so I didn't – and suddenly wanted to talk to Feliciano.

Unfortunately, I couldn't talk to him when I finally spotted him, wandering around in big, uneven circles around the big table, because he was talking on the phone. With Japan, apparently, since every once in a while, I could hear him say stuff like like 'Naaaah, I'm sure you'll do fine, Kiku!' and 'Yeah, we could serve sushi!~' if he wasn't veee-ing.

…and after seeing Antonio, Germany and Feliciano chat with their best mans, I suddenly realized with a tiny shock what the whispering voice of earlier was trying to tell me all this time…

_I needed to inform my best man as well_.

…

Well, okay… I had made up my mind…

…

Here goes nothing…

I gathered some courage, tried to put a serious look on my face and stiffly walked over to the blonde woman standing beside a waiter, slurping from her milkshake. Apparently, Hungary had fluttered to some other nation, which was good – at least I was going to make a fool of myself in front of _two _women now.

R-right…

I gulped when I was approaching her and shyly tugged on the soft fabric of her bluish dress, already frowning and blushing like there was no fucking tomorrow.

'B-Belgium.'

Belgium, who hadn't seen me coming her way, gave me a curious and pleasantly-surprised look.

'Ah! Roma!~ Hi, sweetie!'

'Um… yeah, hi.'

'Isn't it amazing how quickly a heated summit can change into a bachelor-like party with just some snacks, beer, booze and milkshakes?~'

'…I guess.'

She smiled brightly and leaned a bit towards me, folding her arms on her back.

'…good work from your Big Sis, right? Are you enjoying yourself?~'

'Yes, um…' I mumbled, 'I… I have a question for you, Belgium… it's a really important one and… and I really don't know who else to ask, sadly enough, so…'

She was quiet for a second. Then, she _gasped_ and grabbed my face.

'_Really_, Roma? You want _me_?'

'_Myush_,' I stammered with a lot of difficulty, feeling relieved that she probably already knew what I wanted to ask her.

'But how's that _possible_?' she rattled.

'Mwai don't nowww—'

'Well, I think you're very cute, Roma, but you know it's impossible for me to marry you. You already have _Antonie_!'

I stared at her.

'…_whus_?'

'Yes, yes!' Belgium nodded, a big frown forming on her forehead. '…you're very sweet and very manly, sweetie, and Big Sis loves you very much, but not in _that_ way. Besides, I don't think you are allowed to marry more than one person on this continent… and oh, _Antonie_ would get so jealous whenever it was my turn to have you for the night…~'

'N-no, no!' I managed to grab her wrists and pull them off my face, '…I'm not asking you to fucking marry me, I'm not—'

I stopped shouting when I saw the teasing cat-smile on her face growing a little bit bigger.

'_Gotcha_.~'

'You _bitch_.' I growled, loosening my grip.

'That's not very nice.' She puffed her cheeks and flicked my nose. 'Shame on you, Roma! You shouldn't talk like that to your wonderful Big Sis.'

'You were fucking sexually harassing me!'

'Oh! I would _never _do that (in plain sight of _Antonie_)!'

'I HEARD THAT!'

Belgium chuckled some more and held up her hands.

'Just kidding, sweetie, just kidding! Ah, can't I make a joke every once in a while?'

'Not if you're spending way too much free time with Hungary!'

'But Lizzie is such a _wonderful_ girl!~'

'No, she's a _creep _– and if you keep on talking like that, I'll ask someone else to be my best man!'

'B-best man?' Belgium's eyes grew in size and intensity.

'Y-yes!' I huffed, looking away from her.

'You want _me _to be your best man, Romano?'

'W-well… um…'

I dragged my feet over the ground and studied the back of Greece's head, who was standing close by.

'…it's just that… um… I-I don't have a lot of good friends… hell, the only friends I have are either estranged family-members of me, getting married at the same time as me or _fucking_ me…'

Belgium clacked het tongue. 'Language, Roma.'

'…fine, _sharing the bed _with me, so… s-so the only person I could think of who… who has the same qualities of somebody who I would call a good friend, is… is _you_, Belgium…'

I swallowed and slowly raised my head to look her in the eyes.

'…I-I mean, let's face it… we're practically like family anyway… w-why else would I feel the same feelings for you as I would feel for a sister…'

Belgium got tears in her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her mouth.

'R-Roma…'

Then, almost out of nowhere, a hand landed on my shoulder.

'What's going on here? Why is Femke crying?'

I jolted my head to the side and blushed when I saw Antonio's curious and worried facial expression.

'Oh, it's… it's nothing!' Belgium stammered, rubbing in her eyes, '…Roma only just confessed his eternal love for me!~'

'H-_hey_!' I nagged, alarmed.

'_Really _now! But that's _great_!' Antonio said, smiling knowingly and _proudly_ at me before I could stutter something in protest.

'He wants me to be his best man!' Belgium continued, her voice high and almost breaking, '…i-isn't that just _lovely!_ O-oh god, I'm so happy! Thank you, Romano! Thank you so much!'

'No, thank _you_,' I said, feeling all heroic and stuff, and made a strangled noise when the blonde Belgian female abruptly wrapped her arms around me and pressed me against her chest.

'Thank you! Thank you! I'm so glad I can mean something for you two on your wedding day! Thank you!'

'Yur boobs r klling mh!' I tried and failed to exclaim, flailing my arms.

'What's he saying?' Belgium asked.

'He says he loves you very much and that you should hug him a little bit more.' Antonio smiled.

'WHAT!' I succeeded to snarl at him – but was then pushed back into Belgium's bouncy breasts once again, who kept on sobbing and hugging and thanking me until I saw stars and passed out.

…

Yes, I actually passed out.

_So_?

Don't judge me, I'm not used to having so much smothering female all over me, dammit!

**xXx**

Soon after asking Belgium to be my best (wo)man, having a near-death experience and giving Antonio a kick to the shins for being such a mean bastard (even though he said he was really sorry for almost letting me die), the conference _finally _came to an end, and everybody headed for home.

…except for me, Antonio and those other two losers who were going to get married, because we still needed to hand over the last invitations to Australia, New Zealand and Japan.

Which would be a bit difficult to do on one day if we would go to all those countries together, so we agreed to divide the invitations – with the help of the democratic use of… straws.

Since there isn't _anything_ in the world that's more democratic than pulling straws.

…

Anyway, the person with the longest straw could go home, and the rest was fucked.

So we played the game – and the straw-game determined that Germany, Feliciano and Antonio were fucked: Germany would go give the invitation to New Zealand, Feliciano would go to Japan and Antonio would head over to Australia.

…

And yes, that meant that I could go straight back to Spain and relax, or at least _attempt _to relax, because _Hungary_.

Just _Hungary_.

She was going to Spain with me, after all, so I expected lots of weird- and silliness.

I was wrong, however, because Hungary asked me right after I had asked _her_ if it was alright if we went back to Antonio's House, if I would mind it if she didn't come with me, but spend the night at Austria's place instead.

And she was flushing in a lot of different kinds of red when she asked me this.

…

Naturally, I couldn't stop myself from grinning and wished her and her boorish piano-player lots of fun and sex, after which I jumped in the car, put on some hard music and drove back to Madrid while smirking and head-banging to sheepish songs like _Relax – Take It Easy_ from Mika – and I didn't even fucking _**care **_I was enjoying the faggish fag-songs, because YES, I had the whole fucking night – and Antonio's entire House – for my OWN!

BOO-YEAH!

Time for some nice, well-deserved alone-time!

**XxX**

But…

…

…well, even though I was really enjoying my alone time to the _max_, like shamelessly taking a huge slice of that chocolate cake in Antonio's refrigerator he had baked a couple of days ago, running around the House while talking to myself and commenting on all the art in Antonio's hallways, feeling bad about taking some cake – and taking some more cake to cheer myself up again, sliding off the stairs (shut up – you _know _it's wonderful to do that) and taking a long, hot bubble-bath since even mighty and manly men like me could go for a gayish bath with an even gayer rubber duck sometimes, I…

…

…began to feel like I had enough of my alone-time.

And I had barely been two, three hours home alone.

And Antonio's stupid duck wasn't good company.

…

Man, I sucked at being alone… no, wait, I sucked at _wanting _to be alone.

…

When would the rest come back?

I was thinking that thought over and over again after I had pulled myself out of the bathtub and put my (new) PJ's on, when suddenly, to my silent _delight_, the sound of a door being unlocked echoed through the hallway downstairs.

The familiar talking voices of Feliciano, Germany and – heart fluttered – Antonio filled the once so pleasantly but unnaturally quiet air of Antonio's House as they walked up the stairs and I heaved a sigh. Sounds like I wasn't home alone anymore.

Thank _god._

I briskly opened the door of the bathroom – a different one than the bathroom in Antonio's room, for your information – and smashed the steam _straight _into the faces of Antonio and the rest.

'Hi! W-welcome back!' I said, _way too _happily, mostly focusing my attention on the second-to-tallest nation of the three and keeping myself from demanding a hug.

While Antonio blushed and greeted me just as happily, Feliciano and Germany's greetings were a bit less enthusiastic, since they were very tired and wanted to go to sleep as fast as possible – and so, they quickly retreated themselves in their bedroom, leaving me and Antonio all by ourselves, which was wonderful.

'So…' Antonio started, rubbing his aching neck, '…you just came out of bath?'

'Yes!' I said, _again _with that happy voice – god, I bet my eyes were fucking _sparkling _as I stared at the tired Spaniard.

He chuckled. 'I thought you said taking baths is for fags, Lovino.'

'It is! And I'm a _huge_ fag!' I wanted to say, but decided to just shrug and sheepishly smile instead.

'Ah, I think I'll go take a bath now as well…' Antonio mused.

'Okay, then I'll go… downstairs.' I hastily said.

He gave me a confused look. 'It's almost midnight, Lovi… you're not going to bed yet?'

'No – and neither are you.' I finally knew how to frown again and so, I frowned, folding my arms.

'Ohh? What are you up to?~' Antonio smiled, brushing a few forgotten drops of water out of my face.

'Nothing. I… I just think I'm going to sit in the garden for a bit, and… well, I want you to join me, after you've taken a bath.'

'Okay.' He nodded obediently and pressed a kiss on my wet forehead. '…then I'll come down in a minute, alright? You just put on the lights in the garden and the veranda.'

'Okay!' I chirped, and then swore under my breath for thatdamn_ voice _of mine.

I saw Antonio was enjoying every single second of my cutesy state of mind and wanted to say something embarrassing about it, but he had _just _enough braincells in his possession to know it wouldn't be smart to push his luck, and so, he gave me a broad smile instead.

'Love you!~'

I nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes! Love you too!'

FUCK.

Antonio blushed and laughed excitedly, but didn't dare to say anything, scared to break this weird spell. And I… well, I could only cough and look away from him with the biggest blush on my damn face since… since…

…yesterday, probably.

'Th-then I'll just go downstairs…' I murmured, feeling pretty flustered, and stormed off the stairs before he could even think about doing something to stop me.

**xXx**

The strange, happy feeling, that flushed through my veins like some crazy, love-infected drug, didn't change or ebb away after I had turned on the lights of the garden and installed myself in the huge yellow hammock on the veranda.

I didn't know what it was, this feeling. The sudden realization that he was home again, that _Antonio_ was home again, home again to be my lover and friend and whatever the fuck he is to me, had apparently struck me pretty hard.

Like a hit from a fly-swatter. _Flap_, flat in the face.

But in a good way.

…

So now, here I was, sitting/lying in a clumsily hanged-up hammock, trying to keep my balance while wrapping myself with a big, fluffy blanket I had taken with me from inside since it turned out to be colder outside than I had expected, anxiously waiting for Antonio to come outside as well.

…

…maybe it was because Hungary wasn't around now. Maybe it was because Feliciano and Germany were nowhere in sight, either.

Maybe… maybe _that_ was why I felt like acting like a love-struck moron. And even _liking _it, too.

I bit my lip and thought about it a bit longer, but was effectively distracted from the weird theories that flew through my head when I heard the door to the garden was opened again – and almost fell out of the hammock when I turned myself to watch who was coming.

Immediately, the most _sickening_ waterballoon filled with clouds, hearts, sugary pokes of electricity mixed with love and something with kittens must have been splashed into my face, because the goddamn _adoration _was fucking _dripping off_ _me _when Antonio closed the door behind him and came to me.

'There you are.' I stupidly remarked.

'Yes. Here I am.' Antonio gave me a just as stupid smile.

'How was your bath?'

'Um… watery.'

I chuckled – what the _fuck_, I even allowed myself to _laugh_ at his lame joke – and shook my head.

'N-no, how _was _it?'

Antonio ran a hand though his wet hair.

'Good, I guess? Warm. Pleasant. Having two baths on one day really makes your day!~'

'That's nice.'

'Yes!'

'C-come sit with me.'

I moved myself backwards and shyly patted the now open space in-between my legs.

He cocked his head. 'Really? Sit with you in the hammock? You think that thing will hold the both of us, Lovi?'

'Only one way to find out. N-now just come here, come here…' I said – and started making awkward gestures involving opening and closing hands, my arms stretched out to the lingering Spaniard just a few meters away from me, like an unreachable present.

A small, delighted moan escaped from Antonio's lips as he quickly hurried himself to the hammock.

'God, maybe I shouldn't be saying this,' he started, clumsily climbing into the – not as big as I thought – hammock and happily accepting my arms that instantly winded themselves around him to steady his wobbly movements, '…maybe I really, _really _shouldn't be saying this, but Lovino, you're being so _cute _now!~'

'S-shut up…' I muttered, pressing my burning face against his moist back while squeezing him tightly, lovingly, feeling incredibly happy to have him here with me.

'You missed me, didn't you?~' I heard him say, a small chuckle hidden in his voice.

'Yes, you bastard – I-I fucking missed you.' I muffled my words in his shirt.

'I was only away for a few hours, though.'

'Doesn't matter. I still missed you. That's what you get from being with you almost every single day, dammit.'

'I like it.' Antonio leaned back into my embrace and brushed his fingertips over my arms, sighing. '…you missing me, I mean. It must mean that you love me, right?~'

'I-I'm not even going to answer that.' I huffed, nuzzling the back of his head – and quickly pulled back again, shivering.

'…the fuck, your hair is _soaked_, dammit!'

He laughed weakly – he was probably getting sleepy.

'Ah, yes… well… the thing is… I didn't want to let you wait for me too long, _especially _not now you're in such a generous mood…'

'So you just… hopped out of bath without drying yourself off and stepped outside, right into the pretty _cold_ autumn-air, completely oblivious for the fact that every idiot who does _just_ that catches a cold?'

'Hmm, I thought idiots couldn't catch colds…'

'That's bullcrap – you have them all the time, dammit.'

'It IS kind of chilly…'

'I fucking knew it…' I grumbled, sat up a bit more, grabbed the sides of the blanket and… a-and just wrapped it around both him and me some more, even tucking us in so that we looked like two very uncomfortably packed pair of Twix, only… m-more comfortable.

Antonio laughed again, cuddling closer to me.

'Ah, you take such good care of me, sweetie… I couldn't ask for a better fiancé…'

That made me quiet for a moment.

'It's… it's almost the big day, right?' I softly said, rubbing my thumb over his arm.

'Yes – nervous?'

Antonio glanced at me, his green eyes blinking amusedly.

'Yes… and no.'

'Yes and no… that's kind of vague…'

'Well, I'm not nervous for spending the rest of my life with you because… I'm pretty much already doing that already anyway. I'm just nervous for the wedding _itself_.'

'Think that many things will go wrong?'

'I don't think that – I fucking _know _things will go wrong. But not-knowing _what _will go wrong… _that's_ what's bothering me.'

'Don't worry yourself about it, my love – we still have a few days ahead of us.'

'Hmm.'

'…by the way, Lovi… may I compliment you?'

'C-compliment me?' I stared at him, surprised, '…for what? What did I do?'

Antonio kept on staring at me, now by leaning his head back so that his smile looked more like a sad face.

'You've become a lot more confident the last couple of days, you know.'

'I have?' I said, frowning.

'You have.' Antonio nodded. '…you're not afraid anymore to be dominant and take over control.'

My frown became a bit less… wrinkled, and I gnawed on my lower lip again.

'That's… true, I guess…'

'How come?'

I shrugged, pressing my knees against his some more.

'I think I learnt that being dominant really isn't hard when… when the other allows you to be dominant…'

'It's just like that.' Antonio smiled. '…ah, I know I can become quite dominant sometimes, but… I was only able to do that because you _let _me. Because you allow me to… take over control… no, there must be a nicer way to call it…'

'I-I allow you to _spoil_ me.' I heard myself say.

'Spoiling… yes, that's a better way to put it. I like to spoil you. I really, _really _like to spoil you. In fact… I suddenly feel like spoiling you a bit.'

'Th-that's nice.'

'Well, then…'

Antonio squirmed a bit in my arms, until he was facing me, his fond smile and affectionate eyes hanging just above me, but really _just_, since moving was pretty damn difficult when being wrapped up together like this.

My arms abruptly got trapped between our chests, but it felt warm and safe, so I didn't mind it.

'See how easy it is?'

Antonio kissed my face and I felt his arms crawling behind me.

'…ah, it's so easy, Lovi… being dominant is a _breeze _if you can feel that's what the other wants…'

'Should have told me that earlier.' I mumbled, scowling.

'Ha. And miss you stumbling around while trying to find me – trying to find _yourself_? Never.' He resolutely shook his head.

'You didn't like it, though. Me looking around for answers on my own.'

'True, but… I can't determine your development, sweetie… that's all up to yourself.'

'I suppose…' I yawned.

Antonio noticed – and yawned as well.

'Shall we sleep, Lovi?'

'…here?' I asked.

'Yes.'

'I don't know, it's pretty cold…'

'You want to hear Feli and Germany getting it on again, then?'

I snorted.

'…goodnight, Antonio.'

He chuckled and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, lowering himself on me.

'Goodnight, Lovi…'


	59. Heart Upside Down

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: __I__'__d __like __to __take __this __opportunity __to __say __sorry __for __the __enormous __chapter __of __last __week. __I __mean, __it __had __over __9,000 __words. __IT __WAS __OVER __NINE __THOUSAND! _*slapped for making lame reference*  
_Every single time I promise myself to make shorter chapters, and every single time, I end up making it even longer than planned. I don't the hell know what I'm doing, but apparently, it's only making me want to write more and more. Pfffrrt. No wonder I'm always tired!  
_

_A/n3: __It__'__s __getting __more __confronting __with __the __week __for __me __to __write __about __current __happenings __on __my __continent. __Right __now, __it__'__s __so __awful __that __if __I __had __**really **__wanted __to __write __a __reality-based __Hetalia-fanfic, __Spain, __Greece __and __the __Italies __would __be __kicking __the __bucket __like __crazy. __It __really __is __that __bad __in __the __Southern __part __of __Europe. __And __in __case __you __were __wondering, __yes, __Europe __is __indeed __having __yet __another __clinch __with __Greece__, __and __apparently, __they __are __thinking about__chucking __Greece __out __of __the __Euro-zone. __And __if __Spain, __Italy __and __Portugal __don__'__t __watch __it, __they__'__ll __follow. __Ugh._*facepalms* _So __much __madness. __It__'__s __never __going __to __end, __is __it?_

_A/n4: Wow. Moodswingy-A/n's are moodswingy. Sorry for that. Also, yes, I've deleted A/n2, because it was too whiny. Can't believe the things I write sometimes. Tssk._ *rolls eyes* I_ should be spanked._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LIX:

_**Your Heart Upside Down  
**__**(Death Letters)**_

Aaaaand before I knew it, it already was…

**xXx Days before the Wedding xXx  
**_**Tuesday**_

In spite of having spend the entire night outside, wrapped up in a blanket like an oversized fluffy cocoon and with a fairly heavy and _lively_ (god, I wish Antonio didn't move around so much in his sleep, dammit) sleeping Spaniard squishing me, I had actually slept pretty good.

It wasn't a surprise, though. I always liked to sleep with the windows open, so getting me to sleep outside probably caused my delighted system to shut down and refresh completely. I mean, _damn_, I must have been in some sort of coma, because apparently, it had rained last night, and I hadn't woke up even _once_.

Fucking WITCHCRAFT.

And oh, neither had Antonio, because whenever that man slept, he _**slept**_. Through thunderstorms, tantrums and world wars – you call it, and I'll assure you that it hadn't ever woke him up. Hell, I once was pretty damn horny in the morning and thought it would be nice to have a quick fuck with Antonio, so I wanted to wake him up by having sneaky sex with him.

Which indeed was a very hot and sexy idea and not slightly disturbing whatsoever.

But…

…

…yeah, he never woke up.

…

It still was _very_ nice, though.

And things even got _nicer _when I told him about it after he had woke up: god, he was _shocked_ and wouldn't let me go off the bed before he had properly and _damn __so __fucking __wonderfully_ "apologized" to me for sleeping through sex.

…

A-anyway, what I'm trying to say is…

Having the ability to sleep well is fantastic, of course, and man, I'd definitely give the _world_ to have an ability like that, but… it's nota really _handy_ quality to have – especially not when you're lying on top of your already awakened fiancé who really really _really _needs to pee.

Seriously. I could fucking piss the bricks out of Antonio's House if I wanted to. Probably the revenge of all the milkshakes I drank last night – I knewI shouldn't have picked the banana-flavored one, I _knew_ it, bananas always had a terrible effect on my intestinal flora and _I __don__'__t __fucking __care __how __disgusting __that __sounded_, dammit.

I should probably get up. Yes, I should get up and fling Antonio off me like a way too suffocating bed sheet, b-but… but he was _sleeping __so __damn __adorably_…

Oh. Yes. Antonio was a fucking _pro _at sleeping cutely. Breathing in and out softly against my chest, his hands clutching the fabric of the back of my PJ's, his warm thighs (god, those _thighs __gah __I __want __to __touch/bite/lick __them_) resting in-between my legs…

…

_Fuck_ – that's right, my legs were _spread_! No wonder I had to pee, that bastard was pushing his fat legs down on my bladder!

'A-Antonio! Wake up, wake up, dammit!' I stammered, wringing my arms away from our connected chests to repeatedly pull his hair.

'Whyyyyyy…' Antonio responded with a long, low moan, slowly nuzzling my chest before he looked up at me, his green eyes dazed and drowsy. And a bit red, too.

'I-I need to go! T-to the bathroom!' I hissed, trying to push him further off me, '…c-come on, get off me, get off me before I'll fucking burst, dammit!'

'Ah, only if you come back to me straight after, sweetie…' Antonio instructed with a lazy smile, bit by bit releasing his grip on me, '…we don't know how much time we've left before Hungary comes out to drag us to some ancient church, after all… we have to _cherish_ these carefree moments…'

'Yes yes, I promise I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise!' I snarled.

'Really?~'

'YES, dammit, REALLY!'

'You also promise to be your cute self when you come back, like you were last night?~'

'Oh GOD, I promise you EVERYTHING if you just GET OFF MY FUCKING BLAD—what?'

I stopped my shouting and attempts to wiggle myself free and stared at the chuckling Spaniard leaning on my chest.

'You heard me, Lovi…~'

'What the hell?' I snapped at him, after his question had _really_ hit the main center of my brain, '…y-you damn bastard, I-I can't be cute on fucking _command_!'

Antonio smiled and lifted his face up, placing a small peck on my chin.

'Ah… but you don't have to be cute on demand – I think you're perfectly able to be cute on your own, sweetie!~ You just need to get into the right mood. And I'll help you with that.'

'What, so you think you can _talk_ me into acting _cute_?' I scoffed, smirking.

'I _know _I can talk you into acting cute.' Antonio nodded. '_Trust_ me on this one.'

'Motherfucking _bullshit_.'

'I missed you a lot last night…~'

'Not working. Now get off before I'll piss you off.'

Antonio ignored my remark. 'While I was talking with Australia and watching the setting sun with him, all I could think about was how wonderful it would be to watch all the orangeness around me it with _you_, while holding your hand and whispering all my love and adoration for you into your ear…~'

'…n-not working.' I said – but my voice sounded less sure this time.

'And _oh_, how much I enjoyed sitting in the hammock with you last night, my love… how much I enjoyed feeling your arms around me, how much I enjoyed the shy cuddling, how much I enjoyed your soft laughing and even softer touches…'

Antonio sighed and got up a bit to press a warm, loving kiss on my mouth.

'…m-mhwm… n-n-not fucking working, dammit…' I stammered, as soon as he released my lips.

'…it was such a shame we both fell asleep so soon, though… I had loved us to hug and kiss and hold each other some more, while talking about _that_ _one_ church Hungary and I managed to reserve for our wedding…'

I tried to look at him. 'W-what church?'

'Well, it's not really a church – it's actually more of a basilica. But it's meant to be a church. Eventually. In the future.'

At first, I could only feel the groaning and aching pressure of my poor, full bladder that was only increasing, and wanted to handwave Antonio's weird explanation away, after which I would handwave… no, _kick_ _**him**_ away.

But then his words, together with the awaiting, excited glint in his eyes, struck me like a rolling thunderbolt.

'…a-are you talking about… S-_Sagrada __Família_? That… that wonderful, big church in Barcelona? The one that they started building in 1882, that's still not finished after all these years? T-that… that fantastic piece of… _Catalonian_ _Modernism_?'

'We got it for you, my love.' Antonio voice was tender and he smiled fondly at me. '…it took me and Hungary a lot of time last week to convince the current builders to stop the workings on the basilica for a couple of days, but with a lot of help from my boss and the (in this case ironically convenient) crisis that's going on, we still managed to reserve it for our wedding – it's meant to be finished somewhere in 2028 or later anyway, so a few days more or less probably don't matter that much…'

'A-Antonio…' I put a hand on my opened mouth, too surprised and overwhelmed to put my emotions in words – or _sounds_, for all that matters.

Antonio continued to smile and carefully caressed my warm, reddening cheeks.

'Ah, I know very well it's not the little chapel with the white stones and bricks that you described in your sketchbook, but… well, big weddings need big churches, right? Especially when there are at least two artistic Italians involved. So… I hope you're happy with the church, sweetie.'

'If I'm _happy _with it?' I blabbered to the Spaniard while the corners of my mouth started to move up faster than I wanted them to, '…y-you got me the fucking _Sagrada __Família_, the most _astounding_ piece of Spanish architecture,and you _still_ ask me if I'm _happy _with it?'

Antonio got a bit nervous. 'You aren't?'

'I _am_, you stupid, s-sweet _idiot_!' I started to laugh – probably nerves playing up, or I was going crazy, or just really, _really_ happy, or all the above put together to an insane Italian cakemix or whatever – and fucking _threw _my arms around his neck, squeezing his face against my chest as I just kept on smiling and squirming from the wonderfulness of it all.

'I-it's great, dammit, it's motherfucking _great_!'

'Y-yeah?' Antonio lifted his head from my chest a bit and beamed a blushing smile at me.

'Yes, definitely!' I nodded wildly, brushing some hair from his forehead to press a firm kiss on it, '…definitely, oh god, definitely… I mean… just what sane man or woman _wouldn__'__t _want to marry in the _Sagrada __Família_?'

'Um, a sane man or woman that thinks it might be too dangerous because the church isn't finished yet?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Don't ruin the atmosphere now, Antonio.'

He gasped and attempted to shake his head.

'Oh no, I certainly won't do that! Not now that you've become _this_cute again…'

I blinked and wanted to comment on that, but right then, Antonio managed to slowly crawl up, leaning on his elbows as he took my face in his hands, stroking my feverishly warm cheeks – and the faint smile still plastered on my face – with experimental touches.

'Ah… I _told _you I could encourage you to be cute and… god, just _look _at yourself, sweetie – you're so adorable, I could hug you forever!~'

'N-no you can't.' I lamely countered in a small voice, unable to look away from his way too excited and mesmerized face.

'But I think I _can_, Lovi…'

Antonio moved himself even closer to me and started to place short, gentle kisses on my face, purposely missing my lips.

'…and I _think_,' he whispered near my ear, making me shiver, '…I _think _you should work with me and wind those _divine _legs of yours around me… come on, you can do it…'

One of his hands left my face and disappeared underneath the blanket – and I gave a startled yelp of surprise when his cold fingers teasingly traced over a partly naked leg of mine – and then they _also_ suddenly crept under my shirt, over my lower belly.

'H-holy _shit_, s-stop that, you fucking asshole!' I exclaimed.

Antonio chuckled. 'What is it? Too much _seduction_ for you, hmmm?~'

'No – too much _pressure_ for my damn _bladder_!' I hissed with a red face, pushing his hand away.

He stared at me. 'Oh. I forgot about that.'

'Well _I _didn't! Get off me!'

Antonio pouted, but complied and crawled off me as good as he could.

I noticed his disappointment – and made a soft, grumbling noise as I sat up and weakly tried to stab his chest with my finger.

'…n-now. I'll be back in a second, so… don't fucking go anywhere. Okay? I-I still need to… th-_thank_ you.'

'Okay!~' He lightened up immediately – and I swear, if he hadn't been Antonio, that unhealthy moodswing would have scared the _shit_ out of me – and watched me stepping out of the hammock like a damn _dog _would watch his owner getting up from the couch, ready to pouch him with all the delight he had inside of him.

I wanted to leave the hammock with the grace and elegance of a… say… _swan_ (you know, in slow-motion, moving like a fucking untouchable and unreachable being of radiant _pureness_, giving Antonio the opportunity to stare and drool at my slow but eternally handsome self like a fan would stare and drool at her favorite actor)…

…but when one of my feet got caught up in the blanket and caused me to stumble and lurch all over the wooden floor of the veranda while cursing and flailing my arms around like a complete idiot, I think I kind of missed my goal. A bit.

'Shit! _Fuck_!' I snarled, quickly standing up – and just as quickly _almost_ falling down again because _damn_ that floor was slippery, but thank god I was good at weirdly flinging myself to the safe, dry doormat, although the movement now probably made me look more like a wet newspaper being thrown than a stylish swan landing on a mystical lake (shut up, the mind reels, dammit)…

Still, I got there safe and sound and that was _good_. I mean, it didn't even hurt _that _bad when I smashed my face against the door and bumped my head to the iron and unforgiving doorknob. Actually, it didn't hurt at all.

'Ouch! _Ow_, you fucking son of a _bitch_! Look what you did to my head! I hope you'll burn in _hell_!'

…

Anyway…

Antonio, who was still in the hammock, lying on his stomach, pursed his lips and tried to muffle the quiet chuckles that still managed to come out in short, smothered puffs of air.

'Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that's _classy_, Antonio, really classy.' I nodded sourly, casually rubbing the painful side of my head.

'I-I'm sorry, you were just so _funny_, Lovi!' Antonio grinned, sheepishly.

'Keep on laughing like that and I'll fucking show you _funny _when I return. With my _fists_. And that horrible painting about asses that hangs in the hallway. Salvador or no Salvador, that shit's going _down_.'

'Just go to the bathroom already, Lovi, before you catch a cold. I can see from here you are freezing.'

Antonio gave me a friendly smile and lay himself down on the hammock, winking at me.

'…but don't worry – I'll gladly warm you up again when you come back...'

I made an angry, yet slightly flushed face at him and huffed, clenching my legs together really tightly for a second before turning around and getting my ass in the House as fast as I could because I _really_ _had __to __go_.

But I would get back at him for laughing at me. I would get my revenge – and then I would thank him for arranging the _Sagrada __Família _as well.

…

Could be tricky.

…

Oh well, first things first – _toilet_.

Now where's the nearest fucking bathroom in this damn maze of a House of his, dammit…

**xXx**

Fortunately/miraculously, I got into the bathroom in time and did what I should have done a lot earlier.

Peeing.

…

_Ohgodsofucking__**fantasticfinally**_!

And then I washed my hands.

And then I returned to the veranda.

…

I can see your amazement, but there actually really isn't much to tell you about my visit to the bathroom, except that it was wonderful and you should all try it once.

…

Right. Moving on…

**XxX**

When I came back to the veranda, I noticed Antonio was now sitting in the unstable hammock, his legs swinging back and forth a bit.

He instantly flashed a big, bright smile at me as I appeared and beckoned me to come closer, which I did. I walked towards him a lot more carefully though, since I didn't feel like letting him enjoy another hilarious episode of _Lovino __VS. __Slippery __Fucking __Floor_ – and I _certainly _didn't feel like _losing_ again, either.

'Well _done_, Lovi!' Antonio joked when I finally stood in front of him, and put his hands on my hips, attempting to turn me around so he could pull me on his lap, but I wouldn't let him – and roughly swat his hands off me with a grunt, straddling him face-to-face instead.

The chuckling Spaniard now stopped chuckling and spread his eyes wide open, barely responding when I snickered, wrapped my legs around his back and let my arms dangle on his shoulders, shamelessly pressing myself against him in the most sensual way I could muster _without _sliding off his lap.

'You know,' I muttered, raising one eyebrow as my breath tickled his neck and face and my hands sharply tugged some curly strands of hair of his, '…I could be a bastard and force you let me sit your lap like this, without giving you my permission or even a fucking _chance _to kiss or hold me…'

Antonio's slightly opened mouth closed and he swallowed, smiling nevertheless, his large hands grabbing the back of my PJ's in a weird, desperate attempt to keep me where I was.

'Please don't do that to me. You never know when Hungary might return. And you know we won't have another opportunity to be close like this again for the rest of the week. So… you… you should really let me kiss and hold you.'

'I don't know…' I mused, "accidentally" rolling my hips a bit, '…you know, I had wanted to thank you for what you did for me – reserving the _Sagrada __Família_ as our church and all – but I _really_ didn't like it when you started laughing at me when I fell a little while ago.'

'I'm sorry. So sorry.' Antonio's hands started to move up- and downwards in slow, greedy circles. The soft and lazy movements turned me on a lot more than I expected, but I tried to hide it, even though I heard my way of breathing was quickening.

I licked my lips and playfully bit my now moist lower lip – and I knew how much that could arouse him.

'Hmmm… but that clash with the doorknob was quite painful, Antonio. I wonder if a simple "sorry" is enough for me to forgive you and forget the pain…'

'Then allow me to ease away the pain differently.'

He suddenly pushed my upper body closer to him and before I could do anything to pull away and carry on with my little hard-to-get-act, his hands were gently caressing the painful bump on my head and his lips, teeth and tongue were _not_-so-gently attacking the curve of my neck, nipping and licking and biting my skin like a hungry beast.

'A-_ah_… mmmnnh…'

I closed my eyes and rolled my head to the side, giving him more access to my neck, clenching his shoulder tightly while my free hand kept on pulling his hair.

'You're so _irresistible_, sweetie… so very irresistible… god, you drive me crazy in the best ways possible…' Antonio growled, lovingly, continuing to kiss and stroke and touch me to his heart's content as his lowest hand on my back started to lower itself even more.

'Antonio…' I said warningly, but it sounded more like a long, deep sigh – and it was brutally cut of when he all of a sudden smashed our lips together. But I had waited for it, had _wanted_it to happen and responded right away, taking his—

_Buzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzz._

…

…and that was a _fucking __phone_.

It wasn't actually ringing, but it was _still_ making annoying, vibrating sounds – and it was still the unmistakable noise of a phone, somewhere inside the House, close to the door, wanting to be picked up.

Antonio groaned softly against my lips and tried to distract me from the sound by slipping his hands into my pants, but it was no use – I had heard it and I was effectively caught off guard.

'You… you should answer that.' I mumbled, relaxing my grip on his shoulders and moving a hand behind me to abruptly _jerk _those adventurous fingers away from my backside.

'I don't want to,' Antonio panted with a frown, '…I really, really don't want to. Let's just pretend we don't hear it. Let's make this morning last a bit longer. Okay?'

'No – duty calls.' I said in all seriousness, trying to hide the _sorrowful_ tone in my voice, and got off his lap before he could complain about it, hurrying myself back inside the House to snatch Antonio's red cell phone off the small cabinet next to the door.

'Alright – who the _fuck_ is this?' I started angrily, fixing my pants and shirt a bit with my other hand.

'_Oh __my. __Do __you __always __answer __phone__calls __like __that, __Romano?__' _a light, slightly cranky female voice asked me.

I blinked. 'Hungary? That you?'

'How was your fuck, you crazy bitch,' I wanted to say – but in the end decided I liked my life too much after all.

'_Yes – it's me!~ Good morning, dear! Did I interrupt something?'_

I moved a bit backwards, so I could look outside the opened door. I could see Antonio getting off the hammock with a long, frustrated face.

'Yes, you interrupted.' I then carried on, huffing. 'You interrupted a _lot_.'

'_Ohh? What were you doing then?~'_

'None of your business.'

'_Aww, come on, you can tell me!~'_

I snorted. 'Definitely _not_.'

'_Please?'_

'_God _no!'

A deep sigh. _'__So __you__'__re __really __not __going __to __tell __me __you __were __messing __around __with __Spain?__'_

'Damn _straight _I'm not telling you that!' I resolutely said.

'_And you're also not telling me he was feeling you up?'_

'Hell, I'm not even telling you he was groping my ass already!'

'_And what about kissing you?'_

'No, I'm also not telling you he was kissing my neck until my skin was starting to bruise a bit!'

She chuckled. _'__That__'__s __a __bummer. __Now __I __know __nothing __about __what __you __were __doing __with __him.__'_

'Well _tough_!' I huffed, victoriously planting a proud fist on my side – but couldn't help but vaguely wonder why I felt like I was making a total idiot of myself again for some reason.

'_Anyway, __Romano__… __since __you __answered __Spain__'__s __phone, __could __you __please __wake __everybody __up __in __his __place __and __get __you __all __over __to __the __church? __There__'__s __lots __of __work __to __do! __Oh, __and __that __reminds __me__ – __has __Spain __already __told __you __about __the __church? __About __WHAT __church __I__'__m __talking __about?__'_

My fist in my side lost its intensity and kept on staring outside. Antonio was putting away the hammock. I wish he wasn't – he should just _throw_ that thing on the ground and come inside, before he got sick again, dammit. The air was way too cold for him right now.

'_Romano?__' _Hungary impatiently insisted.

'Yes yes, he has told me all about it.' I answered while making wide gestures at Antonio that were supposed to mean: 'Come the fuck inside, you damn moron, and stop furrowing your forehead like that!' but probably looked like 'I would like to go canoeing right now – and you can be the captain! _Wheeee_!'.

…

No wonder he was looking at me like I had completely lost it.

'_Ah! __So __he __has __told __you __already?__' _Hungary asked.

I shrugged, turning my back to the door. 'That's what I _said_, right?'

'_Great! That makes it all a lot easier. Now, come to the church as fast as you and your **spent ,****trembling ****body **can and help me out with instructing the rest.'_

'…I want to ask you so many questions because of that sentence, I don't even know where to begin.'

'_Oh __my._' Hungary said, but didn't bite.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes for a minute.

'First of all – stop talking so fucking _dirty _about me, dammit. And second… who's "the rest"! What "rest"!'

She clacked her tongue. _'__Why, __all __the __countries __I__'__ve __instructed __to __come __to __the _Sagrada Família_,__of __course! __There __are __at __least __12, __13 __of __them __here __right __now!~__' _

My jaw dropped. '_What_?'

'_Don't "what" me like that, Romano. I'm a very vulnerable and sensitive woman, you should treat me with care or else I'll have to kick some respect into your cushiony butt. Besides – I told you last Saturday, remember? About finding ways to make the weddings a bit less expensive?'_

'By calling _13 __fucking __countries_ over to join me, my brother and the bastards we're marrying with sightseeing a damn _church_?'

'_No, __by __calling __13 __countries __over __to __help __fixing __and __organizing __the __last __bits __of __your __weddings.__' _Hungary sounded annoyed. _'__We __need __good __food, __good __decorations, __good __drinks, __good __photographs__, __good __music __and __a __lot __of __other __things __that __are __good __in __order __to __actually __let __the __weddings __**happen**__, __Romano__ – __we __can__'__t __afford __spending __too __much __money, __so __be __glad __everybody __here__'__s __happy __to __help __us __out!__'_

'Good _god.__'_' I murmured.

'_Just put some working clothes on, come on over here and help me mentally undressing all these men – I mean, actively instructing all these men. Okay?~'_

'Good _**god**_.' I repeated.

'_Okay __then!~ __See __you __in __a __bit, __dear! __Bye!~__' _Hungary tittered, always happy to hear me answer her what she wanted to hear me answer her – and hang up.

I hang up as well and looked up from the phone to look over my shoulder at Antonio, who had just come back inside and was now hugging me from behind.

'Who was it?' he asked.

'Hungary.' I uttered a deep breath. 'We need to come over to the church right away.'

'Right away?' Antonio sighed.

'That's what she said.'

'But whyyy…'

'So that she and I both can undress and observe naked men.'

He stared at me.

'…_what_?'

I shook my hand and grimaced. 'Don't think about it. _Please _don't think about it. Don't think about canoeing either. Just hurry up and get yourself dressed - I'll wake up the rest.'

'Sure…'

He nodded a bit confusedly, but let go of me – and I hastily sprinted away, up the stairs, almost fucking _flying_ – I needed to do so much in such a short amount of time, dammit, so much…

Ugh. Hopefully, Feliciano and Germany at least had the decency to be already dressed and ready to go and _not_ too much _tangled __up_ with each other's naked gross bodies when I'd barge into their room…

We would see.

Yeah, we would see just how much time it would cost me to get everybody ready.

**xXx**

…33 minutes.

_That__'__s_ how much time it eventually cost me to get everybody ready.

And with "get ready", I meant "get everybody dressed, gathered and sitting on stand-by in the motherfucking German wurst-car because a certain American asshole still had Antonio's car".

…

It amazed me, really, but everything that I had expected to go wrong, actually went _right _this morning, _every_ single thing, because…

…one: Feliciano and his potato-faced butt-bonker were already awake and fully dressed in old clothes (something that bothered especially Feliciano immensely), so when I came into their room with my eyes firmly shut for things that I _could_ see that I really didn't _want_ to see, the mental damage that was done to me actually wasn't _that_ bad;

Two: Antonio had become so fucking worried about me and my strange ramblings about canoes and aspirations to attack/undress men, that he had actually made himself useful for once and prepared the car for the four of us while fetching us some sandwiches as well since he was busy being productive anyway and he was apparently liking it a lot and good at it, too;

Three: the above two points made me realize _**I**_ should probably get dressed as well, before the other three morons would start complaining about the fact that I was the only person who still wasn't ready and I really didn't want their snappiness all over me, especially not Germany's – his snappiness sounded more like a constant stream of "grrrrrr", which was more annoying than Feliciano's trademark "veeeeeee", so I put my old clothes on, loathed the way I looked, got the four of us in the car and ready to go;

…and last but not least, four: the weather and short distance between Madrid and Barcelona also helped us out a lot, because it was a _lot _shorter than the distance between Madrid and Rome, which meant we all were a lot more positive about the minitrip that was about to come, no matter how horrible it would probably still be, because _**mini**_trip.

Oh, and, like I said, the weather wasn't too bad. And that was great, good weather always had a wonderful effect on us country-things.

So yeah – 33 minutes after I had started collecting everybody, we actually were ready.

I'll put it down better: we were _so _ready, we were even _on __our __fucking __way_ already, only because the Great Discussion About Seats And (Switching) Places _wasn__'__t_ a Great Discussion this time – Germany had just said:

'Well. Although I have a very nice map of Barcelona, I don't think I need it. Barcelona is pretty close by, so I'll do this one on my own. You can sit with Spain in the back of the car for the rest of the trip, Romano. Just don't sex him up too much, you'll stain the leather.'

And I had said:

'Fucking fucker.'

but of course I still did what he said because I'd rather sit in the back of an old, dingy German car with Antonio than I'd want to own ten brand-new Italian cars together with Germany.

Besides, Germany could have his logical moments.

Sometimes.

Rarely.

Almost never.

Okay, just forget that compliment I made about Germany and change it into something mean.

…

Anyway.

That was _that_, really. Case cleared – seats were arranged. Done.

…

Well.

On to Barcelona, I'd say.

**XxX**

Because everything had went so damn _smoothly _this morning, it took a while before this good news sank into my easily-discouraged way of thinking. So when I finally got out of my "holy-smoke-we're-actually-doing-something-right-here-but-that's-impossible-oh-god-we're-all-going-to-die-on-this-trip-aren't-we-better-brace-myself"-daze, the first thing I heard was Feliciano, _squeeing_ because he had seen a roadsign that said "Barcelona – 2 kilometers", and the first thing I _saw_ was one of Antonio's delicious handmade sandwiches, being offered to me by a still worried-looking Spaniard.

The sandwich he wanted to hand out to me was a sandwich with chicken, pesto-sauce, some salad and – of course – a few sliced tomatoes. One of my _absolute _favorites.

Oh god, _yum!_

Antonio sighed in relief when I sat up a bit and hungrily focused my eyes on the sandwich.

'Ah – so you _can _blink!~ That's great! Here sweetie, have some. You're looking a bit pale.'

'I _feel _pale,' I admitted, gratefully taking the sandwich over from him.

'Why?'

'Everything's… going so well.' I frowned and took a bite out of my sandwich. '…it's suspicious. I expect something to go wrong any minute now, but not as much as I did half an hour ago.'

The Spanish man smiled and carefully, protectively slipped a hand around my waist.

He did nothing more than that – just putting that hand/arm around me – but it was enough to make me feel at ease a little bit more.

'I think you might be overworked, Lovi… and that bugs me. You should really watch your health, especially in times like these. I know the wedding and all is a big happening and I know how important it is for you, but _please_ try to relax, okay?'

I glared at him. 'Relaxing gets us nowhere, dammit!'

'It still gets us further than acting like a paranoid parrot, sweetie.'

'…yeah, I guess you're - wait, did you just call me a fucking _bird_?'

Antonio blinked his big green eyes and rubbed his chin. 'Mmm… I wonder if I should be glad to have gotten an angry reaction out of you or be concerned about the fact that being called a bird is more unsettling to you than being called paranoid…'

'If _I__'__m _a parrot, then _you__'__re _an _ostrich_, dammit!'

He stared at me – and then pulled me closer to him anyway, softly squeezing my waist.

'I'll be anything you want if you promise me to take it slow today – and the rest of the week.'

I gave him an unsure look, swallowing the already last bits of bread.

'But Hungary said that we still have a lot to do this week…'

'Hungary said that?'

Antonio laughed a bit and turned my face towards him, taking my chin in his hand, looking _crazily_ _attractive_ as he put on his serious face and swiped the bread-crumbs off my lips.

'Ah, well… Hungary says lots of things, Lovi. Lots and lots and _lots _of things. You shouldn't blindly do what she tells you to do, though. I respect her a lot, especially now that she's moving heaven and earth to help us with our wedding, but _she__'__s _not the one that's getting married to me this Friday – that's _you_, my love, and I rather have a hellish wedding with a blushing, grumpy and relaxed groom than a perfect wedding with a groom that's about to collapse from the stress.'

I snorted. 'That's standard _you_, alright.'

He just smiled. 'Just promise me to take it easy, my love. That's all. You don't have to do this all by yourself, I can help you out as well. That's what husbands are for… right?~'

I gulped and slowly gripped his wrists. 'R-right, right…'

'So?~'

'…I promise.'

'Promise what, sweetie?~'

'…to take it easy for the rest of the week.'

'There you go.' Antonio looked reassured and let out a long, deep breath, pecking me on the lips. 'Now just go with the flow and everything will be just fine, my love… we're about to go see the _Sagrada __Família_, after all! Your favorite church of all time!~'

I could practically feel myself getting more excited and nodded.

'Th-that's right! There aren't a lot of churches that fascinate me more than the _Sagrada __Família_! There—'

'Barcelona! Barcelona! Veee!'

Feliciano, who had been delightfully calm up to this point, suddenly began to bounce up and down in his seat – and even when Germany wordlessly put his hand on Feliciano's head to push him down, he still managed to _hop _on through. _And _to spin around to look at me with glittery brown eyes.

'Lovi, Lovi! Look! It's Barcelona! It's the city of Gaudí, big brother! And the big cathedral of Barcelona! Casa Milà! And the _Sagrada __Família_!'

'I _know_!' I said just as happily (and tried to ignore the stupid look Antonio spontaneously got from watching our brotherly interaction), turning to the window to look outside, to the beautiful view of the old city.

_Gah_, I loved this city! I loved this city almost more than I loved Rome, no matter how perfect Rome was, and I swear that I would have gushed over this city just as passionately as I had gushed over Rome, if I hadn't been carefully instructed by Antonio to take it easy on things.

…

But…

But I _could_ gush over some buildings with Feliciano, right?

Just a bit.

It was one of the few interests we actually shared, after all, and god, I was dying to share some love for spectacular architecture and breathtaking buildings with somebody who was just as much, if not _more _of an artlover, as/than me.

But before Feliciano and I could begin our fiery conversation about the best buildings in Barcelona, Germany gently flicked Feliciano's ear and glanced over his shoulder to both me and Antonio, a satisfied and somewhat small, yet happy smile on his face, pointing to something big that was slowly getting bigger as the car was approaching it.

I sat up even more and clutched the front seat (Feliciano's seat) as tightly as I could as cranes, construction-installments and a big, brownish church made everything else around it look positively worthless.

The _Sagrada __Família_.

There it was.

The best church in the fucking _world_.


	60. Sit Upon

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1:__The __ending __of __this __fic __is __slowly, __VERY __slowly __approaching __us__… __but __of __course, __it__'__s __still __nowhere __near __REALLY __ending. __Thank __you, __rambling-quality!_*pats own back* _I __wonder __how __much __chapters __there __are __still __going __to __come __before __we__'__ll __reach __the __most __important __chapter __of __this __fic, __namely, __the __last __one. __Oh __god. __Place __your __bets, __everyone! _*puts money on 122* XDDDD

_A/n2: Since my A/n's of last week were so depressing, I think it's time for a random-funfact. Yay!~  
__Do you know what my first OTP was? No? It was Super Mario and Princess Peach.  
__YES. __I __was __(and __probably __still __am __a __bit) __crazy __about __them, __probably __because __they __were __so __different._^^ _And __I __think __I __wrote __my __first __fanfic __about __them__(didn__'__t __even __know __it __was __called __that __back __then) __when __I __was __8, __9 __years __old.  
__NOW ISN'T THAT JUST SAD.  
__Don't answer that.  
__I__'__m __23 __now, __and __so __far, __I__'__ve __had__… __well__… __five __to __six __OTP__'__s, __with __Spamano __being __the __seventh __pairing__ – __and __the __**second **__that __has __two __guys __in __it._^^  
_And all of my fave OTP's, ALL of them, are weird combinations. Personality-wise/social status-wise, I mean.  
_…_I __don__'__t __know, __I __felt __like __telling __you __this. _XDDDDDDD

_A/n3: One of my reviewers, **supahnova**, told me that Gaudí was actually not really Spanish, but Catalan - and as a Catalan, he wasn't so happy to be part of Spain.  
...but lots of other reviewers are now telling me that there are a lot of misunderstandings and what-not about this matter, so now, I'm quite confused about what's right and what not.^^;;;  
Anyway, that caused me to edit a bit. Again. Hope this is the last time I have to do that in this chapter, though - and sorry if I have, one way or the other, offended people with this chapter._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LX:

_**Sit Upon A Rhythm  
**__**(Natural Vibrations)**_

The _Sagrada __Família_.

I know you're getting sick of me ass-kissing this almost perfect building, but _fuck_ you – and let me tell you something _more_ about the fantastic wonderful epic unbelievable incredible astounding mesmerizing and simply _**motherfucking **__**AWESOME **_basilica that is the _Sagrada __Família._

Alright.

Once upon a time, there was this (airheaded of course) Spaniard called Josep Maria Bocabella, who was originally selling stupid stuffy books, but decided to screw books and build a _fucking_ _church-like __building _instead after having visited a wonderful church in – that's right – Italy.

He started building this vague vision of a church he had in mind in 1882, based on a design he had gotten from the wonderful but also quite absentminded architect Francisco de Paula del Villar (also Spanish as fuck) and was funded by donations he got from people who felt sorry for the poor bastard (probably rich Western European dickheads).

However, building the church must have been a really big pain in the ass for these guys, because when, one year later, a Spanish/Catalan dweep showed up and asked them if it was alright he could try something with the design and construction of the church, both Bocabella and Villar were quick to shove their shit into the man's hands, probably with the words "LOL, yeah, good luck with _this_ bitch, sucker~" (shush, I happen to believed a lot of Spanish people talk in tildes).

But this man, Antoni Gaudí, wasn't just an ordinary airheaded Spaniard/Catalan. And he wasn't a guy that easily stopped projects not-even-halfway either – no, this man was an _architectural __miracle_. He had already built many great buildings before… and he'd be fucking _damned_ if he hadn't a very clear vision about what he wanted to do with the pathetic first bits of the basilica in mind.

First of all, he dumped most of Villar's shitty plans in the nearest trashcan, where they belonged, and made a new design – a far more modern, more individualistic, more _fantastic _design, a design that would influence the rest his life forever, a design that he called: _Basílica __i __Temple __Expiator i __de__la __Sagrada __Família_… or just _Sagrada __Família _for short.

And then, the building and constructing could finally begin!

…or so Gaudí had hoped, but as the former architectures and designers of the church had warned him, organizing everything was indeed a fucking bitch: it took Gaudí _years _to finish a mere 20% of the entire idea, and the unfortunate man didn't even get the opportunity to ever gaze at his own finished church from a safe distance with a glass of wine on the side, because he died in 1926 – he was hit by a freaking _tram _when he was on his way to (another) church one black day, what the hell, I didn't even know they already _had _trams back then, Gaudí probably just discovered the first one, that unlucky bastard – and was buried within his last social-life-killing project.

Holy _shit_.

Just try to get that. Getting buried _inside_ your most precious project, just because you loved it so much. _Damn_.

Now _that__'__s _what I call fucking _dedication _for your work!

I mean, that's like… like burying Antonio under 1,000 kilograms of his own, homemade tomatoes! **Whoa!**

…

What? It IS fairly impressive! Hell, I could go for a grave like that!

…

N-not right away, though. I wanted to live a couple of centuries longer, if that's alright with the world.

…

Anyway.

With Gaudí's death, you might expect that everybody in Spain would have been quite pissed for being stuck with an unfinished church (with a dead body inside) and wanted to break the whole brownish thing down, but nope: people had gotten a lot more interested in Gaudí's heritage to the country, and over time, more brilliant and less-brilliant people started to get themselves involved with the building of the _Sagrada __Família_.

That was great news – Gaudí's work was saved!

But…

It would take ages, even more than two whole _centuries _before the church would be finished, and the building would face few, but _nasty_ hardships in the meantime:

When the Spanish Civil War started, the work on the church was interrupted in 1936 for a few years. Some assholes even destroyed parts of the church because it was so damn beautiful, they couldn't stand it.

…

Okay, that's not _really _the reason why they did it: "fellow" Catalan anarchists probably thought the building wasn't Catholic enough or whatever and so, they did the only thing Antonio and all those other Spanish/Catalan men were very good at back then – they attempted to _fucking __tear __the __entire __church __down _with brute force.

But somehow, the _Sagrada __Família _survived the attack (they were distracted with lots of challenging coloring books from a young-but-already-quite-the-douchebag America, I like to believe). And the unfinished church would also survive/recover from some weird, reconstructed versions of Gaudí's original design – young people always know better, the assholes – and even in the beginning of _this __very __year_, it had to endure a fierce fire that some _other _asshole (probably a Catalan anarchist-reincarnate-fucker) had started in the church's sacristy…

…but nobody of the fat Western tourists was killed or wounded and the damage was minimal, so I'd like to say fuck you to that evil halfwit.

Here it comes.

Wait for it…

…

_**Fuck **__you_!

There. Much better. Hope the bastard's crying and cradling himself in shame now.

Moving right along.

Nowadays, the construction of the _Sagrada __Família _was going pretty smoothly, actually, or at least more smoothly than it used to go. The building's considered a monument now and it's one of the main attractions of Spain for tourists all over the world – and who can blame them? Even the very construction site is an impressive view to behold: high cranes, hardworking builders, freaky material and mysterious pieces of church _everywhere_ – and apparently, it was even possible to get guided tours through the _Sagrada __Família _these days in exchange for money.

…

…a bit wacky attempt to get more money, I must admit, but hey – they still _really_ need to get all the euro's they can get in order to fund the building.

So yes, they're still heavily relying on… donations.

…

Yeah. Maybe not so much was changed over the years after all.

When I thought the church was going to be finished, finished _at__last_?

Um… well, I don't want to put a pin on it, but I think the building of the basilica was… well… at _least_ halfway now… possibly/hopefully a lot further than just halfway because of the improving techniques and shit over the years though, so… personally, I hoped the _Sagrada __Família _would be finished in 2026.

Yes. It should be finished in 2026. One hundred years after Gaudí's unpleasant meeting with a tram.

…

That would be nice.

Antonio and I could go take a look then, during the festivities (because yes, you bet the Spanish would want to party once that beautiful bitch of a church was done) and we'd make lots of pictures, pictures in which I could act like a retarded tourist and pretend to carry the whole church on just one hand with a grin that said "that's right, I'm carrying the whole church on just one hand, motherfuckers!"…

…a-and we could also put those pictures next to the pictures that would be made on our wedding and compare them with each other, and then Antonio would say romantic crap like 'Oh, look Lovi, that tower wasn't built yet when we got married, but at least you still look as handsome as you did back then, you Italian _stud~_' and then I'd blush and call him a bastard and eventually ask him to find more silly differences between the pics of then and now and it would be a fucking boring night and I would love every damn _second_ of it.

…

Y-yeah.

That would be nice, indeed.

**XxX**

'H-hey, did you know…?'

I glanced over my shoulder, to Antonio, who was standing just behind me with his arms loosely wrapped around my shoulders, and I hesitantly enclosed my hands around those arms, shaking them lightly.

He looked down at me with a relaxed smile.

'Did I know what, Lovi?'

'The _Sagrada __Família_,' I started excitedly, '…was actually never really meant to become as cathedral-ish as it is these days: Gaudí just wanted to make a cathedral-sized building. But over the years, the shape and design changed so much, that you might as well call it a cathedral now – almost a cathedral that can compete with Barcelona's cathedral! Isn't that amazing?'

'I'm sure it is, my love.'

'Doesn't that make you want to know _more _about it?'

'Not really. Not at _all_, actually.'

'What?' I frowned.

Antonio gave me a helpless grin.

'A-ah, don't get me wrong, sweetie, I'm _very_ happy you're so happy with this church, and listening to your overjoyed voice whenever you try to tell me everything you know about something artsy _never_ gets old, but… you _know_ I'm not really into art…'

I huffed. 'Yeah, but come on – you still have some original paintings from Picasso and Salvador hanging on the walls, so you must have _some _sense of art!'

Antonio blinked. 'Wait – those dirty things are considered _art_?'

'Well _yeah_!'

'Even the butt-painting?'

'Yes.'

'And the one with… melting clocks and stuff?'

'_Especially _the one with melting clocks and stuff.'

'_Why_?'

'Oh, don't break your head over that – you're too simple to understand it anyway.' I said, _radiating_ intelligence as ever but at the same time suddenly actively wondering myself why the _fuck _a painting with melting clocks was so fucking awesome again – but just give me a minute, I'll remember.

Antonio laughed and rested his head on the top of mine, leaning forwards.

'Too simple, eh? That's what that Gaudí-person of yours told me as well when I asked him what was so great about building a church that looked more like a freaky sandcastle with lots of holes through it…'

I squeezed his arms a bit more.

'Y-you met him?'

'Yes – just once, though. Although I didn't care a lot about what he was doing back then – I had my own issues, after all – I _did _know it would probably be better if I just let him be. He seemed happy to be there, and it was nice (and pretty rare) to see someone with so much honest, genuine _passion _in his work, so yeah…'

'How was he? As a person, I mean?'

'Who? Gaudí?'

Antonio thought about it for a moment.

'Some people called him an arrogant, unsociable man, others said he was very friendly and polite, but I myself remember him as a very… interesting man. And nice, too – even though he saw I didn't get this whole construction plan of his, he was very polite to me. So yes, I thought he was a very nice, interesting man. One of a kind.'

'One of a kind…' I said after him, and smiled a bit, nuzzling his arms and sighing softly, '…s-so he was a lot like you, then.'

I could pretty much hear him raising his eyebrows.

'Like me, Lovi? I don't know about that. You know I'm no Gaudí, ahahaha…'

'Fuck that. Just… just think about it: a-a very nice and interesting man, one of a kind… come on, that's… that's definitely _you_, Antonio. E-except that…'

I tilted my head backwards until I could look him in the eyes, that stupid, bashful smile still present as I pushed myself backwards, deeper into his embrace.

'…e-except that you… are a lot nicer and a lot more interesting to me.'

Antonio stared at me.

'Lovi…'

'A-and…' I in- and exhaled slowly, '…n-no matter how much I admire the man, n-not even a truckload of fucking brilliant Gaudí's could ever compete with just one idiot Antonio. That… that would be a very unfair fight…'

I finally looked away from his reddening face and sheepishly stroke his arms, shrugging, frowning, you know, the usual.

'…I-I mean, you'd fucking _totally _wipe the whole damn floor with all those Gaudí's, and… a-and that would be very… _unpractical_ for the further construction of… the church and all… w-with all those… Gaudí's over the floor…'

I felt Antonio shuddered and let out a delighted sigh, hugging me tighter and kissing the back of my head over and over again.

'Ah, Lovi, Lovi Lovi Lovi, silly, lovely, awkward Lovi of mine…'

Awkward? _Me_?

What!

I fucking _never_was awkward, dammit!

And _certainly _not when there was only a load of incomprehensible bullshit rolling out of my mouth when I tried to say something nice!

So I gave him one of my nastiest and fakest glares ever as he, without even lifting his arms off my shoulders, turned me around to face him.

'W-who do you call _awkward_, y-you damn—'

Antonio simply cut me off with a long, lingering kiss and chuckled as he pulled back, his cheeks rosy and his eyes half-lidded.

'…ah, don't _ever _change, my love…'

He smiled and pressed our equally hot foreheads together, breathing the same air I was breathing.

'…please, _please_ keep on giving me millions and millions of reasons why I should do everything that's within my powers to make sure you'll keep on sharing those secret, _sacred _smiles of yours with me.'

I groaned, slightly dazed.

'G-_god_, you're going to have _killer _vows this Friday, aren't you…'

'Oh yes.' Antonio put on an almost comical straight face. 'You bet I'll do my very best to make you swoon into oblivion. Better bring some pillows with you to catch your fall. Or wait, even better – push England into an empty pillowcase!~ He's made of eyebrows and hot air anyway.'

I bit my lower lip harshly and held in a snicker.

'…dammit, you're funny, you bastard…'

Antonio grinned broadly – he always did when he had somehow accomplished to make me smile – and hugged me some more, wanting to say something, but—

'Big brother, big brother, Ludwig and I have parked the car!~'

Suddenly, Feliciano was there, jumping up and down behind me, pulling my jacket like the impatient child he was.

And then something _awful_ happened.

'Hey! Hey, Lovi, hey! Are you finished cuddling in public, Lovi? Hey, Lovi? Are you coming with us? To the church? Hey? Hey!Are you finished cuddling in public yet, Lovi? Hey! Big brother? No? Yes? Hey, what about now? Luddy's getting cranky, Lovi! Hey, are you finished cuddling in public now? Hey, hey! Lovi? Lovi? Lovi? Hey?'

…

I think I speak for us all when I say _GAAAAAAH_.

_Really. _I sometimes liked to imagine that we all had reasons given from God to be born on this planet – some reasons were good, others were… well, less good…

And in my dear brother's case, I honestly believe that God was having a creator's block when he came up with Feliciano. Like: "oh what the heaven – just lemme try something _funky_ with _this_ one" and thus, the Italian claxon – I mean Feliciano, was born.

…

Oh well.

It's still better to have an Italian claxon for a brother than no brother at all. Or estranged brothers.

'HEY, HEY!~'

…at least, it _most_ of the time was, dammit.

**xXx**

Well!

Soon after Feliciano had convinced us to come with him and the German bastard to the church further up ahead, we…

…

…well, came with him and the German bastard to the church further up ahead.

And the more the four of us approached the great _Sagrada __Família_, the more excited both me and Feliciano got – and the _happier_ I (once again) got about the fact that the Italian claxon – Feliciano, dammit – was my brother.

I mean… we had never visited this magnificent church before, at least not _together_, so I was having a fucking wonderful time: walking hand in hand with a very much at ease Antonio, yapping with Feliciano about mosaics and architecture and hoping out loud that the Spanish people would manage to get the basilica ready before Gaudí's 100th death-year, and I wasn't even getting irritated by Germany, who kept on commenting on the lack of safety on the construction site of the church ('Who's going to move those cranes away? What if people trip over that boulder? What if tourists will suddenly barge in during the ceremony? What if _Hungary_?'), so…

…so yeah, my mood couldn't get any better!

…

That… probably meant it could only get worse, right?

Right.

_Fuck._

…

Oh, maybe I should just continue to look at all of this from the bright side!

Maybe… maybe things would just _stay _like this: nice and easy and not annoying at all and then—

_WOOSH_

'Hahahahahahahahaha!'

'HOLD IT RIGHT _THERE_, YOU!'

…

…and _then,_ a _huge_ mouth-filling cloud of dust and air and hamburgersand some very familiar laughter rushed us by, followed by a very red-faced and very disgruntled looking Switzerland, who was, for some reason, running, and dressed in his old military uniform.

Oh, _and_ he was wearing camouflage/army/green-black-brown/panda bear-make-up-facial-painting-shit.

And swishing a huge gun around.

…

What. The _hell_.

Also _why_. WHYYY. Why _now_. Why _here_.

Goddammit, not even the most beautiful place of Barcelona was safe for… _whatever _this was…

As I was internally sobbing because of the joke that was my life and felt really bad for myself, Switzerland noticed our confused little group, and immediately stopped chasing America – we all know it was America – to glare daggers and narrow his eyes at us at the same time, which was amazing, because I had always thought I was the only person in the world who could glare daggers and narrow my eyes at stupid people/things/empty nothingness at the same time without closing my eyes, _dammit_, but apparently, I wasn't. Shit.

…

Anyway…

Switzerland snorted and came towards us, planting his big ass gun right in the ground in front of us, looking as menacing as he always did.

'So. You four "marriage candidates" want to pass to the church?'

'Yes please!~' Feliciano chirped, while Germany and I instantly thought something wasn't quite right here (not Antonio: he was distracted by a rock – _that's right_, a _rock_).

'Aha.' Switzerland nodded cynically. '…_really_ now. And who might you four be?'

…

The four of us stared at him, blinking.

'Aww, I _knew_ I should have stuck on that nametag from our last congress…' Antonio groaned quietly, sighing and shaking his head.

'Um… it's _us_, Switzerland!' Feliciano tried, beaming a friendly smile at Switzerland while patting me, Antonio and Germany on the shoulder in turns:

'…veee… you… you _know_ us, right? We're Italy Romano, Spain, Germany and _me!~_ Veee… come on, you _must_ have heard of us!~'

'At least some vague _rumors_.' Germany sarcastically added, who was looking pretty pissed.

The blond Swiss frowned deeply and snorted again.

'So you guys claim to be Italy Romano, Spain, Germany and Italy Veneciano, right?'

'Well _yeah_.' I said matter-of-factly while scowling, '…I don't know how many _other _persons have passed you by that claimed to be _motherfucking __personifications_, but—'

'HEY. _Don__'__t_ mock me. Never _ever _mock me.' Switzerland growled and wagged a finger in front of my face (oh well, at least it wasn't his gun). '…I'd like to let you know that it's unbelievable difficult to fool me or to pass me by without my personal and carefully-selected permission. But…'

He pursed his lips.

'…but there are currently, right as we speak, _two_ strange persons wandering around the construction site that have attempted and succeeded to trick me with their stunning costumes of Spain, the Italies and Germany. These persons both did that at least _twice_.'

Antonio looked surprised. 'They both tricked _you_? _Twice_, even? Oh wow, how did they do _that_?'

Switzerland gave us a long and stern look. Then he cast his eyes down and frowned thoughtfully.

'Well… I encountered them for the first time an hour ago. Miss Hungary had just given me the important job to look over the construction site with a couple of security guards, to make sure the four marriage candidates would arrive here without experiencing much hindrance from persons that aren't supposed to be here… when _suddenly,_ a suspicious person appeared with glasses and a big, plastic axe that claimed to be Spain.'

'Oh _god_.' I rolled my eyes and grimaced. 'Sounds like America. I suppose you laughed and/or shot him in the face and kicked him out right away, right?'

'He looked very convincing to me, so I let him go through.'

My mouth fell open.

'_What_?'

Antonio made a face. 'But I don't even wear glasses! Let alone (plastic – _really?_) axes!'

Switzerland didn't seem to hear us and continued his feverish (yes, it really sounded and looked like it was quite feverish) tale, furrowing so hard his eyebrows looked like they were suffering even more than his forehead.

'Soon after this brilliantly disguised stranger ("America!" I said, but was ignored) had tricked me into allowing him to go on through, another man showed up. He had a high-technical brown string tied to his blonde hair and the most hairy frown I had ever seen. He claimed to be Italy Romano.'

'He claimed to be _me_?' I looked at the Swiss in disbelieve. '… that was fucking _England_, you moron! Didn't the Hush-Puppy eyebrows and blonde hair gave him away?'

'He looked very convincing to me, so I let him go through.'

'Oh _come __on_!'

Still ignoring my complaining comments, Switzerland carried on.

'Miss Hungary wasn't pleased – for some amazing reason, she had managed to look right through their fantastic costumes – and gave me the careful instruction to repel the unwanted visitors. So I did. Of course, I was deeply shamed by myself and promised Miss Hungary and myself to prevent any more unwanted accidents like these to happen anymore. _But_.'

He took a deep breath, coughing when he inhaled a bit _too_deeply.

'…but unfortunately, I disappointed both Miss Hungary and myself not just one, but _two_ _more_ _times_, when I firstly met a genuine-looking, very broad-smiling Germany eating hamburgers, closely followed by a very pissed-off Italy Veneciano whose attempts to smile constantly failed and whose resemblance with the _real _Italy Veneciano kept on _dazzling_ me.'

'Right.' Germany nodded stiffly. 'So you let them go through. Again. Even though they both looked so much like England and America that it could have hurt your eyes.'

Switzerland shrugged.

'They looked very convincing to me, so I let them—'

'…you let them go through. Yes. I know enough – thank you, Switzerland.' Germany rubbed his temples and huffed. 'And _there__'__s_ my headache. I was already wondering what was taking it so long.'

'Veee… but Big Sister Hungary recognized them again, yes?' Feliciano asked the now somewhat troubled-looking Swiss.

'Yes!' The blonde clacked his tongue in admiration and leaned on his gun like it was a cane. 'That woman is _mind-blowing_. She knows and sees _everything_.'

'Now that's a scary thought.' I muttered, shivering.

'Miss Hungary was… quite terrifying when she called out to me with the… _urgent _request to drive the two imposters away. So I did. Again. Once again, I was deeply shamed by myself and promised Miss Hungary and myself to prevent any more unwanted accidents like these to happen anymore. I'd at least try _very_ hard this time. S. This times. _These_ time_s_. You know.'

…

…my _god_, Switzerland's repetitiveness was so _boring_, no wonder my already fairly short attention span started to drift off to more interesting and, if I must be honest, more sexually and Antonio-focused thoughts.

'And just when I was busy actively removing at least _one_ unknown stranger from the construction site, the four of you showed up. And you know the rest.' Switzerland concluded, which was enough for me to try to focus again – and _not _on a certain ass. Anymore.

'Yes. Sadly enough, we indeed do know the rest of the story.' Germany let out a soft grunt and kept on rubbing the sides of his head.

'So, having that said…'

Switzerland stood up a bit more and looked the four of us in the eye, one at a time.

'…can you prove to me that you are the actual marriage candidates Miss Hungary is waiting for? Because you don't look very convincing to me.'

WHAT.

'Wait a minute…' Antonio murmured, putting his hands in his pockets.

'Oh you _got _to be fucking _kidding_ me!' I exclaimed to the Swiss, smacking myself on the forehead, '…just _look __at __us_, you gun-slinging idiot, how in the world can we look any _more _like ourselves than we do _now_! We _are _we!'

Switzerland wasn't impressed and crossed his arms – with gun and all still in his grasp.

'Just prove to me that you are you, and all's good, Italy Romano – if that's your _real _name.'

'Listen, _you __damn __**weirdo**_, if you don't fucking let the four of us go through right now, I'll—'

'Got it!~'

Antonio's sudden squiggle-attack caused me and Switzerland to look up to him – and to the nametags he had in his hand.

'No. You can't be serious.' I told Antonio, slowly shaking my head when he happily attached my nametag to my chest while.

'But I _am _serious, sweetie!~ And what's more convincing…(he quickly put his own nametag on as well when Switzerland came closer)… than a _nametag_?'

'A kick in the head.' I said.

'What's that?' Switzerland all of a sudden came between us, looking at the bright-yellow nametag on my chest that said _"__Hello!~ __My __name __is _**South ****Italy**** – ****Lovino ****Romano ****Vargas ****bitches**_"__._

'It's a nametag!~' Antonio proudly said, poking my chest like it was a pudding, '…and as you can see, it proves that we are who we say that we are!'

'Oh! That's _genius_, Big Brother Toni!~' Feliciano gasped, clasping his mouth.

'_Incredible_.'

Switzerland's eyes spread themselves wide open as he looked from my chest to Antonio's chest, which sounded a lot more nasty than it actually was.

'…it's true. I can read it. You may pass – this wonderful evidence proves that you two are _unmistakably_ Spain and Italy Romano bitches.'

'I _knew _it!' Antonio cheered, throwing one of his hands up in the air and giving a way too overexcited Feliciano a celebratory high-five with the other one.

'I'm surrounded by morons.' I bluntly said. 'Why am I even still hanging out with you, dammit.'

Antonio grinned, let go of my brother and grabbed my hand, pulling me closer.

'Because if you didn't have _me, _you wouldn't have been able to enter your beloved _Sagrada __Família_ now.'

'Good point.' I nodded – reluctantly.

'Alright. Now that I'm sure you two are who you claim to be, let me call somebody trustworthy to escort you the last few meters to the church.'

Switzerland allowed a small, extremely rare smile to appear on his face and beckoned a fellow security guard he was probably in command of to come his way.

And he came his way – while waving and winking at me.

…

…

It was fucking America.

Looking _just __like _America.

Only with two green stripes of camouflage-stuff on his cheeks.

But really – _that __was __all_.

Still, Switzerland didn't notice _shit_ of course, and gave the cheeky blonde a confidential pat on the shoulder.

'I trust these two individuals into your care, good man.'

'Go on right ahead!' America-in-disguise cheerfully said.

'I will.' The Swiss gave him another pat. 'Please lead them safely to the _Sagrada __Família _and bring them to Miss Hungary and the rest.'

He looked and sounded so damn _epic-war-movie-like _serious that even _America_ got serious from it, giving Switzerland a _powerful_ look.

'You _betcha_, Commander. I won't let you down. I _promise_. I will protect these homosexual men against everything evil that might be creeping around on this site with _every __single __drop __of __American __awesomeness _I have in me!'

'_Good_. I know you can do it. Keep on looking for the strange unidentified persons as well when you take them to the church, then I'll talk a little bit more with our "Germany" and "Italy Veneciano" here.'

'I will, Commander.'

'Watch it – the strangers are _crafty_. Who knows how they look like now.'

'I'll watch out, Commander. Count on me.'

'Now _go!_'

'Yes! Wish me luck, Commander!'

'Good _luck_, comrade.'

And then we departed.

And if that little group of street musicians in the park close by the church had played their theatrical music during this last touching dialogue between America-in-disguise and Switzerland just a _little_ bit louder – with increasingly deafening violins and triangles and the like – it would have looked like a fantastic ending of a war-like scene.

_Especially_ since America-in-disguise even walked away with me and Antonio behind him in _fucking __slow-motion_, waving his last (slow) salute to a frowning, but proud and slightly emotional Switzerland, who saluted back.

'God,' Antonio whispered to me, wiping a tear from his eye while copying America's ridiculously slow pace, '…seen that? Isn't it amazing how _nothing _beats the indestructible trust of a commander in his men, Lovino?'

…

…

Oh sweet mother of Holy Bearded Men, _give __me __a __**fucking **__**brea**__**—**_

…

You know what, _forget __it_. I didn't even _want _to try to think about all of this anymore, I had other things on my mind, dammit.

Besides, I had promised Antonio to keep it cool no matter what, so I _would_. I'd even ignore his stupidness for the time being.

That's why I softly squeezed Antonio's hand a bit firmer, who noticed – and smiled at me, squeezing back.

'You okay, Lovino?'

'Yeah…' I sighed and ran my free hand through my hair, '…all this drama is just… a tad too _overwhelming_ to me.'

'Ah well – it'll probably get better once we're in the _Segrada __Família_, my love.'

'Hope Feliciano will get the chance to pass Switzerland…'

'He will – I saw he was already sticking on Germany's nametag to said person's chest. They'll be fine.'

'I hope so.'

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, letting Antonio and America-in-disguise lead me the way – but opened them again when Antonio started shaking my hand.

'Lovi, Lovi… open your eyes, sweetie…'

I did as he said and…

…and was instantly met with the beautiful, yet unfinished picture of almost perfection.

The _inside _of the _Sagrada __Família_.

Oh.

Oh.

_Oh_.

As I speechlessly stared at the antique wonderfulness in front of me, Antonio's hand gave me another squeeze.

'We're _there_, Lovino…'

**xXx**

There were…

…_so _many things I wanted to do when I stood there, in the middle of a huge, giant hall with ceilings that reached to the heavens.

Like staring.

And staring.

And smiling like a fucking goof.

Also, staring.

Staring.

Staring.

Drooling.

Gasping and quickly falling down on my knees to scrub away the puddle of drool to remove its grossness since there simply _wasn__'__t __any room_for grossness in this brown-and-grey cave of artistic discovering and explorations.

And I'd probably do some more staring, too.

All while holding on to Antonio's hand like I'd _never __ever _had held his hand before.

But.

I _couldn__'__t_.

Because once I got over the biggest breathtaking shock, I started to… _notice_ things.

And with _notice_, I mean _see_ and _hear_.

And with _things_, I mean _persons_.

…

I mean…

It was actually pretty fucking _lively _here!

I all of a sudden saw Poland and Lithuania running around, who past us by while carrying vases, daisies, carnations and those evil _German_ flowers, talking about decorations, curtains, carpets, possible dress-codes and yes – _ponies_.

I also saw the Netherlands shuffling around with a bright blue vacuum cleaner and a fresh cigarette between his lips, looking more pissed and/or more concentrated than ever.

Austria was there as well and he was also cleaning, dusting off some old, but pretty-looking instruments that for _some_ reason stood at the big altar, near the end of the intimidating hall.

Oh, and there were France the Fuckface and Canada, too, making tiny, French/Canadian meals in this mini-kitchen they had somehow created (in a fucking _church_, _**what**_) and shooing away Prussia with a fork, because apparently, that freaky albino-freak was here as well.

Belgium, Russia and Russia's weird-ass older Ukraine sister were also present and had made something like a bar left of the chamber, putting empty glasses and (half)filled bottles of _bier_, _vodka _and other kinds of creepy alcoholic drinks (shudder – **milk**) on a neat table, while the stronger nations (Denmark, Sweden, _Finland_) were busy putting down statues, chairs and heavy pieces of decoration down.

And there was Japan, who was the first one to actually _see_us and gave me and Antonio a respectable nod, before he and the badly-hidden photo camera in the sleeve of his kimono turned away from us again – but only after he had made a quick gesture to a familiar brunette female standing a few feet away from him, who stopped forcing Liechtenstein into something that looked like a bridesmaids' dress and looked up in delight.

'Romano! Spain!' she exclaimed, spreading her arms like a mother seeing her kids again after a long and hard day at work would, and walked our way when Antonio and I didn't make any attempts to indeed run into her arms.

'Hi Hungary!~' Antonio still greeted her back almost just as joyfully, '…I see you've been busy!'

'Incredible…' I muttered, looking around me. The church was still open and dusty – hell, it was as open and dusty and not-private as an unfinished church could be, but…

…b-but it was _amazing_ how much more the entire hall already looked like a… well, like an actual _church_, really.

Damn, t-there even were flags of Italy, Germany and Spain hanging on the walls.

I… I could definitely see me walking up the aisle here… and now more vividly than _ever_.

'Ha, _yes_. Look and _marvel _at the wonder that is my knack for organizing things!'

Hungary chuckled and put her hands on her hips, winking at us.

'While you and Roma were busy enjoying yourselves with all kinds of illegal activities (or so I hope), I called over some countries and asked them if they could help me out with your wedding. Most of them claimed to be busy. _Then_ I tried again, but this time I asked them if they could help me out with your wedding _in __order __to __prevent __you __Latino__'__s __from __tossing __around __with __our __sacred __Euro-money_ – and _look_ how many countries suddenly remembered they actually weren't busy at all!~'

'You're a fucking _miracle_ _worker_.' I heard myself say to her, looking at her in awe.

'Oh, well…'

Hungary laughed again, blushing and casually twisting a long lock of her hair between her fingers.

'…I'm just doing what I promised I'd do for you, dear. And don't compliment me yet – it's not going perfect at all.'

'It _isn__'__t_?' Antonio said in disbelieve, tearing his gaze away from a big bouquet of red and yellow carnations.

Hungary clacked her tongue and pulled out a tiny notebook out of her bra (naturally), flapping through some pages.

'Ah, you see… there probably aren't enough seats for Friday yet… and Japan still needs to print some photos… Liechtenstein and Monaco are supposed to be pretty loli-bridesmaides, but they don't really want to (yet)… the Netherlands keeps on smoking… Prussia's roaming around… and _oh, _don't even get me started about Switzerland: that blonde, hotheaded hottie can't even keep America and England out of the way, and that's a bummer because I really don't want them to be around here – I can't have _those_ nations around here right now.'

'Why not?' I asked, but right on _that _specific moment, Germany and Feliciano finally entered the church – and Hungary excused herself.

'Sorry dear – I need to inform Veni and Germany as well, so… talk to you later!~'

'But—'

'Lovi, is it okay if I go over to Francis and Canada?' Antonio abruptly cut me off, gently pulling my sleeve, '…I also want to be busy – it's going to be _my_ wedding, after all!~'

I frowned and thought about it for a while – Antonio had this nasty habit of getting awfully clumsy every time he wanted to help out – but in the end, I agreed: it really _was _going to be his wedding, so... yeah.

'Yeah, alright, go on ahead – just don't try to annoy anybody, okay?'

'I'll do my best, okay? No promises, though.' Antonio smiled teasingly and pecked me on the cheek, then hurrying himself over to the… cold-buffet, I supposed.

Ugh. _Men_.

…

I mean: ugh, _Spaniards._

…

Yeah.

In any case, now that I was alone again, I wanted to take a stroll around the church to inform how everything was going and if I could do anything to help out (but not too much)…

…but _then_, out of _nothing_, England suddenly appeared from behind a pillar.

He took a quick look around him and when he was certain I was alone and the rest was way too busy to pay attention to the (just like America _very _poorly disguised) Englishman, he elegantly speed-walked over to me and took a deep, shaking breath.

'So. You're alone now, I see.' he observed when he came closer.

'I… am.' I admitted – quickly backing off a bit, mentally putting myself on stand-by in order to be able to race to Antonio if I had to.

'N-no, no, don't be frightened!' England hastily said, '…I'm not here to nag about your irresponsibility again – even though you should really consider changing your country's laughable government, you bloody Italian tosser.'

I blinked, giving him a weary glare.

'…okay... what _do _you want to nag about, then?'

'I want to nag about – no, talk, _talk_, for heaven's sake, about…'

England inhaled deeply again, his voice getting lower and more awkward.

'…A-Alfred… _America_, I mean.'

'Oh?'

'Y-yes. It's quite important, and I think you are the only one here can help me out since you already_ have heard_ that question, so… do you have a minute to hear me out, Romano?'

…

I didn't know yet if I had a minute to hear him out.

…

But my _curiosity_ did.


	61. Rounds

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Since I've already received over __**2,500**__ reviews (the counter up here probably says 2,483, but that's just FF doing weird again) thanks to you wonderful reviewers with your wonderful comments, let me give you a little disgusting thank-you poem (that probably sucks ass because I __**can't **__rhyme but lalalalalaaa~):_

_**~ Ode to the reviewers ~**_

_Reviewers, reviewers, who might you be?  
__Staring at chapters, commenting on them, see  
__Each and every week bringing the very best right up into me (?)  
__Thanks for that – I salute thee._^^

_Reviewers, reviewers, whoever you might be,  
__I jump in the air and swim in the sea._

_FIN._

_YAY I CAN DO POEMS~  
_*mauled by bears*

_A/n2: And now for something completely different!~  
__I… think I might be falling in love._ _I'm not quite sure about it though – I think I'm mixing my feelings of fleshy lust with feelings of love, sadly enough – but for about three weeks, I've had some… feelings. Feeling for_ _this new intern we have at the school I'm working as a pedagogue-in-training or whatever it is called… and he's really cute. Really handsome, too. A head taller than me and, yup, three years younger (__**shut up Tamer~**__). He teaches Biology. And I like to tell myself that he always seems very happy to see me, even though I say the stupidest things when he's around. Pfffrrt…  
__But he's only at my school on Thursdays. And he'll be gone once February starts.  
__What should I do?_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXI:

_**Right Round  
**__**(Flo Rida)**_

What to do, what to do.

Hmmm.

_Hmmmmmm_.

I decided to stare at England just a little bit more – partly because I was still hesitating about listening to my curiosity, partly because I was secretly _enjoying_ seeing England all worked up and _not _snarling at me for once, heh – and wait for him to say anything, but…

…

…well, he _wasn't_ saying anything. And he didn't look like he was going to tell me anything soon either.

The blonde Englishman just stood there, in front of me, wringing his hands and biting his lip, a large wrinkle developing in his forehead the longer I lingered – oh wait, that was one of his eyebrows.

Huh.

I blinked. I had to say that it was kind of unusual to see the Englishman _this_ stressed-out. Sure, I knew he could be rather tense, but _this_ was ridiculous. Man, he looked like he was boiling from anxiety or something…

…

…oh, I knew that feeling. I knew that feeling all too well. And it wasn't a nice feeling, no, not a nice feeling _at all_…

…

…well, better help a fellow-stresser out, I suppose…

'Okay.' I finally said, still keeping some sort of a safe distance in-between us (anxious or not, he was still a mean Englishman to meafter all), '…for the time being, I'll… listen to you.'

England, who hadn't seen this answer coming, spread his eyes open in amazement.

'Wait – did you just say you _will _hear me out?'

'Yeah. Yeah, why not.' I gestured a bit around me. 'I mean, look, it's not like I have anything more important to do right now… well, that's a lie, I probably _have_, but since Hungary and all the other countries are taking care of things now anyway…'

'Right. Um… well. Right.'

England swallowed a smile – I knew he did, I always made the same face when I was giving myself a hard time swallowing nervous smiles – and straightened his posture a bit more, giving me a short, spastic nod of the head.

'That's fairly nice of you.'

I shrugged a bit.

'I have my moments. _Especially_ with the marriage getting closer and all, so… you're lucky, I guess.'

England stared at my face for a second.

'Wh-what!' I immediately snapped, scowling at him defensively.

'You… you've become _happier _the past few weeks, didn't you?' England asked.

I felt I was getting red, but pretended I didn't notice and scratched the back of my head.

'…how should _I_ know, dammit, I'm not measuring my happiness each and every day…'

'But you _are_, right?' England continued, '…happier, I mean. Everybody talks about it. They're all surprised you're actually capable of smiling and being affectionate with Spain in public like a normal person would.'

Wh-what?

'T-the_ fuck_? Would you all _please_ go get a fucking _life_ already! M-my happiness and unusually healthy relationship with a slightly twisted but _very_ caring man is none of anyone's damn business!' I snorted, rubbing my blushing cheeks.

He made a face.

'Bloody hell, _look _at yourself. Blushing and acting all flustered and cutely. You're not even embarrassed anymore to talk about how much you care about that stupid Spaniard of yours.'

'I—'

'You really _have _gotten happier. And more confident about yourself, too. That's amazing, really. Is it all because of Spain's wish to marry you?'

'Um—' I stammered, but was interrupted again.

'I want that happiness as well.'

England gave me a piercing stare, his green eyes almost burning through my head.

'…w-what the hell are you talking about!' I nagged, feeling more uncomfortable with every passing second and looking around me.

The Englishman looked around him as well and cursed when he noticed the few curious stares some other countries were giving us, leaning a bit more towards me.

'L-look, could we talk further in a room more _private_? I don't want somebody like Spain to get weird thoughts about seeing me talking with you.'

I squeezed my eyes a bit. 'Don't fucking _lean _to me like you are a damn _house_, I'm just as big as you are. And _shit_, don't you think taking me to somewhere private will _definitely _cause Antonio to get weird thoughts?'

'I just need to have a confidential talk with you without watching that Spanish faggot killing me with his eyes, _dammit_!' England reasoned, suddenly grabbing my arm and dragging me with him as he stomped away,

'…a-and I _really_ don't want to be spotted by Hungary – that evil wretch has tossed me out of the church a bit too many times if you ask me – and I don't wish to meet America either – a-at least not _right now_ – so… just _work_ with me, would you!'

'A-alright, alright!' I said, quickly glancing over to the tiny kitchen Antonio was standing and barely catching Canada's confused glance, '…sheesh, just calm _down _a bit, you English pervert…'

He gasped. 'Well have I _ever_! I am _not _an English pervert, you Italian… _bottom-boy_!'

I gasped as well. '_What _did you just call me?'

'You _heard_ what I called y—'

'_Yeah_ I did! Call me that again! Call me that again _one _more time and I'll fucking scream out loud you're going to rape me in the bushes!'

'_What_ blasting bushes, _**you god-forbidden Italian b-o-t-t-o-m - b-o-y, **_we're not even going _outside_!'

'What, so you're just GOING TO DO ME RIGHT HERE IN PUBLIC THEN?'

A few more countries looked up.

'_Christ_, just _SHUT_ _UP_, you evil _wanker_!' England hissed to me with a somewhat hysterical, breaking voice.

'Hnnnmm, how odd, _Antoine_, my British-pervert-is-molesting-your-saucy-Italian-toyboy-alert is tingling…~' France then mused, tapping his chin.

England now simply paled – and hastily pulled me into a small room right next to the big chamber, before France could tap Antonio's ass and point at us – but _boy_, that was close.

'_Bugger_, that was close…' England himself muttered as well and sighed. Then he quickly closed the door behind him ('B-bloody hell, why is this horrendous thing still _open_?'), finally resting his back against the old wooden door and releasing me from his grasp afterwards.

'For God's sake, Romano, was that honestly _necessary_? Yelling through the chamber I'm going to rape you? Are you out of your egg-sized _mind_?'

I huffed, glared at him and folded my arms in front of my chest, taking a big step backwards.

'Well, it's not like you've never done that _before_.'

The English bastard froze a bit and gave me a look that was both hurt and extremely irritated, but he took it like a stupid Englishman would (while clenching and relaxing his fists and showing me a _really_ stiff upperlip) and didn't took my bait.

Instead, he just sat down on a rock – he could actually choose: rocks everywhere here – and put one leg over the other, breathing in and out a couple of times.

'Right. So, here we are. All by ourselves. In a private, exclusive room.'

'_Very_ private indeed.' I nodded, looking at the huge gap behind us, 'When do you think they're going to put a wall here?'

England made a weird sound and was probably biting the insides of his cheeks for a little while, before he demonstratively turned his back to the open wall and ordered me to sit as well.

Literally.

'Romano, _sit_!'

I stared at him.

'I'm not your damn _dog_, you know.'

'Oh. Well… in that case: Romano the South Italian, _sit_!'

'Ohhh. Clever. But no.'

'Look, would you just _sit_ already!'

'No!'

England lost his patience. '_Fine_, then… then just keep on standing and looking positively _silly_ there like that, I don't bloody care!'

'Wha—_God, _just fucking tell me what the hell's going on with you already, you… really, _really_ weird man!' I snarled right back.

'I _will_!' he barked.

'Well _good_!' I sniped.

'Right! R-right…'

The blonde's voice now got surprisingly… soft, and he looked down, to the dusty, crumbling floor.

'…it's… um… it's about… Alfr… America.'

'I know – you already told me _that_ part.' I informed him.

He jolted his head up and scowled at me.

'Cut it _out_ already, would you! Th-this isn't easy for me to do, you know! I should be… I don't know, I should be home, drinking tea and eating some freshly bakes scones, not… sitting _here_, in a dingy room with the bratty lover of that dimwitted Spain…'

'Yes. And yet: _tadaah_, here you are.' I pointed out with a frown. 'Probably because of a reason. Now _tell me _the damn reason – I don't want to rush you, but there's this wedding I have to prepare myself for and I don't—'

'I want to propose to America, alright?'

England gave me an insistent (and somewhat embarrassed) look, his face still quite… white.

'Oh.' I blinked, but then shrugged. 'Okay, nice. That's great. I don't like you, but I'm glad your relationship with that douchebag has come to this point.'

The Englishman's face started to harden.

'What the hell do _**you **_know about my relation with that bloody brat?'

Piercing green eyes. _Yikes_. I could feel some shivers running up my spine.

Great, now he was getting creepy. And I was still here, with him, _alone,_ separated from the other countries, who were probably thinking England was _banging_ me while Antonio had too many French hands in his pants to wonder where I had gone off to.

Story of my fucking _life_.

'That's right, I-I don't know anything about your relationship with America.' I heard myself say – and I had to remind myself to praise myself for my courage later, because you almost heard nothing of my slowly increasing fear of the Englishman.

'No, you _don't_,' England grumped, '…b-but you _do _know a thing or two about… how to improve relationships in _general_, don't you?'

I forgot my nervousness for a second and furrowed my brows.

'What the hell makes you think _that_?'

England calmed down again and awkwardly pulled his ring finger.

'Well. Y-you're getting _married_. You're… you're _obviously_ a lot happier than you were before. And Spain, Spain's looking really upbeat as well, so… that proposal must have had some fantastic effects on your relationship, right?'

…

…

…um.

'…wait, wait a minute…' I started, and finally decided to sit down anyway, watching him.

'…England… you think that Antonio's proposal to me is the reason why we both seem happier?'

He was quiet for a moment. But eventually, he nodded – carefully, _hesitatingly_ even, but still: a nod is a nod.

'Um. Yes. I mean… there probably are more reasons too, but… well. What _else _could have made you two – but especially _you_ – so… _annoyingly_ jolly and lovey-dovey out of the blue?'

…

My jaw dropped.

Out of the blue?

Out of the fucking _blue?_

'Now let me tell you _one _thing, England,' I started with a soft, but _very _low voice, '…if you _really_ think that Antonio's popping of the damn question was the sole or main reason why our relationship grew better, I recommend you to rethink this… _wacky_ relationship-strategy-theory-thingy that's bouncing around in your head _right this instant_, because _no shittin' way _that just a lame marriage-proposal will improve your relationship!'

The Englishman looked startled.

'W-why _wouldn't_ it? It works with _you_, so—'

'No it _doesn't_!' I snapped, shaking my head, '…_god_, and I thought you were _smart_, England! I mean, what the _fuck_! Don't you see it takes _more _than just a stupid proposal to improve a relationship?'

'I-I never said I was… _fully convinced_ a marriage-proposal would be sufficient enough…' England muttered, scissoring his fingers together embarrassedly, '…that's why I firstly wanted to ask you if that really was the case. You understand?'

I ignored his comment – and I have to tell you it feels fucking amazing to be the one that ignores somebody else for once, it's like a whole new world – and gave the Brit a _disdainful _stare.

'For the record… you _knew _I was travelling around Europe for the past few weeks, right?'

He smirked. 'Heh – who _didn't_?'

'Do you still know _why _I did that?'

'_Not_ to search for cheap ways to pay for your bloody country's debts.' he mumbled under his breath – but I still heard him anyway and glared at him for that – fucking British money-worshipping asshole.

'_No_, not for _that_,' I admitted – while glaring, '…I did that in order to find out how in the fucking name of everything that's good and holy and dressed in long divine robes I was _ever_ supposed to… well, _top_ Antonio. In… bed. And in our relationship in general.'

'Right…' England said, looking bored. '…right, about that… how, dear Romano, did _that_ failure move of yours work out for you, hm?'

'_Failure_ move?' I repeated.

He nodded. 'Yes – you failed, right? You still haven't… _boned_ him.'

…

I made a disgusted face. 'That's… that's really _gruesome_, England.'

His face became so red all of a sudden, it was like it caught _fire_.

'_What_! I-I just didn't know another word for it so rapidly!'

'You made _that_ pretty fucking clear, yes. Asking me if I have _boned_ him already. Holy_ shit_. No wonder most of the world believes you tactless English fuckers suck in bed.'

'HEY!' England jumped off his rock – almost bumping his head to a lower part of the ceiling and shoved his finger in my face.

'…well _excuse_ me, you Italian wanker, but I'd like to let you know that we English _studs_ do a _lot _more in bed that just _suck_, alright?'

Again, my jaw dropped.

Also, I shuddered.

'Ew.'

England didn't realize right away what he had said, but when he _did _realize, his already burning cheeks burnt even _more_ – hell, they seemed to be on the verge of _popping _– and he quickly sat down on the boulder again, leaning his face on his clenched fists.

'…n-never mind what I said, just… what were you saying again, Romano…'

'…um… well… as I was saying…' I cleared my throat, '…I… planned all these trips to talk to all of Antonio's former dominating bedmates to find out what I have to do to be able to top him – he was very sick back then, so I figured I just _had _to take my chance now. So that was my _goal: _finding a way to let _me _take _his _breath away instead of the other way around.'

England dared to look me in the eyes again and raised an eyebrow.

'Wanting to top a sick and economically unstable country. Right. A rather _selfish_ and _superficial_ goal, if I may say so.'

I had expected that reaction and smiled weakly.

'Ha… yeah, you'd think that, right? It got better, though. Although I indeed started my trip for… presumably selfish and stupid reasons, I… discovered a much more… _noble _reason underneath it all: during my many trips, I… I found out I actually just wanted to get to know Antonio better. The person he was. The _country_ he was. The fucking _bastard_ he was – I wanted to know all about that man and what made him behave like he did, before he turned into… w-well… Antonio. _Just _Antonio...'

I hesitated a bit, but forced myself to spit it out.

'…m-_my _Antonio.'

England had gotten a bit quiet.

'Bloody hell. I…I didn't know _that_. That must have been quite rough for you.'

'Yes!' I said, surprised that _England_, of all nations, would get that, '…it… it really _was _rough, dammit, and there were times I was fucking terrified to hear certain stories about his past out, but… I never gave it a second thought – I just had to know it! I-I had to know it _all_!'

'Was it…' England frowned and bit the side of his lower lip, '…was it _worth _it?'

I looked away from him, because I didn't want him to notice my flustered face.

'Y-yeah. Definitely. Not only did I get to know more about Antonio, but… but it also became… _easier _for me to understand certain actions of his, easier to understand some silly fears of his… and it became easier to… b-be _nicer _to him, too…'

England finally seemed to get it.

'So let me get this straight… not the _proposal_, but this odd _tour_ around the entire continent was the main reason that your relation improved… and Spain's marriage-proposal to you was like… well, the icing on the cake?'

'Something like that?' I said, shrugging and nodding.

'But if that's the case…' England muttered again, rubbing his chin, '…then I should do something like that as well before I just… _hop _into this new adventure with him without thinking about it first… I mean… there are probably many things I would like to know about Alfred… and I _know _there are still many things I need to tell _him_.'

'Really?'

'Yes – did you know that Alfred and I had our first confidential heart-to-heart talk in _ages _after he came back from Spain, last time you visited? You know, when you dropped by and demanded me to tell that… that terrible tale about how I had been such an abusive prick to Spain?'

'Well _no_ – I had almost forgotten all about that.' I said, rolling my eyes.

'Shut up.' He glared huffily at me. '…the thing is: Alfred and I could finally talk about such a heavy subject… and even though I had been convinced he would _hate _me if he _knew _what I did I my younger years, he… h-he _didn't_.'

England licked his lips before pursing them together.

'He told me something about the importance of change, and forgiveness, and the simple fact times were different back then… and we really had _quite _a good shag after all that as well, couldn't walk straight of shake that bloody smile off my face for days, so I can't say your theory's… _bad_.'

'Right?' I said – nonchalantly, of course, but I could hear the proud tone.

'Right.'

England nodded and managed to show me a tiny smile, but then groaned.

'God, I should have _known_ all of this already. Why didn't I realize I was on the right track a little bit… _earlier_…'

'Probably because you were panicking over a wedding-proposal you're not quite ready for yet?' I suggested (and yes, you fucking bet your naked ass I was enjoying my moment of intelligence to the _max, _dammit).

England stared at me like he had seen the light – the light yours truly (that's _me_) had _personally_ ignited.

'E-_exactly_! That must be it!'

I smiled victoriously, but didn't say anything. _Ha_. If only that mashed-potatoes-for-a-brain-Germany and all those other "nah-nah-nah-we are smarter than you"-nations could see me now!

'So…' I decidedly said, leaning back a bit (but not too far because I'd tumble off the rock and _damn_ would that have made me look all stupid and Romano again) '…I guess you're calling your plans to propose to America off now?'

'Absolutely _not_.' England said.

…

Oh.

I fell out of my (calm, serene) role for a second.

'…what? So you're saying… you're _still_ going to propose to him?'

'Yes.'

'Even though you're not ready for it yet?'

'That's correct.'

I blinked. 'Not that I care – seriously, I don't give a nasty France's ass what you do with your life – but still… can I ask you why?'

'Yes. Yes, you can.' England nodded. 'Go on.'

A short, strange silence followed.

…

Then England gave me an insistent look – and just like that, I suddenly realized he was actually really waiting for me to… well, literally ask him _why_.

'Oh. Um… alright.' I confusedly said, sitting up a bit. '…so… um… _why_, England?'

'Well. Um. I don't really have a choice.' he said with a helpless sigh.

'What do you mean?' I asked, getting more and more .

He groaned, sounding annoyed.

'I mean just what I said – I don't have a bloody _choice_. If _I _don't propose to him, he will…'

England paused to push his fist against his mouth.

…

What a fucking shitty timingto push your fist against your mouth, dammit!

'What? He will… _what_?'

I wiggled to the very edge of my rock-chair.

'Leave you? Dump you? Eat a hamburger?'

He shook his head.

'No, it's – eat a _hamburger_, what the _blazes_, Romano, at least _try _to act interested, you snotty little bugger – it's worse than that… you see, if I don't propose to him, he'll propose to _me_!'

Insert a burning and very dramatic British stare here.

…

…

Yeah…

…yeah, okay, very… good job of him, creating so much tension and emotion and all, but no matter how devastated the Englishman looked when he had peeled his face off his fist, I didn't get the apparent _horror _of that very thought.

I mean… sure, _**I**_ wouldn't stand in line to marry that douchebag, but I'm sure England thought a _bit_ differently about that – whether he was ready for marriage or not, America was still his lover, after all.

'You… don't want America to propose to you.' I concluded.

He bit his lip again.

'That's right. _I _want to do that, _I'm_ the oldest of the two of us, so… he should just have been… his own annoying American self and he should have waited for me to pop the question.'

'But he didn't.'

'No!' England was almost _pouting _now. '…no, he didn't! He somehow found out what I was planning to do (that reminds me: I should stop flaunting my dairy in his company), and just yesterday, when I was enjoying a wonderful stroll down the park in London with Matthew, the good boy all of a sudden told me that I'd better hurry up with proposing to his brother, because Alfred had told him – after he had finally noticed him, that is – that the _first_ thing Alfred was going to do when he saw me was proposing to me.'

'Ah.' I said, because making sounds of acknowledgement always works best in these kinds of situations.

England carried on.

'Well, you know Alfred's… America's… a lot more verbally aggressive than me, especially when it's about something that interests him, so I figured there was only one way to avoid him from proposing to me…'

'Bugging Hungary, Switzerland and the others during my wedding preparations?' I huffed.

'I wouldn't call it "bugging" you, but…' the blonde gave a short nod, '…um… yes. I indeed fled – and I thought that hiding out in the chaotic mess that is your wedding would be the perfect opportunity to not only ask you out about… relations and marriage and things, but also to be away from America and try to think of a new proposal-strategy… or, reflecting on our past conversation, to think of a new strategy to _prevent_ anyproposals from happening…'

'Yeah.' I gave him a scornful look. 'It just didn't really work out as planned, huh?'

'No, but… h-how was I supposed to know he would follow me here, for God's sake! H-he even managed to get inside the church sooner than _me_, and I just _know_ I was here first!'

'I don't know.' I simply said, shrugging.

'And that's not all… n-_now_, I realize I that it might be the best to postpone proposing to Alfr-Ameri- oh what the hell, _Alfred_, but… but how should I tell him without giving him the feeling I don't want to be with him anymore? How can I avoid saying… s-saying _no _to him…? Or... should I try to explain it to him...'

'I don't know.' I said again, blunt as _ever – _but don't call me a heartless jerk yet, I only said that because when I looked at his face, I saw that these pondering questions of his had been more of a general wondering he was asking _himself _– and _not _me – since he was staring at a certain point behind me without blinking. And it's very weird to ask others a question while staring at them without blinking, you'd creep the shit out of them. So yeah.

…

Anyway, I had gotten fed up with this private talk. My butt hurt (_damn_ you, fucking uncomfortable hard rock with you stupid rockiness), there was a slight throbbing in my head going on I couldn't really place, my nose was starting to run a bit (oh _nasty_) and I was _cold_. It was pretty drafty in this unfinished room, after all, and I just couldn't stop shivering.

'Hey, are we finished yet?' I pretty much _begged _England when his thoughtful gazing to the point behind me began to annoy me, '…I don't want to be mean, but there are more important things for me to do than… giving relationship advice to someone I don't even like.'

The Brit finally snapped out of it and glared at me, opening his mouth to shoot a new unstoppable rainof word-shaped bullets to me – and I was already _cringing_ even – when the door of the room was suddenly opened.

By Antonio.

…

Oh.

Well.

Looks like France had informed him, at last.

**XxX**

Antonio didn't even _look_ at me when he slowly walked into the small room, he directly focused his attention to the – now frowning and pissed-looking – Englishman sitting on the rock in front of me, squeezing his eyes a bit.

'_England_.'

England did the same and squeezed his eyes right back at him.

'_Spain_.'

'_England_.' Antonio said again, awkwardly bending his neck to _crack _it a bit.

'_Spain_.'

England stood up from his stone and snorted, flicking his own nose with his thumb, smiling creepily.

Two could play that game.

'_England._' Antonio grinned way more evilly.

England was impressed (he even snapped his fingers and mumbled "oh shit – didn't see that one coming" in silent discontent), but he didn't give up yet – and went for the next level…

_**Adding extra letters.**_

'_Spainnnn_.'

'_Ennnnngland_.' Antonio started as well.

'_Spaaaaaiiiiinnnnn_.'

'_Ennnnngggglannnnd__.'_

Oh _god_.

Like I was observing two fucking _air-raid alarms._

'Antonio.' I abruptly blended in.

Antonio was distracted and immediately shot all of his collected creepiness on me.

'_Looooovvviiiiiinnno_.'

Then he recognized me, instantly lost his scary mask and waved stupidly at me.

'…hi sweetie!~'

…

I frowned wearily at him.

'Yeah. _Hi_, Antonio.'

'Um… what are you doing here?'

The Spaniard looked from me to England and back, a worried and unsure expression appearing on his face.

'…with _England_, even? Wait – is he bullying you?'

'_What_!' England gasped, looking offended and therefore kind of funny as well, '…why the hell would I bully him, I'm not a bloody youngster anymore, I'm a wise and _very_ mature adult who just had a wise and _very_ mature adult-ish conversation with your silly little boyfriend, so—'

'Should bring him to Hungary, Lovi?' Antonio asked me.

'_Bugger_! You won't capture me alive!'

England jumped up, pushed him out of the way and… well, _took_ _off_.

Just like that.

Only a sad little puff of dust his running-away had caused remained.

And when _that_ disappeared, _nothing _in the room reminded me of England anymore.

…

_YESSSSS_.

_YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS._

**XxX**

Well, good riddance.

That's what I thought.

And "YES". I thought "YES" a lot, too.

Don't get me wrong – it's not that I really dislike talking with England for too long, it's just that I really dislike talking to England for too long.

…

Yeah.

So as soon as England and the voluptuous bales of hay attached to his forehead (that's right, making fun of England's eyebrows never gets old) had sprinted away, a relieved sigh escaped from my lips.

A sigh that… very quickly turned into a rather violent fit of coughing.

It even surprised myself: one moment I was slowly exhaling and giving a conspiring grin to Antonio, and the next moment, I was clasping his shirt, shutting my eyes so tightly tears started to leak out while I made _horrible_ howling and roaring noises that sounded like I was involuntarily attempting to cough up my fucking _lungs_ – and it really felt like I was busy _doing just that_.

Antonio didn't do much – what _could _he do? – except for grabbing me by the arms and waiting for the coughing to stop, which, eventually, happened.

'There there, easy now…' he muttered and loosened his firm grip around my arms once he noticed the fit was over.

'H-holy fucking _s-shit_…' I panted after I had recollected myself again, confusedly stroking some annoying strands of hair out of my eyes, '…t-that was _awful_…'

Antonio stayed silent – he just looked at me with an unpredictable, wayward look in his bright green eyes, never completely letting my arms go.

It took me a few minutes to realize that, but when I did, I let out a weak, grumpy grunt and tried to shake his hands off me.

'…I-I'm fine now, dammit, don't stare at me like that. I just needed a good cough, that's all. Really.'

But he slowly shook his head.

'I don't think that's all at all, Lovino. I think you're getting sick.'

I stared at him, blinking my teary eyes.

'_What_?'

'You're getting sick, Lovino.'

He heaved an annoyed sigh.

'…god, and I've been _telling _you all this time you should take it easy, I've been telling you not to worry yourself about stupid minorities, I've been telling you not to fuss over every single thing, _especially _not now that things in your country aren't going as smoothly as planned, and yet… you _still_… _ugh_, you're so _stubborn_…'

'Hey, s-shut up!' I protested, '…I-I'm not getting sick at all! It's just stress, okay! Stress is healthy and comes in many, _many _forms!'

'You have a fever.' Antonio said.

'Have _not_!'

'Lovino, your face is red.'

'Wow, _newsflash_!' I rolled my eyes. 'Hell, you should be fucking concerned about me when I'm _not _blushing for a change!'

The Spaniard furrowed his brows.

'That's the point – you _aren't_ blushing now. You're red because of the fever, not because of something else.'

'Oh _yeah_? How do _you_ know! Since when are _you _a doctor!'

Antonio wasn't impressed by my nagging at all, of course, and stayed calm (he most of the time stayed calm whenever my temper was playing up). Then he gently collected my face in his hands, directly cooling off my – admittedly pretty warm – cheeks with the soft touch of his palms pressed against my skin.

I harshly inhaled through my nose, shut my eyes again and shuddered a bit.

'G-_god_, that feels _nice_…'

'You're hot, you know?' I heard Antonio say.

I couldn't help but smirk at that.

'Well thank you. You're quite sexy as well.'

Worried or not, Antonio still chuckled.

'…ah, thank you!~ But… that's not what I mean, sweetie…'

'I-I know.' I mumbled, hesitantly opening my eyes halfway.

The Spaniard's friendly smile was the first thing I saw – but it wasn't only friendly, it was also slightly… _scared_, it seemed.

'W-what's with the long face, dammit?' I frowned.

'Lovi…' Antonio said, carefully running his fingers over both my cheeks, '…although I don't think you have a very _bad _fever, I do think it might be best for you to let me take you home. Okay? Don't you agree?'

I glared at him.

'Look, _don't _make decisions for me, you asshole! It's my wedding as well, dammit, and I'll stay here as long as I fucking want to, fever or no fucking fever! I don't give a shit about that! I… I-I…'

My voice died when Antonio's facial expression became warning, dark and… downright _angry_, even.

'Lovino. You are _sick_. I want you to go to _bed_ and I want you to _stay_ there. Now you can choose to work with me and do as I say, of you can choose for the hard way, which involves me _dragging_ you home and tying you to the bed for the rest of the week.'

'Yeah, you'd like that, don't you.' I tried to joke, but Antonio didn't laugh.

At _**all**_.

'I'm _serious_, Lovino. But if you still refuse to do as I say, I… I'll have no choice but to postpone the wedding.'

Wh...

No.

No.

My eyes grew twice… no, _thrice_ their size and I instantly grasped his shirt firmer, digging my nails into his chest.

'Y-you wouldn't _dare_.'

Antonio snorted. '_Try _me.'

'You fucking _bastard_.' I felt my eyes started pricking again and clenched my teeth together. 'Y-you _know _how much this damn wedding means to me, d-dammit…'

'And _you _know how much _you _mean to me.'

Antonio, who still held my face, tilted it up a bit, forcing me to look at him. I saw his expression had grown a lot softer again, though.

'I… I want you to be able to fully enjoy this wedding, sweetie…' he muttered quietly, rubbing a tear (what the hell was _up _with all these tears today, dammit) from my eye, '…your luck means more than the world to me, and… and I honestly believe you can't enjoy the wedding the way you want to enjoy it when you're feverish and unsteady. I _told _you that.'

'Mnnmbrmn.' I unclearly murmured, scowling at him.

'Please try to understand, my love.' Antonio sighed, pulling my face closer to kiss my somewhat swollen eyes.

I stayed quiet for a minute.

'…Lovi?' Antonio asked persistently, pulling back.

'One more hour.' I suddenly said, my tone of voice just as hard as the stare I was giving him.

'…just… give me one more hour. Let me stay here just… just a _little_ bit longer. Y-you know how much I worship this place. You… you can send me home right after that.'

Antonio watched my determined face and smiled weakly, yielding.

'Alright. One more hour. Then we'll go home.'

I blinked. 'You don't have to come with me, you know. You can stay here if you want to.'

'Yes. I know.'

His smile grew broader and his hands lowered and wrapped themselves around my shoulders, pressing me against him for a hug.

'…but if _you_ can't stay, _I_ can't stay either. You should know that by now.'

Oh.

O-oh.

For a short while, I didn't move. But eventually, I shyly raised my arms and wound them around the cuddling Spaniard, pushing my face, now burning because of _two _reasons, into his chest.

'…s-stupid stern fucker, dammit…'

'Ah, I know, right?~ Don't forget to mention _sexy_, too!~'

I smiled, glad to hide it in his shirt and warm chest.

'Shut up.'

**XxX**

After awkwardly smiling and standing there in that weird little room with Antonio for about… what, five, ten minutes, I decided to get out and see what other things I could do/see in the _Sagrada Família_ before I would have to go home.

And that's what I told Antonio: let the fuck go of me, you bossy bastard, and let my try to do something useful in the last couple of minutes I would be here, like… checking what Poland was actually planning to do with his disgusting decoration skills, checking what France's, Prussia's and Russia's _actual_ reasons where to be here (_those_ two assholes helping out with the wedding? My_ ass!_) and checking out where England all of a sudden had gone off to.

Also, _America_ – where the hell was _that _crazy motherfucker?

'Oh, you're wondering where America is?' Antonio said, holding the door open for me when we left that little room (and effectively gave everybody in the church the impression we just had really perverted and shameless sex in that room because most nations gave us looks that said something in the sense of "ohhh, so _that's _where you guys where!~")

'I didn't do _anything_, dammit! We just talked! _Talked_! Nothing happened!' I immediately snapped to the snickering and grinning bastards around me, but Antonio chuckled and put his hands on my shoulders, pressing a kiss to a reddening ear of mine.

'Ah, let them think we had sex, sweetie – that way they won't look too surprised when we'll go home later.'

'That's not the _point_! As if I would ever have sex in a fucking _church_, for God's sake!' I moped, quickly pushing his face away, '…s-so stop it, dammit, and go do something useful already…'

He pouted, but let go of me.

'Ah, but Lovi, there's just not much to _do_ here, really… Hungary has organized everything so flawlessly, I don't think I can help out anywhere…'

'What were you doing then before you came "saving" me from that English creep?'

The Spaniard smiled.

'_Great_ things! Eating Belgium's waffles (she had walked over to us since Russia was bugging her), tasting Canada's maple syrup and eating France's whipped cream!~'

I gave him a genuine freaked-out glance.

'That… that sounds so suggestive, I don't even know what to say.'

'I love how completely and utterly destroyed your innocence and purity is.' Antonio grinned, sexily raising an eyebrow.

'At least I _had _innocence and purity.' I haughtily commented.

He had to laugh, but didn't respond on that and suddenly spread his eyes when he seemed to remember something, smacking his fists in his opened hand.

'Oh! Before I get sidetracked again… you're wondering where America is, right?'

'What, you _know_ where he is, then?' I asked, surprised, '…so you could actually see through his "disguise"?'

He frowned. 'I'm not quite sure what you're talking about… all I know that I was talking to that brave security man/soldier a bit earlier, and then he rubbed his cheeks, and all of a sudden, America appeared!'

'Really now.'

'Yes! You can imagine my shock and surprise!'

'Oh, I can.'

'Anyway, he asked me about you – something about music he had sampled for our wedding. You need to give him a – now what did he call it – _thumbs-up_ for it, he said. He's waiting in the crypt. That's the room next to this room.'

'I _know _the crypt is the room next to this room.' I snorted.

'So I told him I'd go look for you. And then Francis told me he had seen you and England disappearing in that little room. And after I had laughed and stomped his feet for telling me this so late, I went to get you.'

'Ah.' I said.

'What were you doing there with him anyway?'

'Giving him relationship advice.'

'_Really_?'

'Yup. He's screwed forever. Now excuse me – I better go take a look in the crypt, before America blows something up or Hungary kicks him out.'

'Alright!~'

Antonio was content with the information I had given him, grabbed my shoulders one last time to steal a not-so-soft kiss from me (but that was okay) and then he wandered off – now towards Hungary and Feliciano. They were apparently busy trying to talk the very displeased-looking Monaco and scared-looking Liechtenstein into a dress, which was all very well observed by the Netherlands, who was standing just two meters further, vacuuming the same spot over and over again.

Who can blame him – that were two _very_ nice dresses Hungary had for Liechtenstein and Monaco!

…

That's not the reason why he's looking, is it.

…

Okay, never mind. Forget it.

Time to check on a certain douchebag.

**XxX**

When I opened the antique door to the crypt and stopped admiring the marvelous windows around me (that _light _that was shining in – the windows made it fucking _beautiful_ ) for a second, I was met with a somewhat starting display right in front of me.

America and England.

Sucking each other's face off like they weren't in a damn church at _all_.

…

It was already the second time I had seen them like this – America holding England's waist, England having his hands clamped around America's shoulders like he was his most precious treasure, his weird and incomprehensible mutter- and moaning smothered by the American's lips.

Until the Brit managed to pull away from him – and stared up at him, probably in _awe_.

'S-so. Right. Um. I… I guess you're not mad?'

America just smiled at him and squeezed his waist.

England didn't get it.

'But I rejected your offer. I rejected _you_.'

'No you didn't.'

America shook his head, adjusting his glasses with a cool, but somewhat bashful – _bashful_! – smile.

'I just need to convince you a little bit more, that's all!'

England – didn't know what his face was doing, he had his back turned to me – was quiet, looking down and awkwardly ruffling his fingers on his lover's chest.

'…t-there's still a lot you bloody brat need to know about me.'

'Don't get me started.'

'Shut the hell up! You… you know what I mean!'

'I do.'

America grinned and winked at him.

'I'll wait.'

England stared up at him again and muttered something soft, not protesting when the American leaned towards him again, briefly kissing him before he whispered something in his ear.

And a split-second later, the Englishman jolted his head up.

'_What_!'

He made a heel turn and gave me the most embarrassed and flustered expression ever, hastily smacking America's hands off him ("_Bollocks_, s-stop _touching _me, you evil tosser!") and…

…and then, he _ran away like the fucking __**wind**_.

Seriously – I could only feel a vengeful jab to the arm and a mini-whirlwind passing me as England disappeared from the crypt.

…

I suddenly found myself wondering if he always did that when an unwanted third person walked into a room in which he was either having a trusting talk or groping somebody.

Oh well.

'Hi Romano!' America happily greeted me, saluting me, '…so you came to check on me at last! Good!'

'Yeah.' I lamely said – and decided to shut up about everything I had seen.

'Well, you're _right _on time, man! Come! Come here and listen to my _remix_!'

America took two giant steps towards me, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me with him to a giant stereo-installation, standing in the other side of the room…

On the _altar._

There was a fucking stereo-installation standing on the _freaking __**altar**_.

WHAT.

'Okay, okay!'

America grinned widely again, pushing me down on a little chair in front of the altar.

'There are a couple of songs I'm planning to play in the church when you, Spain, Germany and Italy show up during the wedding ceremony! They're all pretty funky, too! And in order to avoid getting angry artists mobbing on me with forks and lighters and what-not, I've remixed them, using my own special _America-skills_!'

'Oh _god_.' I swallowed.

'And now, they're even cooler! Hahahaha! Of course they are! Listen, listen!'

He pushed a little red button on the huge stereo and beamed a blinding, toothy smile at me.

And then, the "music" started.


	62. Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. And **_**neither**_** do I own any of the original and very badly parodied songs that are showing up in this chapter. Just saying.**

_A/n1: December 5__th__, it's Pakjesavond (Boxing Evening you call it, according to Wiki) again. With other words – Sinterklaas stops by Monday-evening to leave all the Dutch/Belgian kids some presents, before he goes back to Spain. We can't thank him (and our parents) enough for that._^^ _Gah, I love Sinterklaas. It's such a wonderful celebration – even the teenagers I'm working with agree with me on that! And on December 10__th__, I'm going to celebrate Sinterklaas with my friends.  
__It's going to be a lot of fun, probably…  
__BUT.  
__It's just… in my country, it's common for older kids/grown-ups to make surprises for each other on Pakjesavond, like… a boat, with the present hidden within, or something else that's cute and creative.  
__Too bad I HATE making surprises with a passion. I HATE HATE HATE it.  
__B-but December 10 is getting really close, though… I should get busy already…  
__SOMEBODY HELP ME OUT HERE _DDDDDX

_A/n2: In case you're wondering – yes, six __**is**__ another word for butt! Apparently, it's military slang that refers to the term "six o'clock", which means: "a point directly behind the referenced person".  
__WHICH IS THE BUTT~  
__Wiki is amazing._^^  
_Just like the song I used for this chapter, actually! Look it up if you have time – it's a mash-up of many different and beautiful songs! _

_A/n3: Nothing new happened with that guy I like, by the way. Sob. Continue to root for me, 'cause I'll need it._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXII:

_**How Six Songs Collide  
**__**(Norwegian Recycling)**_

At first, the only musical thing I could hear coming out of the stereo was the upbeat sound of a old-fashioned guitar – the kind of guitar Antonio also has (and I'd like to let you know that he can _rock _that guitar almost as perfectly as he can rock each and every inch of my body but like _hell_ I'm giving you more information about that, you damn pervs, you already know way too much anyway).

But then, during the song, some… _lyrics _suddenly were added to the happy, jingly song.

Very _badly sung _lyrics (although the lyrics itself were pretty bad as well).

Lyrics that were sung in an _American _voice.

It went like this:

"_Look at Germany, he's a train on a track!  
__He's a train, he's a train, he's a chucko-train,  
__Yeah!~_

_Look at Germany, he's got a load (called Italy) on his back!  
__He's a train, he's a train, he's a chucko-train,  
__Yeah!~_

_He's a train, he's a chucko-train, he's a chucko-train, he's a train, he's a chucko-train, he's a chucko-train, he's a train, chucko-train, he's a chucko-train  
__Chucko-traaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnn…  
__Yeah!~"_

America then quickly pressed the pause-button and instantly _smeared _this huge fucking grin in my face.

'Well? What do you think, huh? Great song, right? I'm planning to play this beauty when Germany walks down the aisle!'

…

I only gaped at him.

'It's sung by the wonderful _Alfred Hammond_.' America proudly continued, patting himself on the chest. 'It's called _Germany's a Train_.'

…

I still gaped at him.

America laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

'God, _this _singer and title and lyrics are almost _better _than the original singer and title and lyrics, don't you think so? Hahahahaha! I'm so creative, I might blow your mind! And you just know it's true – Germany really _is _like a train! Chucko-chucko! Hahaha!'

'You've fucking _butchered _one of the few songs there are about people who think they are a train.' I slowly said, still refusing to either blink or look away from the annoying American, '…I don't know to feel intrigued or really _sorry_ for the original singer.'

'Hahahahaha! Nice! Well! On to the next song!' America yelled out, unnecessary loud, not listening to me and poked his finger on the play-button.

'And _this_ one, Romano, is going to be played when your funny little brother skips to the altar!'

I listened – with fear in my ears.

…

Yes, that's possible – who many times do I have to fucking say it before you'll get it? Whenever _I'm _saying something that sounds weird, it actually _isn't _weird – and _always _possible, dammit! Because _I _say so!

Now shut up and let me listen to the next disaster with fear in my ears, dammit!

…

Alright, the intro already sounded a lot more… familiar than the last one.

…

Oh god.

Could it be…?

_Germany!  
__Makes!  
__Italy!_

_Feel like he's living a  
__Pas!  
__Ta!  
__Dream!_

_The way he turns him on_

_He!  
__Can't!  
__Fight!_

_Because he's Italian_

_And they _

_**Bake**__ wursts every day!~  
__**Bake**__ wursts every day!~_

Pause

…

OH MY FUCKING _GOD_.

'Yeah. Alfy Perry. _Pasta Dream_.'

America smiled understanding when he saw my flabbergasted face and nodded.

'I can see how impressed you are, but this song, too, has been carefully reconstructed again with a new (and also _perfect_) singer, title and some poetic lyrics. It's _not _the original song, Romano, and for some strange, non-fiction reasons, I think it's _very _important to stress out the fact that all of this is only a "parody" and that I own nothing of the original sources. I _do_ own this awesome ghetto blaster, though!'

'You—' I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand.

'_No_, Romano. Don't. I know what you want to say: ohh, but _Al_, you shouldn't be so humble about your wonderful singing - and songwriter skills, you should be proud and rub it in everyone's face you can sing like that, and you should totally compete with _the Voice of America_ and go tell the original singer of this song how much better you made the song, yadayadayada…'

'WHAT!' I exclaimed, getting off my chair, 'I didn't want to say that at a—'

'BUT I _can't_, Romano,' America _hollered_ on, '…I simply can't do that, because it would be very sad for the artist – and because I can't run hard enough to flee from her chameleon-hair and all the other people that would immediately sue my ass.'

…

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I shouldn't nag about every little thing, that I'll eventually get used to all the stupid nations doing stupid things around me anyway, but _**no**_, you're fucking _**wrong**_. I'll never get used to it. Never. Never ever ever.

…

And maybe I should have a nice little cry-session over that frustrating fact later today. Yes, maybe I should.

…

But moving on…

'You… you are a _very_ disturbing man, America.' I finally heard myself croak out – partly because I was starting to feel sicker, partly because that douche made my throat feel dry in the worse possible ways.

'Aww, thanks, Romano!' America straightened his back and blushed. 'I'm quite proud of it myself, too! Want a copy of the CD after your wedding?'

'I want you to fucking _burn _it.'

'From CD to a DVD-disk, you mean? I don't know if I can do that… but I'll see what I can do for you! You're my pal, after all! Hahahaha!'

'No, you're _no—'_

America interrupted me again and pushed me back into my chair.

'Hush now, Romano – the next song's going to be played when it's _your _turn to walk up the aisle!'

'_NO_.' I gasped, clutching the arms of the chair will all my might. 'PLEASE _GOD_ NO.'

'Please god YES!' America corrected me, grinning so broadly I thought his cheeks were going to _snap_, '…now listen carefully, Romano – I _thiiiink _you know this song…'

He pressed play again.

And he was _right_.

Already in the _first fucking second _of the song, I recognized the beats and high-pitched hums.

_Romano's been crying,  
__For so long!~  
__Fighting tears just to  
__Carry on!~_

_But now!  
__But now!_

_Spain's come his way!~_

_The Spanish freak's  
__Gonna love Romano today, gonna love Romano today, gonna Romano love today!_

_The Spanish freak's  
__Gonna love Romano today, gonna love Romano today!_

_Anyway he wants to!_

_Anyway he's got to!_

_Love love  
__Romano!_

_Love love  
__Romano!_

_Love __**love**__!~_

Pause.

…

…

Well, that was… that was…

…

Let me put it this way: I was ready to get shot now.

America, who thought my lower lip was trembling out of pure _bliss_, puffed up his chest – don't ask me how or _why_ he did that, he just _did_ – and quickly moved his fingernails over his jacket the way they always did in action series, nonchalantly staring at them afterwards.

'Go on, Romano! You can tell me! Tell me all your thoughts about this _beautiful_ remixed song by – yes, that's right! – **Alfa**!'

'_Alfa_ he says…' I stammered with a heavy sob.

'Yes! Alfa this was! With _Love (Romano) Today_!' America announced, '…god, who knew I could raise my voice as nipple-squeezingly high and _tight _as that crazy queer guy!'

I glared at him. 'He's fucking _bi_!'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I had no idea! But that's what you get for having sex without a condom, really.'

'Wha— I said _bi_, not _STD_, you fucking moron!'

'Doesn't matter – you shouldn't do that, _period_.' America huffed, folding his arms. '…you really, _really _shouldn't do that. Always have safe sex. Don't you agree with me on this one, Romano?'

…

Heh.

'I've never had safe sex. Not once. Not once in my whole fucking _life_.' I said, hesitating between feeling proud or slightly worried about that very fact (probably the latter…).

America flung his arms up.

'You never practice safe sex? _Neither do I_! _That's_ what I'm talking about! Embrace risks, I always say! Because they make life so much more worth living! Hahaha! And maybe a whole lot shorter, too! Which means you won't grow old and rot away in an old-peoples home with old, cranky people smelling like old, cranky people around you! EVERYBODY WINS!'

My jaw dropped.

'Wha—'

'_God_, Romano…'

America shook his head, gave me an emotional, tearful look and _slammed _an arm on my shoulder.

'…you and I, my friend… we are _so _on the same wavelength, it's scary. Maybe today, _this _very moment, is the right time I forgive you for not picking me as your best man. Yes, maybe I should do that. No hard feelings.'

The FUCK?

'You just went and killed one of my favorite songs. _Killed it_. And you killed my respect for the man who sings it as well.' I dryly said, sweeping his arm off my shoulder just as abruptly as he had put it there, '…now I'll never listen to this song again without wanting to burst out in tears of sorrow. So I think, I _think_… _somebody _should _ask _for forgiveness instead of _giving it_.'

'You know what – if you can show me your honest and eternal regret for not-picking me as your best man, I'll forgive you!' America and his impressive ignoring skills suggested with a wink.

I squinted my eyes.

'_**Fuck you**_**, **you damn _**douchebag of shit**_.'

'Fair enough. Alrighty! Let's swap numbers and email and other social media crap, then I can message/poke/twitter/like/reblog you later about this touching moment.' America nodded contently.

…

Asshole or not, I suddenly felt something that seemed a lot like _respect_ for England.

…

I just couldn't shake it off. What a weird feeling that was.

Meanwhile, America gave me an over-the-top thumbs-up and winked at me once again (seriously, this guy has winked more at me in one freaking hour than Antonio had done in years – and _oh my god _am I _thankful _for that, although Antonio tended to do it more often lately, maybe I should be worried) and then he happily made his way back to the altar.

'Okay, now we have the last one – the song I intend to play when Spain enters the stage!' he told me – but now, I could actually hear some insecurity in his voice.

…

Chance.

CHANCE.

**Revenge time! **

He will fucking _pay _for murdering my number-one "sing-and-wave-your-hands-like-you-just-don't-care"-song!

'_Ohhh_?' I grinned innocently – but I bet I still looked like a fucking _wolf_, '…you sound quite unsure about this song, America… Are you afraid you've chosen the wrong song?'

He jolted his head and blinked at me, which was like winking, but with two eyes – _who fucking knew_!

'Hmm? Wrong song? What are you talking about, Romano? Of course I'm not doubting my choice of song – I'm just wondering my voice wasn't too _good_ for this song…'

…

…

Oh.

I should have known, really.

'_What_ song, America…' I sighed – and tried to pay as less attention as possible to the slowly increasing stinging going on somewhere in my forehead.

'Oh, it's a very _wonderful _song! Really rough and cool and sexual and manly!' America explained, '…but it's a lot of shouting, actually. And now that I've _covered _it under the nickname Kings of America, I'm not so sure people would even recognize the original song in it now that mytender voice has taken over control…'

'A rough, sexual and manly song… Kings of America…' I muttered – and then I gasped.

'…d-don't tell me you've remixed—'

America's grin came back _full-force_.

'_Yeah _I did! Check this out, Romano!'

He pressed play again. A long and (admittedly cool) guitar-solo was heard, and then—

_YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHH!_

_Spain's axe is on __**fire**__!~_

_He has CONSUUUUMMMMMEEEEED__!_

_Roman- and tomatoes!~_

And that was all, really, because America already pressed pause before I had time to visually express my inner disgust about this also horribly _butchered _chorus.

But I was still very glad he had pressed pause, because **gaaaaaah**.

Spain's axe is on fire?

Roman- and tomatoes?

_REALLY?_

'My fucking _god_.' I said, rubbing my forehead – and after that rubbing my stomach, which was suddenly beginning to ache.

And pretty damn _badly_, too.

O-ow, ow… _fuck_…

However, America was unaware of my pain and shared a humble smile with me.

'Yes, even this little bit already is _brilliant_, I know…'

'A-America…' I stammered, gulping away something bitter that was starting to fill my mouth.

'Made you speechless, right? Ha… I knew it would please an artist's ear like yours!'

The blonde seemed very happy with himself (well what a surprise) and beamed an excited smile at me.

'Okay, I realize you're too busy being blown-away by my crafty work to be able to form compliments or even _words _with your mouth right now, but still, _please_ let me know what you thought of it, Romano! Give me all the positive feedback you have!'

'I don't feel… so _positive_ right now…' I mumbled weakly – and had to grab America's arm to keep myself from stumbling down.

The American was _astounded _to see me like this and respectfully whistled from between his teeth.

'_God_, Romano! Thought it was _that_ good, huh? My music just took away your health and left you in this feverish, shaking state! Holy _cow_, that's _sick_!'

Could somebody _puh-__**lease **_hit him with a fucking _mountain_?

I groaned, swallowing even more uprising _shit_.

'S-shut _**up**_, dammit, a-and let me think f-for a second…'

'Yes? Yes? What did you think of it?' He was practically _jumping _now.

…

Alright then.

He wanted my feedback?

He'd fucking _get it._

_All of it_.

I firstly gagged a bit. Then took a deep, raspy breath and… and _opened my yap_.

'R-right. About… your samples. Yeah. I-I thought it was _**bhhhhhaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh**_.'

…

And…

And I actually _threw up _all over the fucking floor, barely missing the American's sneakers.

It was _horrible_.

The hurling, I mean.

Although missing America's shoes was kind of a bummer as well.

But g_-god_…

I shivered violently, immediately turning my head away from the mess and feeling incredibly nasty, shameful and cold, especially when I realized something…

I had just thrown up.

In a _church_.

Not _just_ a church (as if _that_ wasn't terrible enough), _nooooooo, _in the _motherfucking Sagrada Família_. The best church _ever._

…

Yep. That's… that's just how I _rolled_, I believe. I mean, _if_ I was going to ruin _something_ – _boom! _Then I'd ruin something _big. _

…

_Damn_.

I had just tainted the fair (though dusty, crackish) floor of Gaudí's unfinished masterpiece with my own disgusting body fluids – and not even the _good _kind of disgusting body fluids.

Holy

Fucking

SHIT.

Now I knew for _sure _I'd burn in Hell forever.

**xXx**

…

Well.

After the vomiting, I was planning to just…

…

Just…

…

…I-I don't _know_, stand around here for a bit and wait for the spinning room to stop its damn spinning already, when two firm hands abruptly grabbed me by the upper arms and forced me to focus on the blurry face that appeared right in front of me.

'Romano? Romano? Can you hear me? Romano?'

I couldn't really _see _him, but the genuinely concerned and very trustworthy voice sounded _disturbingly_ much like America's – and I nodded a bit, my head still filled with crazy carousels and other dizzy-making things.

'Yes? You hear me? Okay, good. Good. Okay. I lost you there for a moment, but it'll be alright. Don't you worry. Don't worry, okay, Romano? Talk to me, buddy.'

'…n-not your damn _buddy_…' I gasped throatily.

'Okay, keep on talking. Man, that fever really kicked in all of a sudden, didn't it?'

'Your samples… they… _really _suck… _ass_, America…' I carried on, while _gurgling_, '…horrible… hate it… holy _shit_, so_ damn much_… traumatized forever…'

'Can I do something for you, Romano?' America asked me without paying attention to my passionate confession.

I nodded once more, still trembling with fever as I dramatically (might as well take my moment now that I was hallucinating about merry-go-rounds and shit) clutched his ugly jacket.

'Please… t-tell Gaudí… I'm _sorry_…'

America stared at me.

'That's… that's going to be difficult, Romano.'

'Why is that…'

'…um. He's kind of… _dead_.'

'…oh. Right.'

'Yup.'

'Well shit.'

'Shit it is.' America admitted.

I sighed tiredly. 'N-_now_ what, dammit… I-I feel like a huge… _nothing_…'

'Don't talk like _that_ now, Romano! That's _nothing_ like you! Where's your _fire_!' America sternly encouraged me, sounding a lot like a father with _way_ too much expectations from his average-soccer-playing four-year-old son, and he dragged me away from my own puddle of grossness.

'…look, Romano, can't I do something _else_ for you? Um, like… calling a _living _person?'

'…a living person…' I mused absentmindedly – fuck, I was drifting off _fast _now.

'Yes, yes! Like Spain!' America clarified.

…

Spain?

Spain, Spain…

…

Rain, plain, drain, gain…

That all rhymes.

With Spain.

Haha!

…

Wait…

_Spain_…

…Antonio?

Something suddenly _clicked_ for a moment and I gave the American a persisted look – _without_ saying anything.

'Should I give him a call, yes?' America asked me again – and then all of a sudden started searching through my pockets.

'…now, don't panic, I don't have his number and _no way_ I'm letting you alone in this wacky state, so give me your phone and let me ring him up with it, okay?'

I nodded.

…

And that was the last thing I remembered doing that day, really.

…

…

**xXx Days before the Wedding xXx  
**_**Wednesday**_

…

…

M…

Muttering.

Murmuring.

Mumbling.

Whispering voices that increasingly became louder as I started to wake up more and more out of my dreamless sleep – slowly, but surely.

…

And…

…it sounded like they were talking about me.

…

Well… it's not like I got many other things to do right now anyway, I _think_, so… might as well listen, right?

Right.

Alright then…

'…_worried sick about him! A-are you absolutely sure there's nothing wrong with him, Doctor?'_

Oh.

Half-unconscious or not, I knewthat warm and concerned voice even better than my own – that's why I instantly felt a tiny jolt of relief and happiness running through my stiff body when I heard Antonio's sweet stammering.

Then I heard _another_ voice. A lighter, feminine voice with a heavy Italian accent.

'…_already told you that there is nothing wrong with Mister Romano, Mister Spain. He is just really exhausted. Now, Mister Spain… would you __**please **__stop crying already?'_

Sounded like Doctor Tosca.

My and Feliciano's extremely mature (but ironically very _young_) and highly-intellectual personal doctor.

Who had boobs with the size of fucking _whales_.

…

What? It should be mentioned, dammit. They're worth it.

…

But anyway, _shit_, had Antonio been _that _worried? That he had even called my personal big-breasted doctor?

'…_there anything I can do? S-should I call his boss?'_

Antonio again – man, his voice was _shrill _when he was in panic!

An annoyed sigh – _definitely_ Doctor Tosca.

'_Mister Spain, didn't you listen to me at all? Mister Romano's boss is one of the main reasons why your fiancé is feeling this bad at the moment, because… Mister Veneciano and Mister Romano __**don't have him as their boss anymore.**__ So that is probably the cause of his and Mister Veneciano's unusual… behavior yesterday – our "boss", as you nation-personifications call him, resigned.'_

R-resigned?

Our boss had actually _resigned_?

…

…

Now that's just _sad_. I mean, I knew he wasn't exactly a fan of my and Feliciano's upcoming marriages with two other men, but come _on_, isn't resigning over something like that a little _too much_?

…

Oh wait…

…stupid Lovino, _that's_ not the reason why he resigned, you dope: financial shit, debts, unsure Italians, nagging German and French and English people – _those _things were reasons for him to take a hike and leave Italy all on its own in its vulnerable state, _not_ your boring _gayness_.

_Ohhhh_.

…

Well, never mind my (ex-)boss – all those reasons _certainly_ were better explanations for my sudden fever- and barfing fest, dammit… Hell, I'm sure I can't even _look _at euro's anymore without sweating the _shit_ out of me.

…

That reminded me… how was Feliciano doing? Was he in pain as well? They said something about him being feverish as well or something, so… hopefully, he was okay…

Luckily, I'd find out soon how he was doing.

'…_is a strong nation. And Mister Germany is taking good care of him, so don't bother yourself with fussing about Mister Veneciano as well. I have told you to stop it, but if you really can't stop yourself from feeling anxious, at least limit your stress with "just" worrying about Mister Romano – and nobody else. Am I clear to you? Please don't push yourself. You are still feeble as well, Mister Spain. Very feeble. You should be aware of that.'_

After the doctor (and also proud owner of huge… _tracks of land_) stopped talking for a second, there was a short silence from Antonio's side.

But then:

'…_okay… ah, sorry for acting like this…'_

'_That's alright, Mister Spain. Now. Could you please get me something to drink? I have been in your House for over God-knows-how-many hours and you still haven't offered me anything to drink. It's quite annoying.'_

'_O-oh, that's awful! Excuse me, I'll go fetch you something right away!'_

'_Thank you. And please, when Mister Romano wakes up later – I think that can happen any minute now – remember to stay __**calm**__. He really can't handle too much stress right now.'_

'_Ah… I'll… think about that…'_

Then I heard Antonio walk away, followed by the sound of an opening and closing door.

And I don't know why, but I found myself immediately opening my eyes as soon as the Spaniard had left.

My eyes instantly met the blank and professional glance of Doctor Tosca, who stared at me from behind her huge glasses (and boobs) like I was some kind of boring program instead of her very interesting patient.

But that was just the way she looked from the outside, though: she actually really _was_ concerned about and interested in me (I knew her long enough to be sure about that), you could just… never _ever_ tell from her face.

…

Bet she was a fucking _pro _at poker.

'Ah. Mister Romano.'

Doctor Tosca gave me a small nod and scribbled something on her clipboard.

'So you woke up.'

'I think so…' I said – and was a bit startled when I heard how raspy I sounded.

Good _god_, like I had fucking _smoked_ all night long!

'How do you feel?' the doctor asked in the meantime.

I sighed. 'Really, _really _lame…'

'I see.'

Scribble scribble.

'H-hey…' I cleared my throat and sat up a bit, '…about your little speech to Antonio… d-don't you think you went a bit too hard on him…?'

She gave me an emotionless look.

'No.'

'…ah.' I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable.

'So you heard us talking.' Doctor Tosca analyzed. '…that means you must have been awake for quite some time.'

'…u-um…' I hesitated.

'Were you eavesdropping on us, Mister Romano?'

'…yyyeah.'

'Shame on you.'

'…well _excuse _me…' I huffed, puffing my face.

'And about your fiancé… Mister Spain really needs to learn to stay _calm_, Mister Romano,' Doctor Tosca then suddenly jumped to another subject, '…I know it can be fairly troublesome when you find your lover knock-out on the floor of a church, but it is _not_ a solid reason to start panicking and knee-kick the observant American that stayed with him all this time in the gut.'

I blinked. '…Antonio… knee-kicked America in the gut?'

'He did.'

'Why?'

'Why indeed… I don't know. It probably has got something to do with silly Pavlovian response mechanisms.'

'Oh. Right. Yeah, I knew that.'

The doctor and her breasts (sorry – I just really _couldn't_ _unsee them_) gave me another unreadable look, clicked her ballpoint and put away her clipboard.

'However, I need to _compliment_ Mister Spain for his efforts. Thanks to him, you made it to his House safe and sound, without experiencing too much complications. And he was also the one that called me and made it possible for me to come over and keep an eye on your health – as well as on your _brother's _health, since he collapsed soon after you did.'

I paled a bit. Fuck, I _knew_ it.

'F-Feliciano did?'

'Yes. But since he and Mister Germany had left the church immediately with Mister Spain and you – your brother didn't want to leave your side – that wasn't too much of a hassle. He's doing fine now.'

'Ah…' I muttered and felt somewhat relieved now.

She continued – her bland, but somehow still _very_ fierce seriousness never fading.

'And about Italy itself… you and your brother were lucky. The situation in our country could have been a lot more frustrating than it already is, but we sort of got most of it figured now. We hope. Well, at least you and Feliciano are both not as feverish as yesterday anymore, so that's good. But… no, I don't think Italy is saved ye—'

'Where's Antonio?' I suddenly mumbled, already totally fed-up with the stream of bad news.

Naturally, Doctor Tosca was a bit baffled – somebody cut her off, the _nerve_! But she stayed as professional as ever and adjusted her glasses.

'Mister Spain went to get me a drink.'

'Well… go get him back, dammit.' I moped, crossing my arms, '…I-I want him here.'

She frowned.

'I'm… not sure that is a good idea, Mister Romano. You might get worn-out by his… um… _enthusiasm_.'

'I don't care, I want him here!' I nagged back at her like a spoiled kid, '…I-I want to thank him, d-dammit…'

She clacked her tongue dismissively.

'I'm sorry, but you absolutely _cannot_ have sex with him in the state you are in right now, Mister Romano.'

Wha-!

'N-not thanking him like _that_, you crazy, perverted woman!' I hissed.

'Thought _that _was perverted? You should meet my husband.'

'…wait, what?'

'Never mind.' She fought off a little smirk and coughed. '…well, anyway, I still heavily recommend to you to take it easy when Mister Spain comes in. Too much fuss isn't good for you. _Or _him.'

I rolled my eyes, pulling up my sheets a bit higher.

'…_fine_. In that case, I'll _quietly _be happy to see him.'

She smiled thankfully at me – just a bit.

'Thank you very much. Your cooperation is very much approved, Mister Romano.'

'Yes.' I said, nodding, '…I'll just smile and outrageously celebrate his presence in _silence_.'

Her smile started to falter.

'That's great – if you think you can do that.'

'Oh, I think I can. And I… _oh_! Maybe I'll even do an ecstatic _hand-jive _and hug the air around him when he comes in!'

'Okay, now you're being cynical.'

I snorted. '_God_, _whatever_ _diabolical hint_ gave away my well-hidden true intentions?'

'Mister Romano.'

For the first time, I saw something of an emotion appear on her head – her forehead, if you really want to know. And it looked just like an emotion I personally knew _very_ well: _annoyance_.

'…I'm _not_ telling you this because I'm trying to be mean, Mister Romano. I'm just telling you, as your personal doctor, what you should and shouldn't do in order to stimulate your health. That's all.'

I huffed – but I knew she and her double D's were right, and I also knew she didn't deserve to be treated this way. Doctor or not, she was still a _lady_, after all.

'…listen, I get it, okay?'

I sighed.

'…I get it. I really do. And I'll try to pay attention to it. Is that okay?'

Doctor Tosca remained silent for a second.

But eventually, she gave me one of her rare, _friendly_ smiles, and nodded.

'That's okay, Mister Romano.'

I smiled weakly and was about to ask her once again about Antonio's whereabouts, but as soon as the door was suddenly being pushed open again, I realized I didn't had to ask her that question anymore.

**xXx**

Because there he was.

Antonio.

Oh.

Antonio.

Oh.

I had missed him.

But like I said, there he was!

And oh, how…

H-how fucking _huggable _he looked, _dammit_…

He wore wrinkled, rumpled clothes, probably the same clothes as he had worn yesterday, had big, unsettling bags right underneath his hopefully-flickering green eyes and his hair was even _more_ of a chaotic mess than it normally was, if that was possible.

Antonio also had this… this typical "sad-puppy-wants-to-be-loved" expression on his face and wore a stupid little dinner-tray with an equally stupid little cup of… I don't know, probably coffee, judging by the smell… and… well…

…he pretty much looked like a very clumsy, very tired-looking waiter.

Who _really _wanted to hear/see some _good_ news already.

So…

S-so it really was quite a spectacle to watch his entire dull, slumped-down posture just… just _brighten up _and _straighten_ itself _right away_ when he noticed I had woken up from my unwanted slumber.

'L-Lovino, you're… you're _awake_!' Antonio stammered with a delighted tone in his voice, a giant, relieved smile forming on his face.

'Yes, s-so it seems…' I admitted, slowly raising a hand to… well… w-wave at him.

'…h-hi, Antonio…'

Antonio's eyes grew to the size of fucking _UFO's _and his hands started to tremble, causing the little cup of coffee to shake and spill half of its contents all over the tiny, puny surface of the tray.

'H-hello, Lovino… good morning, my love…'

'Y-yeah, g-good morning…'

'Good morning…'

'Good… good morning…'

'You look… better, Lovi…'

'You… well, you actually look like shit.'

'Ah, thank you…'

'N-no, thank _you_… f-for… getting me back home…'

'Y-you're very welcome, sweetie…'

Antonio and I then finally stopped muttering and mumbling silly, quasi-sweet things to each other and just exchanged happy, relieved but _most of all _overexcited glances.

I even smiled.

…

Oh fuck that – I smiled all the fucking _time_, dammit.

And just when my surroundings slowly began to fade away bit by bit and everything was fluffy and Antonio…

'Could I please get my cup of coffee now?'

…

Oh. Right. _She_ was here as well, yes. Almost forgot.

I huffed and gave Doctor Tosca and her bouncing breasts a very pissed-off look, but the dry, uninterested stare she answered me with was too _tough_, too solid to break through.

'I see you are making yourself upset over something again. Don't.'

'_Sorry_.' I hissed through clenched teeth.

'Mister Spain? I hate to be so persistent, but… my coffee, please?'

'Coffee? Oh! _Coffee_! Okay!'

Antonio rapidly blinked with his eyes after his rough awakening and quickly walking over to Doctor Tosca to give her the cup.

'Thank you very much.' She immediately took a sip.

I made a face. What about me? I was thirsty as well!

'Lovi, Lovi!' Antonio then chirped, beaming smile after smile at me as he hysterically pointed to his tray as if all the answers to the meaning of life and everything that's got something to do with it were hidden in it.

'…um… I'm making soup downstairs! For you! And a bit for Feli as well, but… ah, anyway… would you like some? Should I get some for you? It should almost be done now! It's chicken soup!'

'Chicken soup?' I repeated, somewhat disappointed, '…why didn't you make tomato soup? Chicken soup's soup for sick people, dammit!'

Antonio chuckled. 'But you _are _sick, my love. And I've read – no, that's a lie, ahahaha, as if I'd ever willingly _read!~_ – _heard _that chicken soup is the best kind of soup for people with a cold, so… well, maybe it's also good for nations suffering from financial depressions!~'

'You should have some soup as well then.' I smirked.

Antonio grinned. 'I intend to.'

'S-so… we're both having chicken soup, then.'

'Sounds like a date to me, sweetie…~'

'…i-it does, right?' I softly said.

'You didn't put sugar in.'

…_gah_.

Annoying Doctor Tosca and coffee-cup and bouncy boobs, _coming through_!~

'Ah.'

Now even Antonio was getting slightly irritated with her, but he did his best to stay calm as he talked with her.

'…well, sorry for that, Doctor. But I'm not going to get it anymore. I'm getting my fiancé some soup instead, if you don't mind.'

'Well.'

The brunette, glass-wearing doctor seemed a little overwhelmed.

'That's a pity.'

'It is, right?' Antonio icily said – and then he turned to me, his cheeks starting to redden a bit when our eyes met.

'I'll be back in a flash, sweetie!'

'Okay.' I smiled coyly, sheepishly rubbing my knees together because I could.

'Don't you move now! Don't walk, sleep, run – I'll be taking care of you for the following few hours!~'

'A-alright.' I nodded.

'Be right back!'

And Antonio _dashed _out of the room even faster than he had done a couple of months ago, when I had told him I'd brutally stomp on all his just-harvested tomatoes if he didn't get the fuck out of bed to help me out with lunch.

(Between you and I: I'd _never _do that for real, of course, but it works every single time, so why not milk it.)

**xXx**

Less than ten minutes later, the door of the bedroom was once again opened very carefully – and first a tray, then the smell of chicken in soup (what, it _did _smell like that!) and _then_ a still very cheerful-looking Spaniard entered the room.

I looked up from my book – still needed to read all those fucking books the whole of the world had sent us, dammit, and I had just started in _Catch-22_, which actually wasn't _too_ bad, for an American book – and greeted Antonio with awkwardly-bent-upwards lips.

'Y-you're back.'

'I am!~'

'With soup.'

'Yup! Soup! _All_ the soup you want, my love!~'

'Really? _All _the soup I want?'

Antonio scratched his chin.

'…well, just one bowl for you since the other one's for me, actually, but… ah, you know what I mean, ahaha…'

'Yeah, a bit…' I nodded with a smile.

'Shall I… come over to you?'

'I hope you fucking _do_, yes.'

'Alright, then I'll be next to you in a flash, if that's okay with Doctor Tosc—'

Antonio got quiet and was a bit surprised when he saw the very empty chair next to my bed.

'…gone?' he finished the sentence, giving me a look that was both confused and overjoyed.

'Y-yeah, she said she was going to check on Feli and Germany, so… well… she went.' I explained, sitting upright and patting the pillow in my back to give me something nice to lean into.

'But I brought her sugar!' Antonio whined, waving a little chuck of sugar up in the air.

'Why the fuck did you do that? I thought she wasn't getting any sugar from you.'

…

_Damn_ you, perverted mind – stop _filling in these mental pictures!_

Anyway, Antonio shrugged stupidly.

'Ah, well… since I was downstairs anyway, I figured… might as well bring some sugar cubes with me!'

'Oh. I see. Yes. Too bad you're still too late, though.'

'Yes, what a _bummer_ that is, sweetie…~'

'…l-liar…' I mumbled with flustered cheeks, '…if you're really that bummed out, w-why would you say it in a voice like that, d-dammit…'

Antonio just chuckled softly, walked over and sat down in the old chair, the same old chair that had _me _sitting in it a couple of weeks ago, when Antonio had been so sick and I was serving him herbal tea like the weird nurse I was back then.

Only Antonio didn't have herbal tea – nope, he had chicken soup.

And as he gently placed the tray with the soup bowls on the bed, I could smell it would probably taste a whole lot better than stinky herbal tea, dammit – he was a very good cook, after all, so… well… maybe it wasn't tomato soup, but it _was _chicken soup á la Antonio.

That's… that's almost as good as regular tomato soup, really…

'Okay…' Antonio said, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a bit as he cautiously moved the dinner-tray with of the bowls standing on it over to me, '…here you go, Lovi. Hope you'll like it!~'

'Th-thank you.' I muttered and grabbed the spoon lying next to the bowl. The bowl was filled with a thin, yellowish liquid – and I know it sounds gross when I tell it like that, but it actually looked very, _very _delicious.

Meanwhile, Antonio took the other bowl and spoon himself, sending a goofy smile at me as he nonchalantly shoved his chair closer to the bed, to the head of the bed, where… well, my head was.

And the rest of my tired body as well, actually.

…

Anyway, we started eating – in silence.

…

…it was really good, actually. Just as I had expected. Nice, warm, a bit spicy but not _too _spicy… yup, that surely went down very well.

Antonio stopped slurping for a moment (he always slurped with soup, that undignified bastard) and gave me a questioning look.

'How does it taste, sweetie?'

'G-good.' I admitted, having another spoonful of soup.

His face lit up in joy. 'Really?'

I nodded and shyly kept on… shoving soup in my mouth.

'Y-yeah, really. It's actually very delicious, Antonio – and don't be so damn surprised about that, you moron, you _know _you can cook…'

'Ah, I'm glad.'

Antonio sighed a bit and took some soup as well, thoughtfully letting the spoon… _dangle_ in his mouth afterwards.

I noticed.

And I once again noticed the bags, the tiredness, the hair and the sloppy clothes as well.

'…h-hey.' I started.

His head jolted up and _there_ it was again, his smile, his kind, way too broad and sweet smile.

'Hi Lovi!~'

I swallowed, looked away and awkwardly stirred my spoon around in the soup, before continuing.

'…you… um… so… how… how _are_ things here?'

'How are things here? Um…' Antonio laughed a bit helplessly, '…I don't really know, actually…'

'You don't know?'

'N-no…' He shook his head.

'Oh.'

Silence.

Then I put down my spoon.

'…h-have you slept at all, Antonio?'

Antonio gave me a wearily look.

'…I'd love to tell you the answer, but maybe you'd make a big fuss about it if I told you and that's not good for you…'

I rolled my eyes. 'Just _tell_ me, I can handle it. Besides… I think I know the answer already…'

'…do you now…' Antonio mumbled, staring down in his half-empty soup bowl.

I narrowed my eyes.

'You haven't slept last night, did you?'

'…not really.'

'Why not?'

'Because I couldn't just… go to sleep, not… not like that, not without you…'

'…w-was I in that bad shape…?'

'Naah…' He smiled reassuring. '…I was just that… worried, really.'

'But Antonio… g-god, you stupid…'

I groaned and put away my almost-empty bowl, slyly shuffling closer to the exhausted Spaniard to… _casually _close my… h-hesitating hand around his. It startled me to feel that his hand was _incredibly_ cold, even after holding the hot bowl.

'…t-the Doctor told you I was fine, right?'

Antonio smiled weakly at me, turning his hand so mine could fit better in his.

'I don't care what she told me – all I could see was you and your pale, sweaty face, and all I could hear was that horribly slow way of breathing of yours. You had been that way ever since I found you… and I was so scared! So scared…'

'So scared that you _had_ to knee-kick America.'

He pouted. 'He was walking in the way!'

'What happened after that? After you found me?'

'Well…' Antonio sighed again, '…Hungary said she'd just continue the rest of the preparations, so I could just go away with you if I wanted to, and she also warningly told me she "wouldn't want to be in my shoes" if I had the guts to come back to the church.'

'That Hungary…' I smiled faintly.

'So yeah… we went away, you and I, and Germany and Feli, too, since Feli started to feel sick as well, and then I informed Doctor Tosca about your status, and then she came over to my place as fast as she could, and she has been constantly checking on you and Feli ever since.'

'And you…?'

'I was… here.' Antonio laughed again, still sounding just as tired as he looked like. 'I just didn't want to leave your side, you know.'

'…th-that's sweet of you.' I quietly praised him.

'…n-no, not at all, it's just normal that… lovers do that, you know…'

'So? I still think it's sweet, Antonio.'

'A-ah, thank you, thank you very much…'

'You're…' I frowned, squeezing his hand, '…you're really cold, by the way.'

'Oh?' He blinked his eyes. 'I didn't notice.'

I growled, annoyed, and crawled even more towards him, now almost falling off the bed in my enthusiasm – but Antonio supported me by wrapping a strong, firm arm around my waist.

'That's just _you_, dammit, o-of course you wouldn't notice something like that…'

'Ah, sorry…' Antonio's eyes began to shut themselves.

I scowled. 'D-don't _sorry _me, dammit…'

Then I slid my hands up to his face and brought it closer to mine, gently pressing a couple of kisses to his just as cold and dry lips.

'…y-you're feeling so cold, darling…' I breathed out softly, running my hands through his hair as I tried to pull him against me, maybe even on top of me.

'…you're so warm, though…' Antonio murmured back, finally allowing me to press him against me, and nuzzled my chest as I "fell" backwards, on my back.

'…_ah, _so nice, sweetie… you feel so nice… so nice…'

'Come…' I took a deep breath, '…come in bed with me. Come in bed with me and sleep already, you… you… _ah_—'

I gasped sharply when I felt an icy hand creeping up the inside of my thigh.

Antonio watched me carefully, his eyes fiery and intense, and he nodded, slowly moving himself more and more into the bed and… and _on_to me.

'…don't mind if I do, Lovino…'


	63. Prat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: In case you're wondering what the friggin' hell those songs were America so violently slaughtered the last chapter, I'll write down their original titles and artists here:  
__First one: _I'm a Train _by _Albert Hammond;  
_Second one: _Teenage Dream _by _Katy Perry;  
_Third one: _Love Today _by _Mika;  
_Last one: _Sex on Fire _by _Kings of Leon_.  
__Go check them out – all songs are amazing and a lot of fun to watch/listen to!_^^

_A/n2: A few days ago, my mom (who knows I'm writing stuff on internet, remember) told me she'd like me to "come out" as a fanfiction-writer already, because she's getting fed-up with not-telling anybody about my… hobby.  
__So this is what she said:  
_'_Let's make a deal, sweetie!~ Once it's 2012, you'll tell your father and brothers about your story!~ Okay?'  
__And I was like  
_'_NO. NOT OKAY. NEVER EVER OKAY.'  
__And then my mom was like  
_'_LOL, if you don't do it, then I will!~'  
__And I was like  
_'_PLEASE DON'T DO THAT OH GOD!'  
__And she got pretty confused:  
_'_I don't understand why you don't want to brag about it. You're so silly!~ I mean, it's nothing to be ashamed of, is it?~ Just tell them!'  
__And then I said:  
_'_You tell them I'm writing a story on the internet, and I'll never forgive you. Ever!'  
__And then she __**finally**__ stopped talking about it.  
_…_now, I have a lot of respect for my mom. I really, really have. She means a lot to me and I hope I'll be just as good as a parent as she is when I'm older, but DEAR GOD, if she dares to yap about this fic, I'll die.  
__My parents and brothers would think I'm the biggest pervert ever – and only _you _guys are supposed to know that. _*shot*  
_But seriously – I hope she keeps quiet. Oh, I hope so. I really, really hope so._

_A/n3: "Jij verrekte zot" = (baaaad) Flemish for "you damn moron"._^^ _Just so you know, because you're going to meet this sentence somewhere in the chapter. _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LIII:

_**Prat  
**__**(Gatas Parlament)**_

Th…

Things were beginning to get out of hand again when Antonio had literally _laid_ himself on top of me and started kissing me with slow, almost _teasing_ touches and movements, his tongue slipping into my mouth and whirling around my own tongue lazily, his arms and legs easily blocking all of my weak protests.

And… and my already red and feverish face became even redder and more feverish when that one hand of his, resting between my thighs, carefully made his way up, letting his fingertips flutter over the insides of my warm, _quivering_ flesh.

He pulled out his tongue for a minute to take a deep breath and give me a gentle, but strange, _hungry_ smile.

'Mmm, you're so _warm_, so very warm, my love, my lovely Lovi… I could touch you like this forever, sweetie… I could warm me up with your delicious body heat every minute, every day…'

I gazed up at him, feeling somewhat ravished – holy _shit _was he smoking _hot_ when he was bluntly attacking and caressing me like this – but then I gulped and swallowed the sensual mix of both his and my own saliva, before moving one of my own hands downwards, halting his.

'…stop that, Antonio.'

I was surprised to hear the strict and firm tone of my voice, and so was Antonio, who paused and stared at me for a moment, his face and eyes darkened and dull.

'…you told me yourself I should come in bed with you, Lovino.'

'Yes. But I _didn't _tell you to just _hop _on top of me and get all lusty and horny on me, dammit.' I huffed.

Antonio's hard, confused expression (because stopping him during foreplay always made him incredibly and unusually _pissed_) slowly began to change in a more normal, more _reasonable _one, until he uttered a soft sigh and flopped his head and upper body down on me, allowing my hand to remove his away from my legs.

'Ah, that's true, that's true… I was wrong to just _grab_ my chance like that. Sorry, sweetie… please forgive me…' he mumbled, then turning my face his way and showering my cheeks with tender, apologizing pecks and kisses.

'It's… it's okay, Antonio…' I said, relieved to feel him being sweet and careful with me again (just because I was feeling sick, d-dammit, not because I actually _liked _this wussy kind of tenderness or something), '…you're not feeling that great either, so… who am I to judge you…'

'Well, _still_.'

Antonio stopped kissing me and rolled off me, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

'…I should be more careful with you. And with myself, too. Doctor Tosca told me so herself.'

'Yeah, but…' I scrambled up a bit and covered my legs (…why wasn't I wearing some fucking pants, by the way?) with the sheets, '…but you don't have to punish yourself for it. You're probably just… very exhausted.'

Antonio looked up at my sitting figure and smiled a bit.

'…I-I _am _feeling somewhat… drained, yes…'

'Right?' I nodded, glad he agreed with me, '…then stop blaming yourself already and…c-come lie with me, dammit. H-here, I'll even fold open the sheets for you… wait a minute… okay, _watch_!'

With an embarrassed and very flustered face (because what the fucking _hell_ were you even trying to say or prove here, Lovino, you weird asshole) I moved away from him a bit more to spread out the sheets on his theoretically side of the bed, patting the mattress afterwards.

'…c-come on now, I know it's cold in the beginning, but… but I'll warm you up, I promise you!'

Antonio continued to stare at me and laughed quietly, his face flushing.

'What a sweet and tempting offer you have there, my love…'

I huffed. 'It's not an offer – it's a goddamn _order_. Now get your Spanish hotness over here and… and rest a bit already, you stupid bastard!'

'Oh, you're even _cuter _when you start saying things that are supposed to be really threatening!~'

I growled. 'Shut up! I _am _really threatening! Come here! _This_ instant! I'm _warning_ you, mister, don't make me crawl my angry half-naked ass over to you now!'

He was getting really amused now (not _exactly_ the reaction I had hoped for, I was actually aiming for a more "gasp-me-so-scared-now" -like, _frightful _reaction, but oh well, this still was better than no reaction at all, besides, maybe adding "half-naked ass" wasn't one of the best ideas I ever had in my life but _fuck it_) and Antonio rolled on his tummy, leaning on his elbows.

Simultaneously, he gave me a sweet, but also somewhat provoking smile.

'Ohh?~ Well… okay let's say that I _don't_ obey and you have to crawl to me. What are you planning to do then?~'

…

Oh.

Um.

…

Yeah…

Not knowing what else to do to in this situation, I pursed my lips together very tightly and narrowed my eyes at him promisingly.

'_Terrible _things.'

Antonio kept on smiling so _gah god-forbidden __**sweetly**_ at me.

'Ah?~'

'Yes. _That's_ what I'm planning to do with you if you don't come over to me. Terrible things.'

'Terrible things, huh?~'

'THAT'S RIGHT.' I snorted loudly, nodding.

'Like what?~' Antonio was really getting into his teasing now and even added some _coy_ _chuckling_ to his sweet smiling.

I shuddered. That heartless _bastard._

He _knew _I couldn't resist his deadly coy chuckling/sweet smiling-combination! It had slaughtered _millions_!

…

What? It was a _very_ fearsome weapon, dammit!

'W-well…' I started, pretending to be impervious to his dead-obvious flirting and stupidly started to pull on the pillowcases of one of the pillows lying around me.

'L-like I said! I-I'm talking about…just… really _terrible _things! I'll do that to you! Really, really terrible things! Like… the most horrible thing you can think of! But _worse_!'

He blinked.

'The… most horrible thing, but _worse_, Lovi?'

'That's… that's what I said, alright.' I said, feeling a bit dumb because of, well, reasons.

Antonio stayed very calm, a Spanish image of sexy tranquility.

'…ah, could you give me an example then, sweetie?~'

…

Dammit.

'Okay, um…' I looked up to the ceiling as I tried to blabber my way out of this, '…right, I want you to… think of something that would be the most terrible thing that could _ever_ happen to you!'

'Right _now_?'

'No, next week.' I rolled my eyes. 'Of _course _right now, you idiot, we don't have all day.'

'We don't?'

'No.'

'Actually, I think we _do_ hav—'

'**Just think of something already, Antonio.**'

'Um, okay then, wait, let me think of something…'

He frowned deeply, raised his hand to his mouth thoughtfully and began to repeatedly squeeze and release his lips between his fingers, never losing the serious stare, no matter how many weird squeaking noises he was suddenly making because of the squeezing/releasing.

…

God, that _face_.

…

Mustn't laugh.

Mustn't _fucking_ _**laugh**_.

Then Antonio suddenly stopped pulling his lips (_oh thank GOD_) and grinned broadly at me.

'…alright, I think I've thought of something!~ Something really, really terrible! The absolute _worst_ thing that could _ever_ happen to me!~'

'I don't know, you used quite some happy-tildes there.' I asked, raising a cynical eyebrow. 'You _sure_?'

'Definitely!~ The thought I have in mind now is absolutely bone-chilling!~ Nothing could be worse!~' Antonio cheerfully said.

'Nothing could be worse, eh? _Great_!' I said. 'Now make it worse anyway.'

Antonio's mouth instantly fell open.

I smirked.

Ha!

'N-no…'

Ha HA!

'That's right! That mental image _right there_! _That's _what I'm going to do to you if you don't get the fuck underneath the covers here!' I triumphantly said, putting my hands on my waist.

Ahhh, psychological warfare – gotta _love_ it!

'…s-so… that's means… if I _don't_ do what you say… you'll…'

Antonio got up a bit more and gave me this huge, big-eyed _stare_, filled with _dread_ and _fear_.

'…y-you'll flirt with Austria, cheat on me with Gilbert, fall in love with Francis, elope to Mexico with Femke, sell yourself really cheaply to the Netherlands, have a fairytale-wedding with England and… and have nine love-babies with them instead…?'

I stared back at him.

'…nine love-babies?'

He nodded.

'_Nine_?'

'Yes…?'

'…with… Austria, Prussia, France, Belgium, the Netherlands _and _England?'

'Y-yes?'

'A-_all _of them?'

'Yeah…?'

'Holy fucking shit, have you been freaking _tripping on acid _or something?'

Antonio looked startled. 'What? No, no! Why would you think that!'

'Because… _**everything**_ you just told me… is…' I instantly shivered, I couldn't help it, '…is easily the _**sickest**_ thing I've _**ever**_ heard! Since America's douchebaggery attempt to brainwash me with his demonic music samples, that is.'

Seriously – try to beat _that_.

Still, Antonio made an offended face, looking like a bratty little kid who had just been scolded.

'Hey, _you _told me to think of the worst thing that could happen to me and make it even worse! So I _did_!'

'No _shit _you did! _Damn_! Those thoughts of yours – they're _awful_!'

'They are!'

'You should watch that hysterical imagination of yours!'

'I-I know!'

'God, what were you even thinking of _before _I told you to make it worse!'

'Of _you_, falling out of love with me!'

…

…

That surely silenced me.

Which gave Antonio the chance to explain himself.

Which he did.

'That's…'

Antonio now sat up, _really _sat up, _fully _sat up, and continued his slightly embarrassed muttering.

'…that's… that's the most terrible thing that could happen to me, I believe. If you'd fall out of love with me, I… well, I wouldn't know what to do. I really wouldn't know. Even now, as I'm telling you this, I have no idea what I would do if you stopped… feeling for me. Living with me. _Loving _me.'

Oh.

Oh god.

'W-well…'

I harshly cleared my throat and avoided his helpless glance, shuffling closer to him on my knees.

'…f-fuck, now I don't know to feel flattered, concerned or just really _guilty _for letting you think something like that_, _d-dammit…'

'Oh, I think you should feel _very_ guilty,' Antonio determinedly said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, '…_especially_ for forcing me to make that thought even worse! That was just _mean_!'

I frowned, stubborn and skeptical as ever, but I knew he was right.

That… had been kind of evil of me indeed…

I mean, thinking of me, falling out of love with him and falling _**in **_love with the French fuckface… and even getting _**married**_ with the English pervert, to name a few examples…

…

I could feel one of my eyes, twitching.

Holy shit, not even I _myself_ could handle those very thoughts!

I should be fucking _stoned_!

'O-okay, okay, I admit… that was pretty mean of me…' I heard myself mumble.

'It _was_!' Antonio said.

'Maybe I should apologize.'

'You _should_!'

'And I will if you come lie with me here.'

And then I quickly flopped down on my back like the sneaky, trolling asshole I was, getting underneath the covers again.

The Spaniard gaped at me, confused.

'What?'

'Y-you heard me! I won't apologize unless you come _here_ already and rest with me, dammit!' I huffed and pulled up the sheets really far, clumsily tucking myself in without ever taking anything of Antonio's reserved spot.

He kept looking at me, shaking his head in disbelieve.

'Lovino, that's probably the _worst_ attempt to blackmail I've _ever_ heard.'

I narrowed my eyes.

'Oh _yeah_? Well, stay put like that and I'll never call you "darling" again, _either_!'

To that, Antonio _gasped_ in _terror_ in a needless but very _honest_ reaction.

'What! **No**! Wait! D-don't do anything drastic now, Lovi, I'll—'

'JUST GET YOUR FUCKING ASS **HERE** ALREADY!'

'Alright, _alright_!'

And in the mere blink of an eye (he could be so very quick if he really wants to, that lingering dipshit), Antonio just… _plopped_ down on the empty half of mattress next of me, on his face and stomach. Then he turned his head my way.

His eyes gave me a curious, but still somewhat sour stare.

'…okay, I'm lying. What's next?'

'Th-_this_.'

Not even giving him time to deepen his angry frown, I hastily grabbed his share of sheets, pulling them over him as quickly and _smoothly_ as I could (which wasn't too bad if I may say so), and wasted no time in pressing myself flush against him in this little protective cocoon I made for the two us, my arms loosely winding themselves around his shoulders, my chest touching his.

'O-oh.' Antonio stammered, blushing as my face approached his more and more, until I couldn't do anything else but kiss him as passionately as my fever allowed me to.

…

W-which was still pretty _damn_ sloppy and passionately, dammit.

He uttered a surprised little moan and gave another pleasured yelp when I dug my nails in his back for a second and eventually slowly, _very _slowly pulled back, not even paying attention to the thin, wet trail of spit that was now dangling in between our mouths…

…until Antonio went and destroyed the fragile trail by mindlessly pulling me into another impulsive kiss, a kiss I was very happy to answer.

So we kissed again and _kept on kissing_ like that until the both of us almost _choked_, but it was fucking worth it.

I was the first to back off again – just a bit.

'…I'm sorry, darling…' I softly lisped, _panted_ against his now warmer lips, flushing a bit as I wiped the remaining bits of saliva off his mouth, '…I-I'm sorry for making you think those thoughts… I really am…'

'Okay, Lovi…'

Antonio sighed dreamily and I felt he wrapped his arms around me as well, without letting the sheets fall off the both of us.

'I-I forgive you…'

'O-of course you do, y-you wussy bastard.' I commented with a heavy frown, before grabbing him really tightly and snuggling my face against his messy but cozy shirt, preventing myself from uttering a delighted sigh – in the fucking _nick of time_.

Ah.

But this was…

Nice.

…

I liked nice.

**xXx**

For a couple of minutes, I was able to enjoy the wonderful rest that was washing over me in the form of Antonio, warm sheets, the privacy of the room and my slowly weakening fever, and I even closed my eyes, eagerly waiting for the sleep to come and take me away to…

…

…the fuck should I know, dreamland or something, see if I care, as long as I could sleep there, it was _good_.

But, well…

Antonio had other plans, actually.

Because he was beginning to stir and move around, making unsure "uhm" sounds and other noises that could be best described as impatient groans and sighs.

…

_Really _fucking _annoying_.

So I lifted up my face from his chest and stared at him, huffing.

'…what's with the moving, Antonio?'

'Ah, well, uhm…'

He let out a nervous little laugh.

'…I-I think I've rested enough now, so I was wondering if it would be alright with you if I just… went back to the rest right now?'

My facial expression never changed.

'…the _rest_?'

'Y-yes?'

'…what the fuck do you mean, "back to the rest?" Why? And… and there actually is a "rest" in the House?'

He smiled, _endeared_, and patted my head.

'Silly Lovi, did you already forget about Hungary and all the plans she had made for us?~'

'Wait…' I wrinkled my forehead as I thought about his words for a moment, '…yeah, I remember… she had told us something about… making vows and… dance-practices on Wednesday last week…'

'Exactly!' Antonio grinned, '…and that latter thing's _just_ what Hungary is doing right now – giving dance-lessons to all the nations that are going to attend to our wedding!~'

I spread my eyes open. _Wiiiide_.

'…th-they're all _here_?'

'Well, yes.' Antonio said.

'Because of the… _dance-practices_?'

'Yes.'

…

'…well, that certainly explains why Hungary was being so damn upbeat about your big-ass ballroom last Saturday…'

'Well, let's be honest here: it _is_ a _very_ nice ballroom.' Antonio smiled contently.

'So…' I reluctantly pulled back my arms and cleared my throat, '…you're supposed to help her out with the dancing now or what…?'

Antonio upgraded his patting to slowly running his hands through my hair, nodding.

'…I think it's only normal I do that, Lovino. She's the one that's organizing everything, she makes sure everything goes the way it's supposed to go… I mean, she even let the _four _of us go home yesterday, even though there was probably still a lot things left that needed to be done… and she's already been preparing the ballroom for all the other guests since 8 o'clock…'

'…holy _shit_, doesn't she need some _rest_? What the hell _is_ she, a fucking _machine_?' I stammered.

He shook his head.

'No – she's _Hungary_.'

'She sure is! Man…' I sighed and shoved myself away from him even more, '…I-I hate to admit it, but you're right: you'd be a giant bastard if you'd let her teach all those stiff assholes some weird dancemoves by herself. That's like _torture_.'

'Don't overreact now, sweetie.'

'What? Are you telling me that watching Russia do a freaking _cha-cha _with his evil sister _isn't _scarring for life?'

'It's… something else, alright…' Antonio vaguely said.

'It's _unholy_.' I insisted, shuddering as I suddenly imagined England and America, _twisting _through the ballroom.

"_Haha! Twist it!~ Shake it shake it shake it Iggyyyyy!~"_

"_OH SOD OFF!"_

_Huuuuhhh_. Talking about _unholy_...

'Anyway, is it okay with you, my love?'

Antonio softly poked me in the side.

'…can I go help her out?~'

I sighed, kindly pushed away his hand (ticklish there, dammit) and rested my head on my arms, watching him with worry.

'Are you sure you can handle that?'

He smiled broadly and _hop_ – sat up again.

'Ah, now that I know you're recovering? You bet, Lovi!~ I can easily handle that! You know how much I love to show off my dancing-skills, ahahaha!'

I scowled at him.

'The only thing I know is that you're feverish as well. I wasn't fucking lying to you earlier, dammit – you really need to take a break already!'

'I can't leave Hungary alone in this, my love.'

Antonio smiled apologetic at me and pushed away the sheets.

'…I still need to prove to her how much my friendship with her means to me, after all.'

…

'Oh.' I mumbled, nodding understanding. 'I get it.'

'But don't worry!' Antonio hastily continued, very much leaving the bed now, '…I'll make sure to take it easy and return to you every hour or so. Okay?~'

'Every _hour_?' I whined – _manly _whined, of course.

'Yes.' He nodded resolutely. '…Doctor Tosca won't be happy if I keep barging in on you the entire time, and being with me might wear you out only more—'

'Bullshit!' I interrupted.

Antonio carried on like nothing had happened.

'…so I want you to respect my choice, enjoy your rest and… umm… do something useful in the meantime (since you won't sleep anyway), like… sweating out that fever of yours, or writing your vows or something.'

…

Vows.

I paled so _rapidly,_ Einstein would have been amazed.

Crap on a fucking stick.

I hadn't written those damn bitches yet.

GAH.

'Ah…'

Antonio chuckled when he saw my horrified face.

'Looks like you have more than enough to do while I'm gone, sweetie!~'

'H-have _not_!' I loudly protested.

He just smiled some more and leaned towards me to peck me on the cheek.

'Good luck with that, Lovi. See you soon.'

'Y-yeah…' I murmured, bashfully rubbing my cheek and watching him leave the room and softly close the door, as if the _deafening _sound of a closing door alone would already be enough to make my headache worse.

'…see you soon, I guess…'

**XxX**

Shortly after Antonio had fucking _bolted_, I decided to do as he had suggested, which was getting started with my vows already.

…

N-not because Antonio had pretty much asked me to, or… or because it really was about fucking _time _I made some time free for them, but because I had absolutely _nothing_ _else_ to do.

Nothing.

_Nothinnnngggg_.

I mean, I couldn't go to sleep, because I'd need Antonio for that (if I had to be honest, a good _thwack_ to the head would work as well, but considering my current lousy health… naaaah, probably not a very good second option, _let's not do that 'kay thanks fuck off_).

And… I couldn't go help Hungary and Antonio out either, because I was barely able to stand on my own feet, let alone help _others _standing on their feet.

With dancing, I mean.

…

Something like that.

Oh _fuck it_ – I just wasn't good right now, okay?

I sighed deeply as I opened and closed a couple of drawers of the little night table that was officially Antonio's, but unofficially mine, ever since the first night we both agreed on inspecting his bed sheets.

Inspecting them _really _good.

With our naked bodies.

…

To make an unnecessary long story a whole lot shorter, the night table on _this _side of the bed was _mine_ and that's that.

That's why I wasn't too surprised when I actually found some writing paper. Still _mildly _surprised – like Antonio, I'm not exactly the writing-kind of guy – but not as surprised as I would probably have been if I had found the paper in one of Antonio's night table's drawers.

Well.

I took out the notepad/note bloc/writing paper _whatever it was called_ and somehow found a pen somewhere inside the drawer as well (if I had been _anything_ like Feliciano, I'd shout "_Gasp! This drawer! It gives me everything I need! It's a __**Magic (Second-To-Last)**__**Drawer**__! Ohhh!~" _but I _wasn't_ like him, so I didn't – I just _thought_ it).

After that, I just… tossed the writing shit on the sheets, smacked a pillow next to it and then I crashed down on the mattress and pillow, putting the pen in my mouth as I observed the hard, mean, _so very white and empty _paper lying down in front of me.

_Alright_ then.

Here I was.

And _there_ the writing paper was.

…

_Hello_, writing paper.

I'm going to _write on you_.

With a _pen_.

…

A (quick test-scribble on the side) a _blue_ one.

…

Oh, now that I see it from up-close, I think it's the pen I stole from Germany once.

I smirked victoriously. Heh… good luck with signing anything _now_, potato bastard!

…

Oh, who am I kidding – as if he'd miss this pen, Germany's so fucking rich and strict, I bet he produces and poops out millions of pens every fucking minute, so what's one little fucking pen more or less.

…

It's the thought that counts, though. Maybe it was his favorite pen.

ANYWAY.

I was wasting precious time here. I needed to start writing already!

I gazed down at the paper.

…

Yeah…

…

Too bad I couldn't write.

Oh, I could _write_, as in… my name and all, but I couldn't_ write_.

See the difference? Well I do.

I… yeah, I was kind of creative, yeah, I could do some painting, some drawing, some other artsy things…

But I _couldn't fucking __**write**_.

Not a story, not a fairytale – hell, I couldn't even write a fucking _sentence _without losing my concentration.

I guess I wasn't… _focused _enough for that. I wasn't _patient_ enough for that. I just had _zero _talent for that, nada, _zippp_. I didn't have a neat handwriting like Antonio, either.

And on top of that, I was feeling pretty shitty right now as well, which meant I had even _fewer _chances to make something Spanish-mind-blowing.

…

God…

I groaned softly and rubbed my eyes. Everything was getting misty again, d-dammit…

I knew Antonio and Doctor Tosca had both told me it was better to avoid getting swallowed-up in the Spaniard's cheerfulness, but I now suddenly realized that that same cheerfulness had been distracting me from my pains all this time… and now Antonio had taken a hike, the only thing that could distract me now was…

_This damn paper_.

And it wasn't doing a good job, dammit, because I was feeling more and more nauseous the longer I glared at it.

…

Seriously, just what in the world did I have to write now?

How did you _do _that?

Writing vows, I mean. Just… _how_?

I had never written vows before, so yeah… was there a guide for it? A trick, a _secret_? Could I copy-paste some vows from internet, perhaps?

Probably not, huh? Ugh…

I frowned, thought some more and then I slowly took the pen out of my mouth, hesitantly lowering it to the paper.

Okay, let me just try something here…

…

"_Dear darlin—_

NO.

No no no. Everything but _that_.

I swiftly tore the piece of paper off, rumpled it and threw it away.

Okay. Doesn't matter. Here's to round two.

…

"_My sweet betroth—_

NEVER.

_Rip._

Third time's the charm.

…

"_My lovely—_

GAG.

_Rip._

"_To you, my deare—_

Over my STONE COLD BODY.

_Tear._

"_Oh just fuck all of you stupid nations' opinions and let me and Antonio have sex in peace already."_

…

…

Hm…

…

Naaah. Too cryptic.

_Rip_.

There will be child nations and America in the church, after all.

Scratch that – there will be a _church_.

Principles! There they are again! No sexy-talk/cursing in churches, dammit!

…

…

…alright. So…no success so far. Nope.

And one careful, nervous look on the growing pile of failed-vows next to the bed was _more_ than enough to confirm for me what I had feared the most: I sucked at writing even morethan I had _thought _I would. And that wasn't very good to start with, for fuck's sake.

…it was getting a bit depressing now.

…

Shit. Fuck.

I stared at the next, empty piece of paper in front of me and bit my lower lip.

Writing vows was such a pain in the ass when you were, like me, too afraid, too… _self-conscious_ to be able to… read out all those corny, embarrassing cutesy names and things about your lover during your wedding…

_Especially_ when you're a… _certain_ Italian who has been avoiding to call his future-husband these faggish names for… w-well, _years… _not only because they were too damn sugary and therefore _very _unlikely for to be _ever_ spoken through the temperamental Italian's mouth, but also because they were just so very… _private_.

…we're still talking about me here, by the way.

But I was right, right?

It… it actually was _nobody's_ business how I… _saw_ Antonio. What I _felt _whenever he smiled at me, or casually sat next to me on a boring Saturday-night, or held me in his arms at night.

_Nobody_ needed to know all the names I've been dying to call him, but never dared to.

_Nobody _needed to know the way my heart still fluttered and sputtered, every time I was in the same room as him.

_Nobody_ – but Antonio.

A-and if I wasn't able to tell Antonio all these things right in his face, then why would I bother trying to tell in front of all those other nations?

Why would I bother…

…

…

Idea.

Oh god.

I-I actually had an idea what to write.

A very _stupid _idea – and that's why I was planning to write it down.

I didn't even take time to take an encouraging breath as I planted the pen down on the paper so hard I was scared it would fucking rip for a second, but nothing happened and I started writing, writing, writing, everything, everything, all that was now coming up in my head, all that was now shooting through my mind like tiny rockets and firework-things.

I licked my lips as I continued writing, eyes focused on the slowly changing surface of the paper.

Just scribbles. All of these were just… inky _thoughts_, suggestions, I knew that, and yes, I'd correct and rewrite most of it later, probably, but that was not the point – _I just needed to write down my ideas and words right NOW_, now I still had this unsettling clear and determined vision, _quick quick quick_, before I was distracted, before I started thing rationally again, before somebody would

Done.

…

I exhaled slowly

I was _done_.

Not with my vows. Of _course_ not – as if vows could be written by just one sudden moment of creative hyperactivity. _Psssh_. I don't think so.

No, my _idea _was done. That's what was most important right now.

At least I _now_ knew what I wanted to say. What I wanted to _do_. What I wanted Antonio to do.

…

Yes.

YESSSSS.

I wiped my sweaty forehead (writing makes you sweat, who would've thought!) and smiled a silly little smile as I read everything I had just written – written _Kamikaze_-style – over again.

…

Fuck, this was going to sound weird…

_Really_ weird.

Not sure what the others would think of it.

Not… not even sure what _Antonio _would think of it.

But I knew what _I _thought of it.

And I thought… no, _knew _this was the way I wanted my vows to be.

As weird, insulting, awkward and stupid and honest as they were, they were still _mine_.

And they'd know.

Ohhh yes, they'd know.

_Heh_.

I gave a nod to the paper and was planning to continue my proud gloating in many different ways, like grinning _madly_ to my own reflection, or stretching out my arms in front of me and swirl them around in little circles like the bobbin' badass I was while humming on the tune of the Godfather _just because I could_, when…

…

Well. When the _door slammed open_ again, of course.

…

Doors tended to do that in my company, I had learned over the past few weeks.

It was getting old.

…

Still freaked me out every time it happened, though.

**xXx**

Luckily, none of the sudden intruders were paying attention to me and my utterly shocked face (and quick and alert _pounce-move _on my vows-idea in a desperate attempt to hide them) when they waltzed into the bedroom, because the _four_ of them, namely Antonio, Belgium, Hungary _and _Doctor Tosca, were too busy nagging at each other to do so.

…

Wait, I was wrong – the _women _were nagging.

_Antonio_ was getting nagged _at_.

Boy – and _how!_

'…don't _care_ about all of your stupid so-called "duties"! You're supposed to be here with Roma and watch over him! Take care of him! Like good, close lovers are _supposed_ to do, _jij verrekte zot_!' Belgium snarled at the wincing Spaniard, frowning deeply and repeatedly jabbing a finger her finger into his chest like she'd most-likely murderously penetrate a chocolate cake with a fork.

'B-but I was only trying to help out…' Antonio stammered, backing off further into the room.

'Mister Spain.'

Doctor Tosca narrowed her dark, somewhat enlarged eyes at him and clacked her tongue in frustration – still showing little to no emotion while doing so.

Also, _boobs_.

'I thought I had told you to take it easy as well. You shouldn't be downstairs right now. You should rest, just like Mister Romano. Wasn't I clear enough? Should I write it down for you, otherwise?' the young doctor asked.

Antonio gulped and held his hands up defensively.

'I-I—'

Hungary gave him a friendly, kindhearted smile.

'Oh _my_, but I think we were indeed not clear enough for Spain. Let's _**punish**_ him!~'

Antonio made a sound that sounded mostly something like "_urk_!".

Doctor Tosca seemed to like Hungary's plan.

'Alright then, in that case, I think I'll go make a quick phone call to Mister Spain's boss and _complain_ about him.'

Antonio looked _horrified _and desperately reached out a shaky arm to the doctor.

'N-no! Please don't! He and I are getting snapped at more than enough already!'

The women ignored him, except for their _unforgiving _glaring – that just carried on.

Belgium's face had the most serious of the three of them (and _that's_ saying something) and smirked to the others for a bit, before casting yet another sideway glance to Antonio.

'Oh, _I_ know a nice punishment that might work. Just let me go get my brother, a hammer, a crate of tomatoes and the rules of this cute game he used to play quite often when we were younger: _Whack-A-Toma_!'

Antonio's flabbergasted facial expression in reaction to Belgium's threatening words was priceless, really.

'No. Not _Whack-A-Toma_. _**Everything**_ but _Whack-A-Toma_! I know him! He'll destroy my entire harvest! He already did that once when he was younger, that mean punk! I couldn't eat tomatoes for _hours_!'

'Serves you right!' Belgium snorted, pointing at him with one hand on her hips, '…that'll teach you! Leaving poor little Romano all by himself – _shame on you_!'

'You know what else teaches him?' Hungary said, walking towards the now very pale and distressed Spaniard, grabbing the seam of his shirt.

'No, what?' Belgium asked.

Hungary licked her lips.

'_**Taking pictures of his naked body and using them as my Christmas cards**_.'

'GAH!' Antonio and I both very _rightfully_ yelped in agony.

Both Belgium and the doctor stared at the Hungarian brunette, the latter shaking her head critically.

'What?' Hungary pouted innocently, blinking, '…I wanted to be _original _this year!~'

'Then you _shouldn't_ send us Christmas cards with naked men on them.' Belgium said.

'Hmm… you're probably right…'

Hungary thought about it for a minute. Suddenly, she smiled.

'…alright, it's settled then – I'll go for the pics of naked _schoolgirls_ this year!'

Belgium sighed. Doctor Tosca looked… well, the same as always, only somewhat… _mad_.

'Do that and I'll report you, Miss Hungary.'

Hungary just smiled sweetly at her.

'Hahaha, as if I was planning to send _you _a card!~ Don't be silly, Madam Tosca!~'

Doctor Tosca frowned some more.

'Not sure to feel happy or insulted.'

'Welcome to my world.' Belgium muttered under her breath.

…

…

Meanwhile, I was still… here.

In bed.

Watching the weird scene, only wearing that large undershirt, lying in this strange position usually only girls assumed when they were writing in a diary or something: legs swooped up high and all.

…

Strangely enough, nobody paid attention to me or my wonderful legs anyway, so what the heck.

…

But although it was quite amusing to watch the women bicker, I was getting fed up with the constant high, feminine jabbering – _very much _so, especially since they seemed to have forgotten what brought them to the bedroom in the first place, and so had I!

'_Hey_!' I therefore started with a sharp _snap_, '…what the _fuck_ is the damn meaning of this! I'm trying to _recover _here, people!'

To my delight, I was heard by all and shut them all up.

…

That always gave me this nice and fuzzy feeling inside.

Antonio, who suddenly seemed to remember I had been here all this time, gave me a relieved look and quickly hopped on the bed, crawling towards me in _high-speed_ to hide behind me.

'…what are you doing?' I asked with a flustered face, hastily sitting upright and putting away my vows-idea.

'P-protect me, Lovi, they're being _mean _to me!' Antonio whined, grabbing me from behind and pressing his face into my back, '…they're not even letting me help out!'

Belgium gasped. 'Are you _telling _on us?'

'He totally _is!_' Hungary realized, her eyes open wide.

In the meantime, Doctor Tosca observed the four of us with a thoughtful scowl on her blank face, eventually walking over to the door of the bedroom and opening it a bit more.

'Miss Hungary and Miss Belgium, I must ask you to leave.'

'Wh-what?' Belgium stammered, looking at her.

'Why?' Hungary asked.

'Well. Not to be rude, but judging the way things are being discussed now… we're not going to get anywhere. So please, for the sakes of Mister Spain and Mister Romano's health… go downstairs.'

The other women were silent for a moment.

Until Belgium's face lit up again.

'Ah, alright then!~ In that case, I guess I better prepare some tea and cough pastilles for them. Lingering here will indeed get us nowhere!'

'Yes, and I still have so much more to do…' Hungary mused, pulling out a mini remote-headset (you know, the ones usually only directors wore) out of her pocket – her bra was probably already fully loaded – and putting it on:

'…better call Roderich to check if Prussia and France are behaving and not climbing in the curtains again… see you later, guys!~'

And just like that, both females left the room in a surprisingly upbeat mood (women – I'd never understand them), leaving me and Antonio to Doctor Tosca's big-breasted mercy.

Antonio still looked like there was a lot of stress falling off his shoulders with the women's leave though, and uttered a deep sigh, flopping on the mattress.

'…they're finally gone… thank _god_…'

'Seriously, Doctor – what _was _that all about?' I could finally ask the remaining female.

She adjusted her glasses.

'I'm glad you ask, Mister Romano. You see, like _you_, Mister Spain's currently too weak to be able to help Miss Hungary and the other nations out with the preparations for your wedding. He's feverish, shaky and wobbles while he walks, so when Miss Belgium, Miss Hungary and I finally noticed him, we were pretty angry with him for acting so very irresponsible.'

I could feel Antonio huff behind me.

'…just wanted to help, that's all.'

'Well, you tried. And failed.'

Doctor Tosca glared emotionally at him.

'…Mister Spain, if you _really _want to help, you can only do so by staying here, with Mister Romano. Rest a bit. Sleep a bit. Watch some TV, for all I care, but _don't _try to leave this room again before I tell you so.'

'Don't worry – he _won't_.' I said. 'I've been telling him the same and I'll fucking tackle him to the ground if he dares to leave me—t-to leave the _room_, I mean.'

'Very well then.'

Doctor Tosca nodded.

'I'll be counting on you, Mister Romano.'

'Thank you.'

'Don't have sex with him.'

'I-I _WON'T_, dammit!'

'You can never be too sure. It's a very attractive man, after all.'

And with that, she left.

GOOD.


	64. Buns III

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: That's right: Buns III. THE SAGA CONTINUES. _*shot* _I'm out of English butt names – for REAL, this time, so I'll probably won't come up with a new and creative, affectionate name for the wonder that is our lovely ass. __Of course, you can never be too sure about this piece of information since __**I'm**__ the one telling you this (my mind __**is**__ pretty damn perverted, after all) so do not fear – perhaps I'll come up with a new butt song later. Oh joy!~_

_A/n2: Oh, oh! I told you about my haircut a couple of months ago, right?  
__(Just nod. Nodding is good.)  
_…_well, guess what? I went and had another one. Want to know what I look like now? Of course you do! __I look a lot like the female main character of the anime _Kare Kano_ now… hair-wise, that is.  
_…_it's so short. _D: _I want to have __**long**__ hair, dammit! Mermaid hair! Boobs-covering mermaid hair! Yeah, that would be awesome!~  
__But I have the hating-kind of hair, hair that NEVER, EVER does what you want it to, so yeah. What you gonna do? I know what I'm gonna do.  
__Thank god for hair-straighteners. Yup._

_A/n3: Oh, and this guy I like? Turns out he's an Antonio. YES. A really, REALLY dense, Dutch Antonio (now that's an image) who manages to remember my name only because __**his deceased cat had the same name**_.  
_Oh GOD.  
_"_Oh, how cute! That means you two are probably bound to end up together!~" my mom said when I told her that.  
_…_ha, that's my mom – always blowing away people's mind with her (not even that bad-sounding) theories.  
__Anyway – on to the chapter… _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXIV:

_**Hot Buns  
**__**(Foo Fighters)**_

Well, it might surprise you (I know it surprised _me_), but nothing really special happened, the rest of the afternoon.

Just… really _random_ stuff.

Like…

…

…um…

Nothing.

Well, okay, we didn't do much, but we _did_ watch some TV. Antonio had new DVD's of this one American series (_Pals_, or _Comrades_, or _Friends_ was it called, I think – at least one of these three names, for sure) he happened to like watching when there was nothing else on ("Only to laugh at those stupid American weird people, not because I think it's _funny_, Lovi, I _swear_ – ohhh, watch this, this is a great scene, it has that one hilarious guy in it, ahaha!~"), and so, we watched an episode.

…

Okay, maybe two.

Okay, maybe three.

…

Okay, _okay_, so _maybe_ we just shoved all the disks Antonio had into that DVD-player thing (in turns, you moron, not all _at once_) and watched _all_ episodes he had, which were, like, three seasons, while sitting under the warm and comfortable sheets, sometimes stuffing our sick faces with icky cough syrup (Belgium had tricked us into swallowing some of it every hour or two) or giant cough pastilles or nasty herbal tea.

So what?

It… it just happened to be very…

…v-very nice and wonderful to do this with Antonio.

Not because I particularly _liked _the series.

_Tch_. Of course not – way too _mainstream_ for an artsy, _eccentric _guy like me.

No, I was liking all of this because of the… t-the peaceful, carefree atmosphere that was floating in the air.

Because of the fact I could shamelessly lean my head on Antonio's shoulder _without_ immediately getting Antonio's loud cuteness-overload explosion _splashed _all over me (he was watching the TV, you see – and like many other things, it was hard for the dimwitted, slow Spaniard to pay attention to more than just one little something happening around him).

But_ another_ good reason why I was fully enjoying this situation, enjoying it to the fucking _max_, was because I…

…well, because I didn't have to be scared this moment would _pass _anytime soon, since we simply weren't allowed to do anything else but sticking and resting together, doing pretty much _nothing_.

Seriously – was there even a _better _excuse in this world to spend teeth-rotting sugary time together with your hot lover than a direct order from your incredible intelligent and we-even-make-gay-men-watch-us-with-awe-big-breasted doctor?

No.

For me, there wasn't.

So, for once, I was _glad_ to be in this unusual situation, in this bed, with this strange but sweet fiancé of mine, wasting the rest of this already delightfully boring afternoon away with a stupid TV-show, a loose arm around my waist and a big-ass blanket on top of me.

_Fan_-fucking-_tastic_.

And it was even _better_ when, every once in a while, Antonio _suddenly_ turned my sleepy face his way to smile at me and place a gentle but teasing kiss on my lips, purposely lingering on pulling back again, so he had me sighing and flushing and smiling like some shy old maid for at least ten damn minutes before he _eventually_ resumed focusing his attention on his show again – but _not_ without giving me a sly squeeze that promised a _lot_ more where that came from, first.

…

So, _so _very frustrating, you have no _idea_, but also so, _so_ very

_Fan_-fucking-_tastic._

Really.

Tiny, blissful shudders and shocks of genuine contentment with all of this, that could only be the side-effects of all the relaxation and non-perverted-okay-maybe-a-little-perverted pleasure I was currently experiencing, were constantly flashing though me, non-stop, like a…

…a _tidal wave _of bubble baths.

…

That'd be one _crazy_ motherfucker of a tidal wave _but what the hell_, it was just how all of this _felt _to me, alright?

Besides, I like bubble baths.

Which are _very_ manly in comparison to normal fag-baths.

…

Just to let you know.

**xXx**

Well.

I don't exactly know _how_ long Antonio and I stayed in bed like that – time always flies when you're (sneakily) having fun after all – but I _do_ know that at a certain time, shortly after the _last_ episode of the _last_ disk of season 3 of Antonio's silly American TV-show had ended, the not-so-peppy-anymore but still very much alert and awake Spaniard found himself at a loss.

Strangely enough, I found _myself _in a very cozy position, all curled up against him, a dopey smile stuck on my face as I allowed myself to hug his torso, close my eyes and slip away in a hopefully no-doubt awesomely cool dream that featured me and Antonio sexily messaging each other in a non-faggish _**made of solid, rough rocks**_ bubble bath…

…but of course, destiny had something else in mind and the bitch kicked/laughed me in the face as Antonio started to carefully, but not carefully _enough_, poke his damn forefinger in my cheek.

'…Lovi?'

I grunted and groaned, but still opened one eye, looking up at him in silent but very much _present _annoyance.

'…the _fuck's_ the matter, Antonio…'

What? Wonderful atmosphere or not, he should _not_ go around ramming fingers into the faces of almost-sleeping persons like some fucking _assassin_, dammit!

And he should clip his finger nails, too!

'Ah, Lovino…' Antonio gave me a pouty look when he noticed my drowsy expression, '…aww, don't tell me you're planning on sleeping already!'

'Okay, I won't tell.'

I'll just _do _it instead.

I closed my eye again – just one, other one was already closed, after all – and snuggled against him, yawning softly.

'But it's only 7:30, Lovino!' Antonio complained, '…that's _way_ too early to go to bed! Isn't there anything you want to do before you go to sleep?'

'Nope.' I muttered.

'Nothing you want to eat or drink?'

'No.'

'Nothing you want see on the TV?'

'Black screen.'

'_Except_ for the black scree—'

'No.'

'Ah… okay…'

He sounded a bit disappointed.

…

I've never liked the sound of a disappointed Antonio.

And _he knew that_.

…

Evil, manipulating bastard, dammit.

Letting my worry and curiosity win over my wish to go to sleep already, as _always_, I now opened both of my eyes again and shot a huffy glare at the slyly grinning man (I fucking knew it) half-sitting, half-lying next to me.

'…hi, sweetie!~'

I frowned.

'Hi, nail in my coffin.'

'That's not very nice.'

'You aren't very nice either.' I made a long face and rolled on my side, facing his way.

'…look, you should really stop giving my – and _your_! – fever so many opportunities to stand strong till Friday, you damn idiot… or do you _want _me to give you my "I-do" while coughing and smearing snot all over the place?'

'Of course not…' Antonio muttered, sheepishly plucking on the sheets, '…I just wanted to… I don't know, talk some more with you, before we'll turn off the lights and go to sleep… it's one of our last nights as unmarried men, after all!~'

…

Talk.

He wanted to… talk with me.

…

I liked talking.

I liked talking very much, even.

Hell, I could talk for hours if I really felt like talking.

So to me, _personally_, it sounded like a nice and disgustingly cutesy thing to do (which was probably the exact reason why I liked it so much, since I was a sappy, sassy Italian _moron_) : talking about all kinds of things while lying in bed, watching the mysterious darkness of the night around us, our naked limbs and hands shyly intertwined together as we talked about love, sex, life, our fears, our deepest secrets, our hopes and dreams we were hoping to achieve…

Just like those very first nights we spent together.

…

I-I never forgot those nights. They were so warm and safe and seemed to be endless.

…

I'd like to experience them again, too…

It had been a long time since the last time we talked like that, though. Nowadays, Antonio almost always – _whoppa_ – fell asleep _right_ away after sex.

Yeah yeah, sure, he said some wussy things to me, made sure he was holding me and all that kind of crap, and then he'd just… doze off. Like the huge… Spanish _sloth _he was, dammit.

That… well, that _sucked_ sometimes. Pretty damn hard, too.

Seriously, I would lie if I said that I had never wanted to talk on some of those kind of nights… I mean, if we _had _talked during some of these very personal and intimate situations instead of sleeping, I probably wouldn't have needed to make this insane trip around Europe, dammit – no, in that case, I would, presumably, have discussed the topping-matter with him already.

…

And knowing Antonio and his open mind to everything that could pleasure the both of us, that means…

…that means I could have fucked him looong time ago already.

…

…

On the other hand, if I _indeed_ had just discussed (and _executed_) this matter with him during a random late night talk, I wonder if my view on Antonio would have improved as much as it had improved _now_, since my new and better view on him was the result of… hearing all those bad and silly stories, visiting all those wacky nations, exploring his and my boundaries and… getting to know myself and my qualities better…

…

Naah.

Thinking everything over like this, I don't see any reason to regret having travelled around Europe.

If I had a choice to do it all over, I'd do it in a heartbeat, oh yes sirree, I'd—

'Lovi?'

Antonio's bright, green eyes watched me impatiently.

'…I don't want to disturb your… um, creepily _adorable_ little smiling-fest – oh, heaven _forbid_! – but… I'm still waiting for an answer, my love…'

…

…

I finally blinked.

Oh.

Hum.

Looked like I had wandered off a bit too far with my thoughts again.

…

Erhm…

_Quickly_, Lovino! Recover yourself! Recover yourself like only _true _Italians would do!

I instantly made a big and deep frown appear on my face, sat up somewhat more… _provokingly_ and gave Antonio a looooooong, suspicious and boorish look, narrowing my eyes a bit.

'So you want to talk to me, don't you, idiot.'

_Ha_.

Oh god, I was being so fucking Italian right now, I could cry. Really, if the legendary Italian Fighting Spirit could have been a form, it would have formed itself into the shape of _motherfucking Southern Italy_, _**dammit**_.

…

And that was me.

…

You know, it would have been nice if Antonio would have spontaneously _fainted _from all the immense _coolness _I was currently emitting ("Ohhh, Lovino, ohh!~ Your hotness is too much for my frail but crazily wonderful and irresistible body to handle!~ _Catch me!~_"), falling _rrrright_ into my buff but sexy arms as his pants would simultaneously come down a little.

Yeah.

But he didn't.

He was distracted by his hair.

His _hair_.

That was almost _worse _than being distracted by a rock.

…

_Almost_.

'You think I need a haircut?' Antonio abruptly asked me when he noticed I was staring at him (with a _really_ irritated glint in my eyes), '…hmm, yes, maybe I should go see a barber. When I look up, you see, I can see a bit of my curls.'

He gave a demonstration.

…

He was crossed-eyed now.

…

…

Still looking good, though.

Holy _shit_, I bet Antonio was the only person alive to be able to make looking crossed-eyed _sexy_!

_Wow_!

He could make some serious cash with that talent, he could.

…

Anyway.

Looking like a steamy, crossed-eyed hunk or not, he was still working on my nerves.

'Is _that _what you want to talk to me about? Your fantasti—I-I mean _stupid_ hair?' I said with a hiss.

I _swear _to _God _I could literally _see _him immediately forget _all_ about his curls as he… _corrected_ his eyes again, shook his head and beamed an excited grin at me.

'No no, not at all!~ I wanted to talk about something else, Lovi!'

'About _what_!' I persisted, since I knew the flaky Spaniard longer than just today.

He chuckled and his smile shrunk in size, until there was only this dreamy, hopeful smile left.

'I'd like to talk to you about _us_, sweetie.'

I looked up at him in surprise.

'…t-talk about us?'

'Hm-hm!~' Antonio crept closer to me on his hands and knees.

'Like… talk about what the future will bring us and stuff?' I stammered, blushing and feeling flustered when I realized how upbeat my voice suddenly sounded.

'Yup!' He nodded. 'It's been a while, so… why not have a talk like that _now_, hm?~'

I could only smile a very very very little bashful smile that could pass as a grimace as well, actually, if you watched it from a certain angle.

God, I liked having confidential talks with him wayyy too much.

'We're alone up here, after all. We're alone and sickish and nobody is allowed to disturb us from our peaceful time together, so… what do you say?'

Antonio paused in his movements when he was right in front of me.

'…can I seduce you to a night of talking, my love?~'

…

…

'W-wait a minute.'

I raised up a (for some reason shaking) finger and furrowed my brows deeply, ignoring the painful rush of blood my cheeks were greedily collecting again.

'…just to be sure… you're serious about this, right? You really want to have this confidential talk-thing with me, right? You're not just making some weird shit up to have an excuse to keep me awake… right?'

Judging from Antonio's incredibly troubled face, I may have asked one or two questions too many – most of the time he already had a hard time processing _one _question, after all, and these were, like, _three_ questions at the same time, bet he was feeling like he was taking some hard-ass exam – but after thinking about my persistent questions for a while, he decided to answer me.

'…um… yes, I _am _serious about this, yes, I really want to have this talk with you, and yes, I'm also trying to keep you awake as long as possible!~'

He grinned proudly at me, but the grin faded a bit when he saw my pained expression.

'…what, not good?'

I rubbed my temples and groaned.

'…shut up, moron, I'm trying to decide whether I should be confused, appreciate your brutal honesty or smack you in the face for admitting to me you're abusing the fact I like talking for your own benefit.'

He blinked.

'Oh. Is that so?'

'That is so.'

'Oh.'

'…'

'Um… should I wait in the hallway?'

'No, it's important you stay here. You could try to get away in case I choose to smack you otherwise.'

'Ah… I understand.'

'_Do_ you now?'

'…no…'

'Figures.'

Antonio frowned. 'Lovino, just to let you know – I _was _serious about wanting to talk to you. But I'd be lying if I'd deny I didn't want to keep you awake a bit longer, so… it's 100-100!~'

'…100-100?' I repeated slowly.

'Yup! 100 Percent of me really wants to talk to you, and 100 percent really wants to do everything to keep you awake!~'

…

I stared at him.

Then I stared at him some more.

And then I didn't even try to fight it as a tiny little smile on my face started to get bigger and bigger, until I had to hide my face in a pillow in order to avoid embarrassing myself too much in front of Antonio with this _gigantic_ smirk bugging my damn mug.

'L-Lovi?' the Spaniard stammered in the meantime, shaking my shoulders worriedly, '…you okay?'

I stopped my violent and super-manly-and-masculine giggling and lifted my face up, glancing at him with teary eyes.

'…w-why the _fuck_ do I think everything you say or do is _endearing_, dammit… I-I can't even get mad at you for… for…'

I fell silent.

'…shit, w-what was it again I should be mad about because of you…'

'I… _think_ I know. I could tell you that. But…'

Antonio slowly slid off the bed and pointed at the light switch next to the door,

'…I could also just… turn off the lights and start talking with you…?'

I gasped a bit and sat upright, flapping my arms like the weird bastard that I was.

'N-no, no, don't turn them off – just… just _dim_ them!'

'Dim the lights?' Antonio tilted his head questioning.

'Y-yes, that way, we can… you know…'

I timidly looked down, focusing my attention on passionately fumbling around with the sheets,

'…cr-create some nice atmosphere in here… j-just like we always used to do, r-remember…'

'Ah… y-yes, I remember…' Antonio chuckled softly, sounding just as bashful as me, '…that's… that's a good idea, my love… alright, in that case, I'll just do that! I'll dim the—'

'Oh, wait, wait, not so fast, bastard, l-let me organize the bed a bit first…'

Suddenly feeling unexpectedly energized, I hopped up, folded the bed linen as nicely as I could, fluffed the pillows – ALL of them, and yes, my hands indeed felt very tired afterwards since all these pillows and cushions were quite hard and _evil_ – and quickly freshened up myself a bit as well by running a hand through my stubborn hair, fixing my rumpled shirt and diving underneath the sheets again.

After all that, I made myself sit up again and beamed a somewhat _too_ genuine smile at the Spaniard, who was watching me in amazement from the other side of the room.

'O-okay! I'm ready!' I chirped, clasping the sheets between my fingers in excitement.

Antonio didn't know what to say for a moment and just stared at me, biting his lower lip and blushing his damn face off as he suddenly slapped his own face and murmured something to himself.

'…j-just _two_ more nights, _Toño_, just this night and tomorrow night and then he's all over you. C-come on, you can do it…'

I glared at him, but blushed as well and pulled up the sheets some more, until only my head was sticking out of the pile of bed and sheets and comfort.

'…you're really looking forward to me topping you, a-aren't you…?'

Antonio snapped out of it and blinked again, laughing coyly at me.

'I _always_ look forward to making love with you, sweetie. One way or the other.'

'Ah…' I repressed a next smile and awkwardly intertwined my hands together, '…I-I should have known… dammit…'

Antonio dimmed the lights. In the darkened room, I could hear him chuckle again.

'That's okay, Lovi… don't worry yourself, my love. We have a whole life together ahead of us, so you've got plenty of time left to get to know the secret of the wonderfulness of the two of us, sharing the night together.'

…

Th-that Antonio.

A-always pushing the right buttons, d-dammit, even with his words.

I swallowed and breathed in and out slowly, carefully.

'J-just come back to bed already, y-you smooth-talking asshole…'

'I'm on my way, I'm on my way…~'

**xXx**

In a matter of second, Antonio climbed on the bed again, approached my lying figure, slipped underneath the covers and lay himself down next to me, on his side, leaning on his elbow and hand as he and his huge smile looked down to me.

'Hi Lovi!~'

Since I was lying on my back, I couldn't help but huff in protest.

'…s-stupid fucker, you should lie on your back as well, not… not _towering _over me like some kind of… weird _Super Spaniard...__'_

'Towering over you?' Antonio's green eyes spread themselves a bit. '…I just felt like lying like _this_, Lovi, so that I can look at you!~ And you can look at me like this, too! It's a win-win situation, really!~'

I ignored his – actually pretty reasonable – comment and continued my ranting.

'A-and why aren't you lying _left _of me, d-dammit, w-we can't… h-h-hold hands or something like this…'

'Don't be silly. Of course we can.' Antonio calmly said – and I immediately felt a light, soft tickling creeping over me as his fingers traced my torso and halted when they found my left hand, resting on the mattress.

He smiled and slowly slid his hand over mine, pressing his body closer to mine at the same time our rings _clicked~ _together, causing my breath to hitch in my throat and my heart to make a little jump.

'Better?~' he whispered in my ear, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

I nodded, breathed out and closed my eyes for a bit.

'…b-better, yes…'

'You're such a weird, romantic man, Lovino…' Antonio sighed, lovingly squeezing my hand, '…you're probably the only person I know who so intensively enjoys holding hands…'

I just shrugged – as good as I could while in this position – and placed my free hand on the side of his warm face to stoke it, snickering when I felt his temperature rising.

'…well, and you're obviously enjoying my touches to your face way too much, you red-faced wuss.'

Antonio smiled. 'What's wrong about that?'

'N-nothing's wrong about that…' I admitted, crawling closer to him.

'Ah, perhaps that's what makes it so enjoyable…'

'…yeah… hey, Antonio?'

'…yes, sweetie?'

'…p-please hold me.'

Silence.

Until…

'Ah… your wish is _my _wish, my lovely love…'

The Spaniard let himself fall down on the mattress completely, turned me on my side as well and wrapped his other arm around me, never letting go of my left hand as he pushed himself against me, his long legs fitting perfectly in-between my own.

I felt the sides of my mouth moving upwards again and uttered a blissful sigh, allowing him to spoon me to his heart's content.

'…and now?' he mumbled in my hair.

'Now…' I muttered, '…now just… be quiet for a second.'

'I'm not letting you fall asleep yet, Lovi…'

'I know – and I'm not talking about _that,_ you annoying jerk.' I grumped, '…I-I just want to… e-enjoy lying here with you in rest and peace a little bit longer…'

'Ah… I see.'

'Hm-hm…'

'…do you mind if I kiss you a bit, sweetie?'

'…n-not if it's really "just a bit"…'

'It _is_ just a bit.'

'…go on then…'

'Alright…'

I felt Antonio grabbing the collar of the shirt I was wearing, grabbing it _with his teeth_, and let out a shivering little moan when he tugged it down a bit and started pressing sweet, short yet _hot _kisses in the back of my neck.

'Th-thin ice, buddy…' I managed to stammer.

Antonio only laughed – but kept his promise and didn't try to go further.

And like that, we… stayed put for a couple of minutes. Not talking – just… well, just enjoying each other's company.

Meanwhile, I was busy trying to think what Antonio and I could discuss, naturally, b-but I was a bit distracted by the Spaniard's kisses and… and some music I could hear, coming from downstairs.

'Y-you hear that?' I asked Antonio.

After a last kiss and nuzzling touch to my skin, he pulled away from my neck.

'…ah, you mean that music, my love?'

'Yeah… what could it be?'

'You don't know? It's that dance-practice, Lovi… it's still going on, apparently…'

'I wonder how long they'll continue, dammit…'

'Is it bothering you?' Antonio's hand gave mine another squeeze. '…you know, if you want me to, I can go downstairs and tell them to stop…'

I made an angry face and clasped his knees in-between my thighs, like a… a _killer_ _oyster!_

A _mad _one, too!

'You're not going _anywhere_.' I hissed.

'_Ouch_!' Antonio's body tensed.

'Am I _clear_?'

'Ow, ow! Y-yes, you are clear! Chrystal clear! I'm not going anywhere! Ow – please let go, you're hurting me!'

'Wussy.' I snorted, but let go of him.

'Y-you have such soft, but _sharp_ thighs, Lovino…' Antonio whined behind me, hastily pulling his legs away from mine.

'Soft but sharp thighs?' I clacked my tongue. 'That makes no sense. Just call them my _killer-oyster-thighs_.'

Antonio pouted – I knew he did.

'…but I don't want to call your delicious thighs that smell so nice when my head's between them killer-_oyster_-thighs… more like… killer-_spice_-thighs…'

Blood rushed to my head again and I jabbed an elbow in his ribs.

'…s-shut up, dammit, y-you oversexed, disgusting pervert…'

He started to laugh and hugged me a bit more, his arms holding me very firmly as his legs sneakily wound themselves around my own again as the sly bastard-legs they were, and he sighed quietly.

'…ah, sorry, Lovi… sorry… I'll be good, okay? I'll be good…'

Despite my sky-high pessimism (like _hell _he'll be "good"), I still was more than happy to just… stop frowning, give in and let him have his calm and romantic ways with me, since… well… why not, really… I-I liked being close and intimate with him like this, so y-yeah…

In the meantime, the music that was being played downstairs was still very good to hear. I couldn't really hear _what_ songs were played, but judging by the light sounds of pianos and violins, I was putting my money on classical music.

…

I loved classical music.

And yet, I couldn't even join the practices.

That sucked, especially because it sounded like Hungary and the others were having a great time dancing their asses off and breaking the whole damn ballroom apart with their murderous quicksteps and cha-chas, dammit…

I wanted to start complaining about it (that's what I have a major in, after all), but my thoughts and feelings were abruptly forgotten when I noticed a particular deep and depressing groan coming from Antonio's lips.

Oh.

He was bummed out as well.

…

Maybe even more than me.

…

'You're having a hard time, aren't you?' I found myself asking him, after a loud and joyful applause was heard from downstairs when a song ended.

Antonio nodded, his chin moving up and down the back of my head.

'…ah, well… it's just… It's such a shame you and I can't be part of the dancing. I really like to dance, I really, really do – it was thanks to dancing you and I got together in the _first _place, after all! – so… I can't say I feel too happy to hear the others having fun…'

'Oh.'

I thought about his sad muttering for a moment.

'…I-I could make a prank call, you know?'

Antonio let out a short laugh. 'A prank call, sweetie?'

'Yeah, I could… call to a couple of nations downstairs and say "_**seven days**_" in a really creepy and raspy voice before hanging up again and _bam_: stress and panic everywhere! No more dancing!'

'…naaah…' Antonio chuckled and rubbed his face in the crook of my neck, '…it's a very nice idea, but it would ruin the mood during our wedding a bit too much, I'm afraid…'

I frowned. 'You're probably right – hearing one nation chatter with his teeth in pure agony during the ceremony is more than enough. A whole church full of Latvia's would be… well, a very instrumental, musical version of… "Fear".

'…"Fear"?'

'You know. Fear. The human emotion.'

'There's a instrumental musical version of that? I had no idea!~'

'…never mind, Antonio, never mind…'

For a very short moment, the room filled itself with silence again.

'Hmmm…' The Spaniard then mumbled, '…what about _you_, Lovino?'

'_What _about me?' I asked.

'Do you miss it? The dancing?'

I snorted. 'Of _course _I miss it. Don't you dare thinking I wouldn't have liked to dance with you tonight, dammit… But you heard the boob—I mean, doctor: we should take it easy and just rest for the rest of the night.'

'I know…' Antonio sighed.

'And as much as I hate to admit it – she's right.' I carried on, lifting our connected hands up to fumble and play around with the silver band around Antonio's ring finger.

'…I-I mean, I'm actually feeling a whole lot better again, in comparison with yesterday. That means Doctor Tosca's theory is working. At least a little bit. So if we just… do what she says and rest for the rest of the night, we'll be fit again in the morning.'

'Ah? Well, that's an interesting thing you're saying…' Antonio said – and I could feel his mouth, smiling in my neck.

I deepened the slight frown in my forehead. 'What do you mean?'

'…no no, I can't tell you, you'll figure out soon enough, my love.'

He gave me a reassuring hug.

'…I can only promise you that we'll _definitely_ get our chance to dance again… maybe even sooner than you think.'

'…you _know _we can't leave the room tonight.' I huffed.

'We _won't _leave the room tonight.' he simply said.

'And we're probably not allowed to dance right now, right here either.'

'We _won't _dance right now, right here.'

'…well, now I'm confused.' I grumped.

'Don't be, sweetie – don't worry your charming little head about it. For now, just give me a subject we can talk about tonight!~'

I smirked. '…jumping over to another subject, aren't you?'

'Pretty much.' Antonio admitted. 'I'm shocked you can tell.'

'Shut up.' I giggled – okay, that's _it_, the next time I started giggling like a little girl I'm pounding my fist in my mouth, dammit – but complied with his request and attempted to roll back on my back again.

Antonio felt – and gave me some more space to let me.

'A-alright…' I started, tapping the side of my yawn, '…just let me think of something…'

…

The truth is I already had thought of something.

Even _before_ I had rolled on my back again.

**xXx**

'…okay, I have something I'd like to know of you.' I decidedly said, after an unnecessary long pause.

'You have? Great!' Antonio grinned, rolling on his stomach. '…fire away then…~'

…

I gave him a weary glare.

'…just… just promise me you won't start to complain, or groan, or laugh when I ask you this.'

'Of course not, Lovino.' He smiled.

'I'll fucking break your penis if you _do_.' I nevertheless warned him.

He _shuddered_.

'…h-honestly, L-Lovi, even though I know you're just kidding, you should _really_ stop threatening to do the most awful things to my favorite organ… it scares me! You know how much it means to me.'

'I do.' I nodded in all seriousness.

Antonio pouted.

'You're mean.'

'I-I'm not mean at all!' I immediately protested, '…I just want to make _sure_ you won't give me that annoying "ohh-here-we-go-again"-look when I ask you this!'

'I won't, Lovi.'

I looked at him, hesitating.

'…you won't?'

'I won't.'

'You'll listen to me?'

'Yes.'

'I won't need to break your penis?'

'My penis and I sure hope so.'

'Good. In that case…'

I took a deep breath and looked away from him, deciding to aim all my attention of our still very much intertwined hands and fingers instead.

'…wh-what do you like so much about me…?'

And once again, a short but for some reason _loaded_ silence washed all over us.

**xXx**

I bit the inside of my cheek as I waited for Antonio to answer me.

I…

Well, I was nervous.

I-I know, I had asked him this question lots and lots of times already and even though the answers he always gave me never failed to make me feel loved and understood…

…m-my frail self-esteem still was, even after all this time, shaped in its most vulnerable, tender form whenever I asked him this particular question.

T-that's why I always wanted to make _sure _he wouldn't try to make a joke out of it, before I'd ask him this question…

'…hm…'

My heart made a little flip when I heard Antonio's first, softly spoken word, but I kept quiet.

'…what I like so much about you…' He chuckled gently. '…I admit, it's been a while since the last time I've named that huge list of reasons why I'm loving you with every little piece of me…'

I breathed out slowly – and _delightedly_.

Hearing him start like this always soothed my sometimes paranoid mind, soothed it _right _away…

I felt a little spark shooting through my cheek and veins when Antonio's hand was placed on the side of my face, carefully turning it his way, so his great, bright eyes could look at me as he smiled lovingly.

'H-hi.' I mumbled stupidly.

'Hi.' He smiled some more. '…this is already _one _thing I like so much about you.'

'…w-what?'

'The fact that you never fail to amuse me.'

Antonio chuckled and traced his thumb over my cheek.

'…you're so _funny_, Lovino. You've got so much humor and silliness in that handsome body of yours that I can't imagine anybody who knows more ways to make me smile, laugh and have a good time.'

'You laugh about _everything_.' I snorted. 'It's really a fucking piece of cake to make you laugh.'

'You'd think so, right? Ah, I guess that's right… but most things quickly bore me after the laugh's over. _You_, however… never bore me. I always feel the biggest smiles tugging on the corners of my mouth whenever you're around, my love… and when that happens, they never falter.'

'…that's good to know…' I muttered.

'Right?' Antonio said, '…and that's not all, of course… there are a lot more things I like… no, _love _about you, as you probably already are very much aware of.'

'Of course.' I huffed. 'B-but I won't stop you if you're going to… you know, name them again…'

'Okay… well…'

He shuffled closer towards me and ran a hand through my hair.

'…better prepare yourself then…'

**XxX**

My unsure body.

My hesitant smiles.

My unpredictable temper.

My unreasonable protests.

My critical frowns.

My flustering face.

My careful touches.

My stubborn voice.

My honest heart.

My eyes.

Legs.

Personality.

Unconditional love for art.

Unconditional love for curious architecture.

Unconditional love for _him_.

…

…

N-no, Antonio certainly didn't hold back when he told me about everything he loved about me.

And I was glad he didn't, because even though I knew all of this, even though I was, just like he had said, already very much aware of his feelings about me, very much aware of his love for me, very much aware of the honestly and trust and other corny crap that fluttered around me when he told me this…

…th-that didn't mean I couldn't grab an opportunity to _listen _to him telling me this every once in a while…

I loved it.

I loved the way he told me all of this.

I loved the tone of his voice when he told me all of this.

I loved the way he sometimes just _smiled_ at me instead of explaining something.

And…

The thing I probably loved the most about him was…

…he always came up with something new.

Always.

The list always grew longer.

Always.

Always.

And always.

**xXx**

It was around 11 o'clock already (I can't stress my fucking perfect love for my alarmclock enough) when Antonio finally stopped talking about me – and when I finally realized I was, for some reason, lying on top of him, my arms tightly wrapped around him, my red-hot face pressed to his raising and lowering chest, smiling and smiling and smiling so much, I actually think it would have put Antonio's happiest smile to shame.

I lifted my head up a bit to give a questioning look at him – are you finished yet, c-can _I_ start my love-rant about you now? – when I was met with…

Open-mouthed snoring.

…

…

Yeah.

Apparently, Antonio had fallen asleep.

…

Or he was doing a fantastic job impersonating one of those flesh-eating flowers.

With closed eyes.

And sounds that went like _ggggrrrrroooooaaaaah, gggggrrrrrroooooaaaaaah._

…

I made a long face.

That was just wonderful.

Here I was, ready to spill my love and admiration and some more or maybe a whole lot more love about him all over him, ready to watch his beautiful face light up, ready to exchange some kisses and hugs and quasi-innocent comments with him…

…and he went fucking_ ggggrrrrroooooooaaaaaah _on me.

…

…

Oh well, what you're gonna do about it…

I sighed, but settled myself on Antonio's chest again and yawned, closing my eyes.

Patience, Lovino.

There's always your wedding night.

**xXx Days before the Wedding xXx**

_**Thursday**_

Just when I was enjoying a wonderful dream, a dream in which I_, fuck yessssss_, could _finally_ enjoy some nice Antonio-massaging (hooray for lucid dreams!), a soft, but persistent hand started shaking my shoulders back and forth, back and forth, until there really was no other choice for me but waking up.

_Gaaaaaaah_…

In the faint, dark-bluish light of the morning, I couldn't see much, but still enough to visualize Antonio's excited, yet somewhat drowsy face in front of me, looking like he had won the fucking lottery when he saw me waking up.

'Ah, good-morning, sweetie!~'

I blinked, trying hard to open my eyes a bit more.

'Goodmorningbasssstard…'

'Hey, are you ready, my love?' he asked me, his eyes big and sparkly as always.

'Tofucking_kill_youforwakingmeupthissssearly…?' I kept on slurring.

He chuckled and shook his head, sitting up – and letting my face sliiiiide off his face really weirdly for a bit, before grabbing me and pulling me up, friendly but _surely _forcing me to sit in his lap.

'No, for going downstairs!~'

I awkwardly steadied myself on his lap (fucking morning wood getting in the way), rubbed my eyes, stared at him and glanced to the best alarmclock in the whole fucking world.

5:53 AM.

…

_5 fucking 53_—correction, _54 AM_.

WHAT.

'…are you out of your fucking _mind_?' I hissed at Antonio when I turned my face back to him with a jolt, '…it's not even fucking 6 o'clock yet and you're talking about _going_ _downstairs_ already? What are you, _German_?''

'I don't think so!~' Antonio grinned. 'And neither is my wallet.'

I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Then _why_. WHY, Antonio, WHY do we have to go downstairs this early!'

He smiled mysteriously.

'Remember that talk we had last night?'

I needed a little more time to be able to recall last night… but when I did, my face instantly grew warmer, and I swallowed.

'…y-yes, you were telling me very nice things about why you love me so much and… and that was wonderful. But then you dozed off, before I could tell you my reasons why I-I'm loving _you _so much, and…'

I spread my eyes open wide.

'…god _fuck _no, you're not telling me I have to discuss that with you _now_, are you? I'm barely awake!'

'Naaah…' Antonio gave me a resigned smile. '…unless you _want_ to tell me, of course.'

'…I'll think about it.' I huffed. '…but if _that's_ not the reason why you woke me up, then wha—'

'Do you want to dance with me, Lovino?'

…

I stared at him again.

'…w-what?'

'It's morning. It's not longer Wednesday-night.'

Antonio slid his hands up and down my sides and pulled me closer.

'…and we're probably going to have a very busy day today, too, so… what do you say? Want to have… _this_ _dance_ with your fiancé, my love…?~'

…

…

Well.

Try saying no to _that_.


	65. Cushion

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Allow me to wish you guys a _**very happy and merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year!~ **_I hope 2012 bring a lot of happiness and joy to all of us, and I hope I'll graduate this year, because school's been bugging me a bit too much lately. Gaaaah. Pain in the rear.  
__Also – happy holidays! I'm free from school the upcoming two weeks! **FREE!~** You know what that means, right? Right! Visiting friends and working my ass off to make some LOOT! So that I can buy stuff! And pay my bills! Hooray!  
__And… hey, wouldyalookatthat!~ A brand-new butt song! Oh, how wonderful! How nice! How mind-blowing!~ It's a really disgusting one, too!~ _*dances*

_A/n2: __**I won't be updating next week, because I need a break. Really.**__ Now, don't worry – the week AFTER next week, I'll update again. It's just that I'd like to do a lot of fun things with my friends and work __**and**__ do some shit for school the following week(s), so I hope you understand._^^  
_Of course, I'll make sure the next chapter is worth waiting for!_ 8DDDD

_A/n3: So I told him. You know. That guy I've been talking about the last couple of weeks.  
__After last week, I decided to gather my courage and tell him – and so, I actually did.  
__On Thursday. When I was in the middle of teaching "my" kids/students something about Serious Request (it's an annual thing here in the Netherlands: 3 radio-DJ's lock themselves up in a Glazen Huis – Glass House – and try to collect as much money as possible for a good cause, for six days – without eating, just drinking suspicious juices).  
__Anyway, while the kids were busy, I took a quick break and went to the canteen to score some tea – and yes, there he was.  
__Mister Dutch Antonio.  
__And then, **suddenly**, **impulsively**, I kind of kidnapped him to the **toilets **(like a **boss**) and confessed right then and there I liked him.  
_…_annnnd he told me he didn't like me back.  
__So yeah, I got rejected. I kind of blame the stinky toilets. Damn you, toilets.  
_"_But hey, we can still be friends!" he promised me with a dazzling, yet awkward smile.  
_"_Sure!" I awkwardly laughed back – and then I **fucking took off with the speed of light**.  
_…  
_Not exactly the best day of my life, but… well, I'm over it already, actually.  
__Isn't that weird? Now, I wonder if I ever was in love with himin the first place, or just in love with the **idea** of being in love with him.  
__Who knows? Love's such a strange, strange phenomenon._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LV:

_**Smell the Cushion – Karen's Song  
**__**(Ape Fight)**_

Well, we all know just how _rock-hard _and _unbreakable _my willpower is.

So just a few moments and several sweet, slimy compliments and pleas later, I found myself following Antonio through the one of the many dark hallways of his House, my hand in his as he glanced at me from the side and smiled.

'…ah, I _knew_ you'd like to dance with me as well, my love, I just knew it!~'

…

…

Yes yes, spare me from your stupid nagging – I'm a weak and pathetic bastard and my willpower has the same strength as a fucking paper tissue. I _know_.

…and judging by Antonio's confident comment, _he_ knew as well.

Joy all over.

_Not_.

…

But… but hey, I-I already _told_ you it would be very hard to say no to that annoying Spaniard! _Especially _for me!

Why?

…

Holy shit, didn't you pay attention to him at _all_? Have you ever even _seen _that damn _face_ of his? _Christ_!

…

I- I mean, _ohhh_, I'll _tell_ you why, dammit.

…

…y-you see, saying "no" to Antonio has always been one of the more… difficult things to… _accomplish_ in my life, because it's… it's just really, _really _awkward and weird to say no to a man with such a handsome, lovable and friendly puppy-face as Antonio's. It is.

…

And besides, putting his fucking awfully good-looking face aside…

…I just happened to like dancing. Like it a _lot_.

Even at six in the morning.

And, _well_, what do you know, I happened to like Antonio a lot, too.

Even at six in the morning.

And yes, I _also_ liked the thought of me and Antonio dancing together. I liked that even _more_.

Only in _this_ concept, though.

Which was at six o'clock in the _**motherfucking goddamn morning**_.

_Gaaaaaaahhhh_.

But yeah, anyway, like I said – in the end, here I was, following Antonio to the ballroom at 6 o'clock in the morning, like a tame sheep would follow its shepherd around the flowery fields or meadows or… or _whatever_ those damn beasts and smelly people were running on all day long.

And after waking up a bit more, I actually was _fine_ with this whole dancing idea of his, too. That's the magic of love and a _serious_ lack of sleep, I guess.

…

Still, I was mad at myself for having given in so fucking easily to him, _again_, and therefore I was being moody and making really sour faces at him as we (quietly) walked down the hall.

But for some reason, grumpy mug or not, _Antonio's_ smile never changed or went away. No – it only _increased_ in happy intensity and I could feel my face glowing up in repressed excitement when the Spaniard pulled me closer, suddenly wrapping an arm around my waist.

'Thank you very much, sweetie.'

I looked at him, a bit confused.

'What the hell are you thanking me for?'

'Ah, well… for doing this with me. For going to the ballroom with me.' He chuckled. '…I know you're not a morning person and I know you're probably glaring daggers at me when I'm not looking your way – no no, don't try to deny it, sweetie, I've seen it before – for dragging you out of bed this early right now, but… ah, it makes me feel so… so _special_ and _important_ when I realize you're _still _willing to come with me, despite of all that…'

I stared at his overjoyed and delighted smile in the dusky light of the morning twilight and felt myself opening my mouth automatically.

'But you _are _special and important.'

Antonio blushed heavily and looked away from me, his smile still big, bright and beautiful.

'You _know_ you are.' I insisted – and shuffled closer to him, frowning. '…you _do _know that, righ— h-_hey_, don't look away from me, you big _wussy_, look at _me_, look at me when I tell you this, dammit!'

Startled by the unusual command almost as much as I was, he _immediately_ turned his face back to me, looking surprised, but in a very good way.

'You… want to tell me something, Lovi?'

'Y-yes.'

I took a semi-deep breath as I locked my eyes with his.

'…y-you're a very special and important person, Antonio. A-at least… to _me_, you _are_.'

'Lovino…'

Antonio's hand caressed my side and I could feel he was trying to press my body against his now.

'…a-and…' I hastily carried on, '…and I think I'll tell you that more often from now on. You need to know that. You _deserve_ to know that. M-more than anybody else I can think of.'

'Lovi… you…'

I gnawed my bottom lip as I continued.

'I-I mean… y-you're going to be my _husband_, for God's sake… my own, sweet, caring husband… th-that's a _big_ step in our lives, Antonio… it-it takes a lot of responsibility, too… so… so that's why… I'm going to take good care of you, o-okay?'

As soon as our bodies connected, thanks to Antonio's constant attempts to pull me against him, I quickly threw my arms around him, gently pushed him to a wall and hugged his torso, my eyes closed firmly.

'I-I've decided. I-I'll take good care of you, d-dammit… of your heart, your hopes, your wishes, your feelings… I'll do whatever I can to be a man that's worthy of calling himself… _yours_. I _promise_ you that. I-I promise, Antonio…'

Antonio, who was a bit overwhelmed in the _best possible ways _by my sudden outburst, didn't really know what to say to that and just let me hug and cuddle him for a while, eventually holding and touching me as well, the palms of his hands drawing soft, slow circles on my back.

Then, I heard him laugh – quietly, carefully.

'…L-Lovi, what a… lovely confession all of a sudden, my love…'

I lifted my face somewhat, resting it on his chest.

'Y-you believe me, right? You believe I'll take care of you… right?'

Antonio's smile grew wider and his face flushed even more – it really was quite a sight.

'…silly Lovino…'

He sighed and _squished _my face flat against his chest again.

'…o-of course I believe you'll take good care of me… As if I ever doubted that, sweetie, you're the kindest person I know…'

I frowned when I heard that – and struggled to get my face out of his yummy—I mean, broad—I mean, very _normal_ and standard, run-of-the-mill chest in order to regain my ability to talk.

'It's… it's just that…' I started muttering, '…I-I'm not stupid: I _know_ what my face looks like, most of the time—'

'Beautiful.' Antonio cut me off with a gentle smile, raising one eyebrow.

My own blush was beginning to act up again now, but I still huffed at his comment.

'…n-no, you moron, it always looks like one of a fucking pissed-off little brat that needs to take a fucking _dump_, dammit! So…'

I gulped a weird, lumpish thing down my throat.

'… w-what I'm… _really _long-windedly trying to tell you is… w-well, I don't want you to ever… I don't know, think depressing thoughts because of my facial expression, because… I-I love you.'

I looked him in the eyes again.

'…v-very much. Regardless of the way I might glare at you, I still… I still love you.'

Antonio just looked back at me, not saying anything. I felt he locked his hands and fingers right behind my neck.

'…that's why I'll tell you I love you and… and all that romantic crap more often from now on. And I'll—'

I couldn't carry on with my well-meant sentence, because Antonio all of a sudden pressed our lips together and gave me a wonderfully long, openmouthed kiss – and he didn't pull back before my hands were gripping his shirt and my eyes were slowly closing themselves.

_Then _he pulled back.

Of _course_ he then pulled back.

The mean bastard.

'You can tell and call me everything you _want_ to tell and call me, Lovi…' he mumbled with a coy grin, tickling the back of my neck, '…I'll be happy to listen to it. But don't force yourself into doing something you're not used to, my love… don't change. You don't need to change for me. And besides, having that said…'

He laughed a bit harder now, after placing a sweet little peck on my cheek.

'…I _think _I know you long enough now to know what amazing and fantastic qualities and emotions are hidden behind that beautiful frown of yours, Lovi…'

I stubbornly wrinkled my forehead, pouted and looked away.

'…y-yeah, well, I'm _still_ going to fucking compliment you more often from now on, dammit, whether you fucking like it or not, you fucking fuckfaced fucker.'

Antonio chuckled. 'Well, that does it. You've completely convinced me.'

'You fucking bit my lip, by the way.'

'I did? Ah, sorry for that… let me see…'

He slid his hands to the sides of my face and tilted it back a little bit, his eyes critically observing the tiny cut in my lip.

'…w-well?' I murmured.

'…yes, that's a cut, alright… it's very small, though.'

'It still hurts, dammit!' I snarled, grabbing his wrists, '…you _know_ the tiniest wounds hurt the most! Like bumping your toe to a chair or door! _God _that hurts! Like you're freaking _dying_!'

Antonio had to purse his lips (and knowing that bastard, that was in order to avoid bursting out in laughter).

'…d-dying, Lovino? Really? Even when it's the littlest one?'

'_Especially_ when it's the _littlest _one! Oh, the shittin' _agony _of the thought alone!'

'Alright then, what can I do to erase the immense lip-pains you're currently going through?' Antonio asked with an escaped and very amused chuckle.

I stared at him for a while.

Then my cheeks started burning some more.

Then I turned my head away from him.

Then I cleared my hoarse throat.

'…iss it b-better, d-dammit…'

He made a weird face and leant towards me.

'Piss _what_ better, Lovi?'

…

…

Wha…

Are you fucking _kidding_ me?

'O-oh, for heaven's sake… K-_kiss_ it better, okay? _**Kiss**_ it better!' I loudly snapped at him, accidentally shooting so many embarrassed and angry glares at him, it actually pained my eyes.

Antonio blinked.

I didn't have a lot to do either, so I blinked as well.

'O-oh, a-and I love you, by the way.'

Antonio blinked even _more_ now, but he had to laugh and blush to that as well and he nodded cheerfully, leaning to me just a little bit more to kiss me again. He even made sure to gently swirl his tongue over my cut a couple of times before bluntly _plunging_ it into my mouth, and he continued to kiss me like this until I couldn't feel that cut in my lip anymore.

Or my legs and knees, for all that matters.

'…I-I really do, d-dammit…' I panted heavily when he stopped.

Although Antonio also was pretty out of breath, I could still hear him chuckle.

'…I'm very much aware of that, my love… you really don't have to tell me tha—'

'I don't _care_, I-I'll _still_ tell you, y-you damn bastard…' I growled, vaguely wondering why my vision was so very cloudy and misty and watery all of a sudden, '…a-and I don't care if you kiss me a fucking thousand times more to try shut me up. I'll keep on telling you that if I want to tell you that. You need to know it. I… _I _need you to know it.'

He got silent again and held me a little bit firmer now.

'I love you.' I muttered again and clutched the fabric of his shirt between my fingers.

'I-I love you. I love you so fucking much. And it's… it's still so very _awkward_ for me to tell you these words so many times, s-so awkward… and I know _you_ know I still have issues with saying these words so very easily, and that you respect that, b-but… but I feel my heart might _burst_ if I don't tell you I love you more often. I-I feel like I need to fucking make up already for all those times I wanted to say "I love you" but _didn't_, just _didn't_, a-and I hope you can forgive me, f-forgive me for every single time I didn't, because b-believe me, _please_, I-I wanted to, I really, _really_ wanted to, but I couldn't, I-I _couldn't_…'

'Calm down, sweetie. I understand. I understand…' Antonio gently mumbled, kissing the tears from my cheeks.

'…I-I love you, dammit…' I let out a strangled gasp, or choke, or whatever it was, '…l-love you w-with everything I have inside of me…'

His lips curves upwards, just a bit, and he nuzzled the side of my face, breathing out softly, his voice barely a whisper.

'I love you too, my lovely, awkward Lovino.'

**xXx**

Because I didn't really knew what to do with myself after my heartfelt confession – m-my eyes kept stinging for some reason – I hastily told Antonio to just... j-just ignore those stupid tears and weird voice of mine of and just drag me along with him to wherever he wanted to drag me along to.

But Antonio shook his head and said we weren't going _anywhere_ until I had calmed down some more and stayed put, right where he was, fondling me and my still trembling body until the thick fog in my head _finally_ cleared up, until I _finally_ looked up at him and asked him what the fuck we were still doing in the damn hallway, just a few meters away from Feliciano's bedroom.

'I mean, for fuck's sake, do you _want_ them to come out – _butt-naked_ – and follow us to the ballroom?' I nagged at him.

The Spaniard only smiled faintly and wiped the last traces of tears from my face, shaking his head again.

'No. I want to go and be there with _you_ right now. _Just_ you, my love.'

I gulped and fought against yet another bright blush that was dying to color my face.

'…n-now, what are you waiting for then, dammit…'

'For you to be ready for this.' He sounded serious. 'So… _are_ you ready, Lovi? _Really _ready?'

I rolled my eyes. 'I-I _am_, dammit…'

'No more tears?'

'N-no more tears.'

'Is that a promise, sweetie?'

'You're annoying.'

'Is it, Lovi?'

I glared at him.

'…fine, you dipshit, it's a promise. Just like the fact I'll stomp my _heels_ into your damn _face_ if you don't get a fucking move on already!'

Antonio's stern face faded away when he heard that and made room for a more relieved, cheerful expression.

'Well, that's all I needed to know!~ I don't want you to be weeping in the ballroom like some sad willow, the floor has just been waxed, after all.'

My jaw dropped. 'Why you evil motherfucke—'

'Kidding, Lovino, just kidding… ah, you're so _touchy_!~'

He snickered, evaded my incoming Fist of Fury, grabbed both my hands right after that, brought them to his mouth and kissed them, before letting one of them go and softly pulling the remaining one.

'…now come with me, sweetie. I'll make sure you'll have a great time, okay? Come.'

…

…

Reluctantly, I gave in.

**xXx**

Now…

This may sound silly and very weird, I'm very much aware of that, but…

It had been a long time since the last time Antonio and I had visited the ballroom.

I… actually couldn't even _remember_ the last time Antonio and I had visited the ballroom…

Of course, I knew we had been there before a couple of times before last year, with the dancing and Austria's stupid party or ball or whatever it was, and Antonio had taught me how to dance back then, looking _smoking hot_ with his awesome body in those perverted, _tight _dancing clothes of his…

…but I believe we danced a bit in the ballroom _after_ Austria's ball as well. If I really thought hard about it, I think we also danced a few dances in the ballroom when Antonio was celebrating his birthday… or when we were celebrating my birthday… I'm not sure, but it was one of these two possibilities, definitely.

In the end, we both enjoy dancing – so we probably would have danced a whole lot more if destiny had let us, but destiny, who had never been a good bitch of mine, decided to happily jab a knife in our backs instead and _boom_, all of a sudden, Antonio got very sick, very _very _sick, the "I-can't-dance-or-have-sex-with-you-for-_three-damn-months-_here-play-some-risky-Monopoly-with-the-rest-of-Europe-instead!~" –kind of sick, and the ballroom and its most important function was forgotten.

Same story for the bedroom.

Not going to explain that one.

…

Anyway…

What I'm saying is that when Antonio and I reached the ballroom (after a long and annoying tiptoe-adventure through Antonio's awfully huge House), it was pretty special for us to… well, to _be_ _there_ again.

We both even halted in front of the (opened – bet Hungary had forgotten to close them) large, intimidating doors of the ballroom, just to relish the sight of the beautiful ballroom.

Oh, and beautiful it was.

I had told it before.

The shiny, dark, wooden floor. The almost ridiculously high windows, reaching the breathtakingly amazing painted ceiling. The incredibly luxury chandeliers, hanging from the breathtakingly amazing paintedceiling. The paintings on the walls. The little bulbs of lights on the walls, enriching the room with their soft and romantic rays of warmth and love. The creamy white curtains, slowly swaying in the wind that came through the opened windows…

It really was a wonderful room to see.

…

And the lights really were switched on.

…

…what the _fuck_, Hungary, leaving the doors open is _one _thing, but leaving on the _lights?_

_Damn_!

Who do you think who _pays_ for that electricity bill, you evil, spilling bitch! You are lucky you are doing such a fantastic job at organizing my wedding, because otherwise, I'd have rubbed that no-doubt horrible bill of Antonio's into your gaysex-loving face so hard, it would leave _ink_ on your face!

And _tears_!

Yeah! _That_ would teach her to go around spending money we didn't have and… and…

…

…and I _really_ should stop internally snarling at Hungary for financial reasons before the Netherlands would jump through one of my windows to give me an emotional pat on the back, a few cigarettes and a _whack_ to Antonio's tomatoes (and I mean _real_ ones, you filthy, awfully perverted-minded bitches) to celebrate, only to jump through another window when he'd leave again, leaving Antonio _scarred_ for life and me in utter confusion for getting compliments and a growing change of experiencing lung cancer.

…

So yeah. Let's stop thinking about money, shall we, Lovino, you penniless wimp. _Sheesh_.

Fortunately, my brooding (and _brooding _they were) thoughts were abruptly put on hold when Antonio suddenly pulled me right in front of him, wrapped his arms around me and gently pressed his face to the side of my own, sighing softly as he looked in the same direction as I was looking.

'Ah, would you look at that… it looks so _lovely_! So very lovely… don't you think so, Lovino?'

He gave me a squeeze to my side.

I nodded sheepishly and tried to act as nonchalant as I could when I slowly traced a finger over one of his arms.

'It looks alright, I-I guess… and the room's not looking too shabby, either.'

He got the joke – quick, inform the **press!** – and smiled against my cheek.

'Ah, well, about the room… those colors of the slowly rising sun really brings some ambiance in here, right?'

'…I've always liked orange and yellow and red and some very light hints of blue, yes. Really… um, all over the place. And rainbow-ish.' I awkwardly explained.

'It'll be an honor to dance with you in a beautiful place like this, my love. It'll _always_ be.' He kissed my cheek.

I cleared my throat. 'Well. If it gets you so riled up, we should do it more often then.'

'We _should_!' Antonio agreed, _passionately _agreed, '…and you know what, we will! From now on, we'll dance once a week!~ How about that!'

I let out a sarcastic little laugh and patted his head like I wanted to say "there there, silly boy.".

'Yeah _right_. You know that's impossible. To dance every week, I mean. Our countries are slowly sinking away in that financial shithole named Europe and you're suggesting we should dance once a week? Do you _want _our bosses to hunt us down and toss us on the streets?'

Antonio managed to give me a confused look.

'…you seriously think our bosses will hunt us down and toss us on the streets if we dance more often?'

'Yes.' I huffed, even though I now heard myself how stupid that sounded. 'Out of _spite._'

'Out of _spite_?'

'Out of fucking _spite_.'

Antonio frowned, but then shrugged.

'Well, if that's the way it's going to be, we better prepare ourselves very carefully for the wrath of our bosses.'

I looked at him, alarmed. 'What do you mea—'

'Because I'm still planning to have a dance with you at least once every week.'

'O-oh.' I muttered with a small smile on my unruly face. '…should have seen that one coming…'

'But you didn't!~'

'No, I didn't. Nice job, Antonio.'

'Thank you very much, sweetie!'

'Don't mention it.'

We were quiet for a minute – these moments happened quite often, I had to say, but, just like the current silence, they almost _never_ were uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Antonio hummed thoughtfully, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

'You know what's weird, Lovino?'

I snorted.

'After having lived almost my entire life with you and being a personification of half of a country _and_ a surviving witness of your unsettling parties with the French Fuckface and Prussian Albino-Freak… _yes_, Antonio, I _think _I know what's weird.'

'Well, do you know what _I_ think what's weird?' Antonio patiently carried on.

Naturally, I could have thought of _million_ things that he could found weird, like a twig, or dust _glistering_ in the sunlight, or the unexplainable secrets that mustaches held (don't give me that look, I'm surehe observes these things with never-ending amazement), but in the end, I didn't think of anything at all, thank god, and just gave him a cynical look.

'Blow me away.'

'Isn't it strange…' he started, '…that we've been in this room for quite some time now, and even though we've talked about dancing a lot, we haven't actually made a single step yet?'

I blinked with my eyes – well of course I blinked with my eyes, blinking with my _nose_ would look so funny.

'You're right. We haven't danced yet. That _is_ strange.'

'Let's get started then!~ I'll go prepare the room!'

Antonio smiled broadly, pushed me into the ballroom, closed the doors behind us and immediately sprinted over to the other side of the room, where a lonely radio-installation-thing was hopefully awaiting his arrival.

He fumbled with it for a while – and I just stood there in the middle of the room, on the middle of the floor, like some fucking retard – until there suddenly was soft but demanding music all around me, floating out of the many cleverly hidden boxes somewhere in the room, somewhere above us.

I couldn't really place the music, but I didn't think I had heard it before.

Maybe one of America's mixes again.

_Pfffft._

Oh man, I needed a laugh like that.

I wanted to listen to it some more to try and recognize the music, but before I could focus myself on it, a bouncy Spaniard appeared out of nowhere in front of me and flashed one of those familiar, excited grins at me, taking my hands in his and pulling me over to one of the windows, so that we were, if I'm allowed to be disgusting and poetic for a sec, actually standing in the welcoming rays of light of the awakening sun.

…

Oh yes, no doubt about it. The whole scene probably looked corny as hell.

And I _loved_ it.

'Alright now…' Antonio murmured, sliding one arm around my waist and calmly pulling my lower body against his own, which was both _hot_ and unnerving at the same time because, let's be honest here, it had been a while since the last time our hips and pelvic and what-not had been as closely connected as this.

…

What do you mean, "just last week, you No-Sex-Pact-cheating, dry-humping liar"? Go fuck yourself, dammit!

…

Moving on…

When Antonio turned his hand the right way, so that mine could fit in his the way it was supposed to fit in his, he suddenly stopped in his movements and gave me an apologizing glance.

'A-ah, sorry, Lovi – I never asked you if you wanted to lead or not…'

'I never said.' I simply reassured him.

'So… I can lead?'

'You can lead. For now.' I smirked weakly at him. '…but I _do_ want to lead the next dance.'

'Oh, okay!~' Antonio smiled excitedly, after which he positioned us some more.

'…okay, can you put your hand on my shoulder, Lovino? Yes, just like that… oh, and can you move your other hand… yes, perfect!~'

I scowled and looked the other way as I did what he told me.

'Dammit, you sound like some creepy dance-teacher. What's next, giving me a praising slap on the butt for flattening my naughty bits against yours?'

He just laughed – and let go of my waist for a bit to place a finger under my chin.

'…now, lift your face, sweetie. Look at me.'

I blushed, grumbled and protested against that teasing finger of his, but not for long – in no time, I let him raise my face towards his… but I didn't go easy on the glaring that followed right after that.

'A-annoying bastard.'

'Not _just _an annoying bastard – an annoying bastard that loves you.' he corrected with a smile.

I spread my eyes, but remained calm. Sort of.

'S-so do I. Love you, I mean. I'm doing that a lot.'

'I wouldn't dare to doubt that.'

Antonio gave me a loving look and leant forwards to me, softly brushing my lips with his own, then leaning back again.

'…ah, but anyway, my love… any idea what dance this is? This song, I mean?'

'Wait a minute, shut up and let me think.'

I furrowed my brows and thoughtlessly scraped my nails over his shoulder – not too hard, don't worry – as I listened to the delightful upbeat and light sounds coming out of the music-installation.

'…um…it's definitely not a waltz… not a quickstep or foxtrot either…'

'It's a Latin-dance, yes.' Antonio admitted, still smiling down at me as he slowly, very slowly, started to move, putting his hand back on my hips to lazily—no, _smoothly_ sway them, from side to side, in time with his own hips.

'Wh-what are you _doing_, dammit, I-I haven't guessed it yet!' I stammered, quickly holding on to him a lot tighter than I was before as I clumsily followed his lead.

'I'm just giving you some very carefully-chosen hints, sweetie, and nothing more than that.' he innocently explained – and now actually took a few steps forwards, gently but firmly making me walk backwards.

I yelped when he almost stood on my toes and cursed under my breath when I felt sweat trickling down my back already.

'S-slow down, dammit, slow the fuck down, I can't keep up with you, you damn— _gaaaah!_'

Antonio frowned, clacked with his tongue…

'You're thinking too much, my love. Stop that.'

…and pushed me away from him with a shockingly elegant, but persistent sway from his hand, only to pull me back against him right after that, smacking our torsos together with a hard _thud_.

'_Ouch_.' I said to his stupid smiling face as I looked up.

'Have you guessed it already, sweetie?' Antonio asked me, not intimidated by my stare at all, not in the very _least_, even.

'Um… it's…'

I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully and wiped my sweaty hands to his shirt – take that, you frolicking asshole.

'…is it a Samba?'

Antonio's green eyes started to shine and he nodded, obviously impressed by my indeed mind-blowing intelligence and observation skills.

'It is, Lovi! How good of you to remember!~'

'I know.' I humbly admitted.

'What gave the dance away?' he wanted to know – already continuing our dance with relative ease.

'T-the butt-swaying, of course!' I said, quickly adapting my steps and speed to his, '…and the spinning, the short but hard jerks on my arms, the hip-maneuvering…'

'You are absolutely right.' Antonio said. 'We're only moving way too sluggishly to let this dance pass as a Samba, though.'

I raised my head up, a panicky look on my face.

'…a-are you suggesting we should dance faster?'

'Hm-hm…~'

Antonio's movements became quicker, more _fluent_, his hands not-losing their resolute grip on me as he navigated me through the large, empty room.

'N-no, this isn't right, this isn't right!' I protested, although I actually _could _keep up with his tempo now, '…we should've started the Samba other than this, you know that!'

'Ah, you're thinking too much about it again, Lovino…'

He gave me a comforting look and sighed, without slowing down for even one damn second.

'Just _go_ with the flow, my love. Don't let silly, unimportant things like stern guidelines and regular dancemoves distract you. Just listen to the music. Just follow my lead. You'll be fine.'

'H-how the hell do _you_ know, I haven't danced in months! I—'

Antonio made a couple of rapidly leg-crossing steps, spun me around and gave me some encouraging pats on the waist afterwards, when he dragged me over the floor again.

'You'll be _fine_, Lovino.' I heard him repeating somewhere behind me (or was it next to me, I didn't know anymore), his breathing a bit strained,

'…you're _South Italy_, sweetie. A Latino-loving country. Dancing's in your _blood_. You _have_ to dance – no, _need_ to dance, even. You can't fight it. It's stronger than yourself.'

I finally managed to lock eyes with him and stared at him, questioning and curious.

'…stronger than myself, you said… right? Y-you really think so?'

Antonio grinned.

'Don't _you_?'

'Yeah, if you put it like _that_, I suppose… um, I-I mean, of _course_ I think so, dammit! Because… because it _is _so!'

I huffed, straightened my back – and I noticed I immediately stood a lot firmer on my feet all of a sudden.

'N-now! Just you watch me, you cocky bastard, and I'll fucking _show _you how to dance! I'll _rock_ this joint!'

So I suited the action to the word, took a hold of him a lot better than I had done before this moment and shot an impatient, yet flirty (THAT'S RIGHT) look at the Irritating Spanish Dance God With The Tight Pants That Suited Him So Very Nicely.

'Now shut your trap – and try to keep up with my awesome following skills, would you?'

Antonio only seemed to get _more_ excited by my provoking words (that kinky bastard, yet _another_ thing I should have known) and nodded cheerfully, his experienced and oh so _teasing_ body language inviting mine to say _fuck you _to all the usual standards and just have plain _fun_ instead.

And you know what?

I _took it_.

…

The invitation, I mean.

…

It was great.

**xXx**

I could tell you a thousand stories about Antonio's amazing dancing abilities.

About the way he so passionately enjoyed the music while he moved around the room, like it was specially created for _him_, and him only.

About the way he made his dancepartner, _me_, feel like he was the best fucking dancepartner in the whole damn world.

About the way all of his emotions, all of his expressions, all of his smiles and looks and movements seemed to _explode_ with fun, whenever he was on the floor.

About the way his steady hands held me, turned me, controlled me, guided me over the wooden ground ('cause let's face it, that's what the floor _was_) without ever losing sight of me or my needs.

About the sensuality he oozed with every shake of his hips, with every blink of his eyes, with every smirk he smiled.

I could tell you all about that.

And I could tell you about that all.

…

But I wouldn't.

…

Sorry.

Wait, no, I'm _not_ sorry, I have my reasons – I'm too busy _dancing_, dammit!

And _boy_, did I dance.

I had said it before, but I'll say it again – it was _great_.

Dancing with Antonio always was, and today's dance was no exeption.

I had so much… well… _fun_, really! So much fun, it almost scared me.

We started pretty serious – I had something to prove, after all – with super clean and smooth movements that I apparently had up my sleeve all this time, effectively showing both me and Antonio that I indeed hadn't forget about my dazzling Italian _swag_.

But soon enough, my extremely serious face had a very expectable effect on the jolly Spaniard I was dancing with… and it wasn't before long he burst out in laughter.

Like many others would have, I had thought I would get mad at him for laughing like that during this very epic dance session we were experiencing. How _dare_ he, cackling at me like that, how _dare _he!

…but then I happened to see a glimpse of myself in one of the few, but very present mirrors in the ballroom – and I had to admit it indeed was pretty silly to dance around with such a straight and stern face while hopping and popping my limbs and shaking my ass – like watching some faithful priest _**boogie-woogie the ever-loving crap **_out of himself in the local honky-tonk.

And Antonio's obnoxious laughter was quite contagious, too, or so I experienced, because my misplaced seriousness in combination with Antonio's outraged _roaring_ was enough to make me start a small but very _real_ snickering-fest, a snickering-fest that only got harder and louder and more like Antonio's laughter as time passed.

Before I know it, our laughter got louder than the music and we could have been rolling over the floor if we weren't busy _dancing _over the floor already, and that little fact only made things _worse_, of course, since stupid images like dance-rolling and roll-dancing over the floor were spontaneously brought up and _pppfffffft my god Antonio you bastard stop it stop it I get no fucking __**AIR**_!

…

…

It was a damn miracle nobody walked in to sneer at us for being too hyperactive and hysterical so fucking early in the morning, it was, let me tell you that much.

Thankfully, or not-so-thankfully, our laughter was put to an end when the song came to its end… and made room for a much more peaceful, slow and soothing song.

A classical song. Yes, this was classical music.

It was… hmmm…

…

Pachelbel's Canon in D.

One of Austria's favorite songs – and his poor, deceased piano could tell.

Which was weird, since Pachelbel's wasn't an Austrian. He was German.

And therefore _**evil**_!

…

…

Still, it was a nice song.

Could've been made by a crafty Italian person, even.

Like m_— _

_Anyway_.

It turned out that the piece of classical music didn't only have a blissful effect on me, but on Antonio as well, since he managed to _effortlessly_ change the sensual movements he had been making up to this point into much slower, calmer, more _romantic _movements, lowering his arms to wind them around my waist and pressing our warm foreheads together.

All in one flawless movement, as if the former dance was _supposed _to end in this one.

…

I wondered how he did it, I really did.

Feeling Antonio's eyes resting on me like they did now always gave me these weird, tumbling feelings in my stomach, like I was getting nauseous, but in the _best_ way there was. If that was even possible.

I-I didn't dislike it, though, and I'd have gladly danced around with him in such a slow tempo for a little bit longer, if it wasn't for that thing I had said to Antonio earlier, right before he had pulled me against him.

So I swallowed harshly and looked up at him as determinedly as I could, slowly letting my arms dangle lower and lower and lower down his sweet, _sweaty_ body, until my hands were resting _just _above his butt – and with just, I mean _just_. Seriously. One centimeter lower and I was flat-out _groping_ him. Which didn't sound like such a bad idea, actually, but there was a time and place for everything, Lovino, so behave yourself.

Antonio had noticed the wandering arms and hands and gave me a questioning look, tilting his somewhat reddened face to the side. I'm not sure it was because of the dancing or because of the sudden moodswing.

'What are you up to, Lovi?' he asked me, his voice low and sexy.

I snorted in response and grabbed one of his arms, leading it up to my shoulder.

'My turn to lead, you bastard.'


	66. Duks

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: EARLY (well, earlIER) UPDATE YAY!~  
__I'm back again!~ Hi hi! I hope your vacation was wonderful and lovely and all that jazz._^^ _Now let's get ourselves ready for a new and no-doubt very exciting year and let's hope the Maya's were wrong about 2012!~  
__Also – I'd like to thank you for respecting my choice to skip last week's update._^^ _Most of you are such faithful and kind readers/reviewers… I can't thank you guys enough for that. Hopefully, this chapter will be able to express my thanks to all of you patient readers._^^

_A/n2: The butt-song of this chapter was so very kindly offered to me by the lovely **Chaton Adores Les Corde –** so I'm using it now, since I still want to come up with as much new butt-song-titles as possible, and since the name of the song made me LOL.  
__Random funfact: did you know "lol" is an actual word in Dutch? It means fun. _XDDDDD _What a fun coincidence!~_

_A/n3: Oh, and __**Chibi-Foodly-Girl**__? May I thank you for giving me so many other butt-name-suggestions? I mean, WOW! I really needed those! Thank you so much for all the butts and asses, dear! _8DDDD

_A/n4: I'm thinking about publishing a children's picture book I wrote/drew a few years ago. It's a book that tries to explain to young children it's pretty normal these days to have two dads (and I'd be lying if I denied the fact I was thinking of two certain countries when I drew the dads…), or just one mom, or stepparents._^^  
_I got a good grade at school for it, so when I was thinking about it a couple of weeks ago, I asked my parents if I should try and publish it.  
__My mom smiled and nodded and said something about good genes and asked me to hand over the butter.  
__My father huffed and said it was about time I got off my lazy ass and try to do something with it already, dammit – and when he went to his work the day after, he immediately scanned and printed my entire picture book. 25 pages of A3-paper, in **color**. Damn, that must have been expensive!  
__He returned later that day with the manuscript, gave it to me and grinned.  
_'_Here you go. Now go publish it and make me filthy rich. Don't forget: the first million euros you make is for your old dad!'  
__He so Dutch. I love him so much._^^  
_Let's hope I'll be able to make my parents (and myself) proud!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVI:

_**Dazzey Duks  
**__**(Duice)**_

Okay.

So I had to lead.

Lead one of the most handsome and experienced and pants-cry-and-worship-his-sacred-Spanish-butt-in-delight-when-he's-wearing-them- persons of all time.

…

Alright. No big deal.

I took a deep breath when Antonio wasn't looking my way and gulped at the same time (which almost caused me to start a coughing fit and choke in my own awkwardly swallowed spit, but, in case you're wondering, _yes_, I _survived_).

…

Anyway…

I-I could do some leading. No really, I could seriously _do _some leading. Yup. It's nothing, it's less than nothing, even, it's just a matter of grabbing and demanding control and let yourself lose all uncertainties and boundaries while moving sensually to the music and guiding my sexy dancepartner in a dirty but awesome dance…

…while hearing Pachelbel's Canon in the background.

…

Not exactly the _best _song to grunt and grind hips and the like together to, I admit.

I mean… it's a good song, but not a sexy one. It's quite… _stiff_, actually.

And although stiff things could be and feel _**really**_ good sometimes, it wasn't that good _now_ – and _no_, I don't fucking _care _how perverted and hoarsely that came out, I meant every single word of it and that's _that_. Hooray for stiff stiffness, dammit.

…

But loving stiff stiffness or not, I was still stuck with Pachelbel's goddamned Canon right now.

And Antonio was eagerly waiting for me to make the first move, both of his arms wrapped around my shoulders already as he looked down at me (and _another_ thing: why couldn't that bastard just _shrink _a bit whenever I was trying to be really sexy and dominant, dammit) with an excited, waiting smile.

…

…

Well crap on a stick.

_Now_ what?

I was getting nervous. H-he was expecting something, dammit, of _course _he was expecting something, why didn't I just do something already, why didn't I start dancing!

'_Probably because you don't even know what dance this __**is**__, you bloody Italian tosser_,' a soft but very _clear_ voice (that for some insane reason sounded just like a certain English asshole) in the back of my head so very kindly informed me.

Oh.

Oh, that's true.

I didn't even know what dance _could_ be danced on Pachelbel's Canon.

In D.

…

Um…

U-um… um…

…ugh, that's just my fucking luck, dammit: he got to dance very passionately and joyfully and erotically with me on a cool Samba, and I'm getting the _serious_ shit – and I didn't even know _what kind_ of serious shit, oh shit, _fuck_…

'…is everything okay, Lovi?' Antonio then suddenly asked me – and he unknowingly made me flinch when his soft, warm hands behind my neck nested themselves somewhere in the opening of my shirt.

'Y-yes! Everything's okay! Everything's _fucking_ okay, dammit!' I told him, my voice high and shrill, '…I'm just trying to figure out what damn dance's suited for Pachelbel's Canon!'

He thought about it for a while – and then smiled brightly. 'Ah, I can help you with that! I know what dance is—'

'I _know_ you know!' I interrupted him with a scowl that immediately shut him up, '…but I don't want you to say anything! Get it? I-I want to figure it out myself, okay? I can do that!'

'That's true. You can do that.' Antonio agreed with a nod.

'I-I don't need your help at all!'

'Of course you don't.'

'Just let me think!'

'I will.'

'…a-and…' I began muttering, '…s-sorry for letting you wait.'

'Hm?' Antonio looked at me weirdly.

I bit my – upper, lower still hurt – lip and frowned.

'We don't have a lot of time today. With the wedding rehearsal and all… I-I'm probably wasting a lot of our dancing time now, so…'

'That's alright, sweetie.'

He tightened his grip around me and pulled me against him.

'Take all the time you need, my love. There's no rush. No rush at all…'

'…o-okay.'

I cleared my throat and pushed him off me again (c-can't fucking concentrate on the song with that wonderful chest just _millimeters_ away from my face), trying hard to internally dust off my knowledge about dancing and songs that fit with certain dances, while Antonio started massaging my neck. Very slowly, very carefully.

I automatically, _instantly_ shut my eyes.

Oh.

_Ohh_.

_Ohhhh that felt __**gooooood**_.

'You know, Lovino?' I vaguely heard him asking me as his fingers caressed my skin.

'Hmmmmm…?' I hummed, gripping his hips firmer.

'About this song. It's Pachelbel's Canon, right?'

'In D.' I stubbornly mumbled.

'Yes – that one.' he said, and chuckled gently when my greedy, needy hands pulled his lower body closer to mine.

'What about it…' I groaned, relaxing my tense shoulders more and more.

'Ah, well… it's a wedding song, Lovi.'

My eyes snapped open again and I stared at him. All relaxation was abruptly forgotten.

'…a-a wedding song? Pachelbel's Canon?'

'In D.'

'I _know _it's in fucking _D_!'

'Well, in that case… yes. I _am_ talking about that song.' Antonio's big eyes blinked at me in surprise. '…it's pretty common to play Pachelbel's thingy on weddings. You didn't know? I thought you were very much aware of that…'

'Well I _wasn't_!' I shrieked, panicking, '…o-oh _shit_, are you telling me I'm _**standing still **_on a fucking _**wedding song**_ with _**you**_, my _**groom**_, right now?'

'Yup.'

'God, that's _**awful**_!' I yelped, '…I-I need to _**know**_ stuff like this! And I certainly need to know how to dance of a fucking wedding song! GAH! You know what this _**means**_, Antonio?'

'An one-way ticket to Angsty Land.'

I ignored him. 'It means I _**fail **_as a groom! And as a dancer! I fail as a dancing groom!'

Suddenly – ABBA in the back of my head. WHY.

Anyway, the Spanish bastard didn't seem to agree with that and shook his head, staying very composed – he only laughed a bit and continued rubbing my neck, managing to calm me down a bit again.

'…a-ah…' I hissed softly.

Antonio sighed. 'Ah… I'm _amazed_ at the amount of stress that handsome body of you still holds, my lovely Lovi, even though you know you don't have to do that.'

'…w-what do you mean…'

'You don't need to make yourself anxious about everything concerning the wedding or your own qualities, sweetie…' He pressed a kiss to my temple. '…I told you, but… you stubborn man, you're _still_ doing it, aren't you…'

'Yeah, w-well, maybe, but _only_ because of _this _matter!' I defended myself with a huff, '…I just don't want us to look bad when we're supposed to dance after the wedding… I mean, I could be at a total loss what to do…'

'You won't be.'

'You don't know that!'

'I do know that.'

'H-how comes!'

Antonio gave me a reassuring smile.

'Because, Lovi, whenever you start hesitating about what kind of dance you should have to do on certain slow songs like _this_ one… there's always plan B.'

'…plan B…' I thoughtfully said. 'You mean running away crying while waving the white flag?'

'No, that's plan C. Or plan Z, actually, since you'll have to screw up a _lot _before you can do that, ahahaha…'

I narrowed my eyes. 'Don't challenge me. Seriously.'

'I won't… but Lovi, Lovi…'

He uttered another deep sigh and stopped rubbing my neck for a moment.

'…_think_, sweetie. What dance is _always _nice and suitable to do, no matter how slow and boring the song is?'

I made a long, frowning face.

Which was my thinking face.

…

Or my angry face.

Or my happy face.

Or regular face.

…

It really didn't matter, actually.

'…um…' I suddenly started, after having thought about it for some more, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, '…I-I _might_ have an idea what you mean.'

'That sounds promising!~' Antonio said, '…okay, what do you have in mind, sweetie?'

I looked up at him.

'Slow dancing…?'

He looked back with a proud and content grin and pulled my face closer to kiss me on the forehead, like a reward.

'There you go. I knew you'd get it. See? Nothing to worry yourself about, my love, the solution is really, really easy!~'

I allowed him to kiss me and smiled a bit.

'It really _is_ easy, yes… and kind of sexy, too. R-right?'

'Slow dancing _always_ is sexy, Lovi!' Antonio stated.

My smile got bigger and more excited. 'O-okay then! Let's do it!'

'Okay!~'

'Wait! Just a minute, just a minute…'

I let go of Antonio and rushed myself to where that radio installation thing was, which was on the other side of the room, _dammit_, and I stylishly _sliiiiiiid _the last few meters towards it just because I could. Then I ferociously pushed a few random buttons (because reading manuals is for brain-dead _mollusks_, dammit) and turned the volume up, after which I hurried my ass back to Antonio, half-walking, half-_gliding_, only to be stopped by himself when I grabbed him while passing him by.

'…and I'm back again!' I proudly told him.

Antonio blinked his green eyes confusedly, letting me reposition the both of us.

'Yes, you're back! Um… but back from _what_, actually, Lovi?'

I wound my arms around his waist again and tried to bite back a delighted smile when I felt Antonio's hands landing on my shoulders, just seconds later.

'…w-well, I'm back from pushing the rewind-button, Antonio.' I told him matter-of-factly, looking up at him when I was sure we both were standing the way I wanted us to stand, '…because you don't think I'd slow dance with you on the last fucking accords of Pachelbel, do you? That'd be pointless.'

He frowned. 'But these are the last accords of the song _before _Pachelbel. I think you went a bit too far with rewinding…'

'No I didn't.'

'…I don't get it.'

'That's because you're a moron.'

'Then why?'

I coughed. '…it's really not that difficult to understand. I… just needed some time to assume positions with you first. That's why I… rewinded a bit too much.'

'Ohhh.'

Antonio nodded understandingly – about _time_, dammit – and smiled at me.

'…ah, Lovino… preparing ourselves so carefully for just a simple practice slow dance…'

'W-what about that!' I huffed, listening with one very sharp ear to the fading sounds of the former Samba-song.

Antonio leant towards me and brushed his lips over the thin, tender skin of my auricle, making me shiver and clench my teeth.

'…it's just classic _you_, my love… classic _you_. Yet another reason to believe our wedding and dancing will be perfect tomorrow – your preparations are so well-thought-out, so _wonderful_… ah, it will be amazing…~'

'S-stop distracting me, y-you lisping jackass, d-dammit…' I mildly sneered at him – and instantly straightened my back just a _little _bit more when the first tones of Pachelbel's Canon (in D) echoed through the ballroom.

Okay.

Okay.

My turn to shine.

Yes.

You bet I would.

Oh _yes_, I _would_.

Shine like a fucking star.

Sun.

Flashlight.

Taser.

_Anything_.

Just _watch _me_._

And with that encouraging though in mind, I took my first step forward, almost letting out a sigh of relief when Antonio effortlessly and very willingly followed my hesitant, but sure lead (what indeed looked kind of silly but whatever).

Good.

Good.

Very good.

Alright then…

**XxX**

Already after having taken a few dance steps with Antonio through the room, I could feel my self-confidence increasing.

Why? Well…

Partly because Antonio was a very good dancepartner, whether he was leading or following. A-and I really enjoyed the way he kept on beaming big, admiring smiles at me as well. He always knew what was the best way to support me…

I was also getting more and more aware of my own… _feeling_. You know, my feeling for dancing and stuff. I finally got it. Well, I always got it – I just finally _realized _it. Yeah, that sounds better - I realized my own mind-shattering awesomeness. Hooray!

But the most prominent reason of my sudden self-confidence boost was the fact that I realized slow dancing was… well…

A _fucking piece of cake_.

Seriously.

You barely needed any brain-activity for this dance – you just needed to sway around a bit and make sure you knew where to "steer" your dancepartner to, but other than that?

Easiest, most relaxing dance in the goddamn _world_.

Hell, even Feliciano could nail this one – no, _wait_, even total stressballs like Latvia and Lithuania could! Just imagine what _rest _a dance like that would bring in their lives for a second!

…

Unless Russia was their dancepartner, of course. In that case, it would be a _Danze Macabre_.

…

I really needto stop making myself snicker so much, dammit.

My snickering was silenced soon enough, though, when Antonio suddenly sighed deeply and held me just a little… _better_, resting his head on one of my shoulders as he moved- no, _floated_ on the music in time with me.

'I adore you, Lovino.'

…

…

Don't ask me why, but I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes – and I harshly swallowed, leaning my face on _his_ shoulder, tilting it to the side so he couldn't see that… that frowning, sudden-overtaken-by-wussy-emotions-expression of mine.

It never grew old.

Antonio telling me something sweet.

Suddenly, out of the blue. Without warning me first.

It really never grew old.

I still felt thrills of bliss shooting through me whenever he said that. I still felt the honesty in his words. I still felt _**like fucking crying, apparently**_, whenever he spoke those words of love, followed by my name or a stupid term of endearment…

I breathed in shakily and splayed my hands on the small of his back, pushing his body more and more against mine as I rubbed my cheeks against his shoulders with half-lidded eyes.

'…I love you too, Antonio…'

He responded with a soft smile and a cheeky kiss, pressed in the crook of my neck.

I gasped quietly. D-damn him and his teasing touches…

Still, I felt the corners of my mouth started to twitch and hesitated between letting out that shy laugh I was holding in or just grumpily telling him to stop it.

…

…w-well, we were on our own now anyway… might as well try to improve the mood…

I gripped his shirt firmer from behind, raised my face up and was about to beam a small, bashful smile to the Spaniard who happened to be looking my direction as well – and he even blushed a very guilty tint of red when I caught him staring at me…

…when all of a sudden, a throat was very _**loudly **_cleared.

'_Harr-rrrrrr-rrruuuump_.'

…

That wasn't me.

And that wasn't Antonio either.

…

…

…no.

Oh no no no.

Don't tell me someone's been observing us.

_**Please **_don't tell me someone's been _**fucking**_ _**observing**_ us.

Why, just _**why **_are there _**always**_ people around us who have this unhealthy _**urge**_ to _**motherfucking blast it all to hell observe us like we are two fucking rare kinds of sexy animal species?**_

I mean, I know we are hot to look at, but _sheesh_!

…

Anyway…

Immediately after my metal flip out was over, I froze in all of my movements, tensing up and suddenly _very _aware of the ridiculously vulnerable position Antonio and I were standing in.

'…A-Antonio?' I managed to croak out.

'…yes?' Antonio sounded cheerful as ever, but even he couldn't hid the strained tone of his voice.

'…there's somebody here, right?'

'Ah… yes, there is. And I think he's been here for a while.'

I stared at him, speechless for a moment.

'…you _think_ he's been here for a while or do you actually _know _it?'

Antonio probably heard the warning tone, because he was quick to give me a nervous grin.

'…u-um… well, I'm not _too_ sure, but—'

'Oh GOD! If you could _**see**_ somebody sitting there so damn _**clearly**_, then _**why**_ _didn't you fucking SAY _something!' I snapped at him.

'B-but I didn't see him all that clearly! It took a while before I noticed him, because of all the greyish smoke around him! You can't _see_ somebody when he's surrounded by smoke, don't you know!'

My jaw dropped in disbelieve.

'…can't see somebody when he's surrounded by sm— _shit_, are you for _real_, Antonio?'

'…and since I was busy focusing on nicer things, like… like _you_, Lovi,' Antonio hastily continued, '…I didn't really pay attention to it… but now… well, now I can definitely see someone. Probably because we've stopped dancing and his cigarette's gone now.'

'_Pipe_, you stupid Spaniard.' a heavy voice corrected him somewhere behind me and I winced, slowly turning my head.

There, sitting on the only chair in the ballroom, the chair standing next to the tiny fancy table, was the Netherlands.

The _Netherlands_.

Well, I was _shocked_!

…

Of course, not as shocked as I would've been if the lurker had turned out to be Hungary (Hungary, smoking _pipe_ – holy _crap_), but it still was a pretty startling discovery.

The Netherlands had his legs easily folded over one another, his hair weird and spiky as ever and his face super mega ultra… _blank_.

…

Yeeeaaah…

I never knew what to think of emotionless blank bastard-nations like him.

That's why I swear that _one_ day I was going to suggest to Norway, the Netherlands _and_ Sweden to begin a Emotionless Blank Bastards Club.

With that Belarus bitch as their mascot.

And "I'm being overwhelmed by so many feelings right now." their slogan.

It would be a fucking _hit_.

…

But I digress.

So anyway, the Netherlands was sitting and chilling on a chair like he fucking owned the room.

There also was a pretty impressive pile of books collected on the table next to him and he had apparently been busy reading some sort of doorstopper-book before he had decided to _scrape_ his damn throat and disturb me and Antonio – disturb us _gooooood_.

'Netherlands, you _bastard_!' I suddenly, for some incredibly useless reason, dramatically cried out – and instantly let go of Antonio, distancing myself from him and trying to ignore the (somewhat overdid) heartbroken expression on his face.

'Yo, Romano.'

Netherlands gave me a "yup-I-know-you-too-wazzup"-nod, looked back to his book… and flipped a page.

…

Yes. He flipped a page.

Like he was expecting us to just… just _carry on _our cutesy dancing while having _him _around, _**reading a fucking book**_.

YEAH.

NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

'Hey! You! Don't go back to reading!' I snarled at the Dutchman, stomping towards him, '…what the _hell _are you doing here, dammit!'

He pointed to his pipe and book.

'Smoking. And reading. Mostly.'

I groaned. 'Yes, I _know _you are smoking and reading, but why, _why_!'

He closed his eyes.

'It's a little early in the morning to ask me such philosophical questions, Romano.'

I stared at him.

'Oh.' He snapped his fingers. 'You still owe me 10 euros, by the way.'

…

…

NOT THAT BULLSHIT AGAIN.

I uttered a frustrated groan and smacked my forehead in desperation.

'Oh, don't get all worked up over him, Lovi – I _know_ what he was doing.'

Antonio, who had followed me, snorted and narrowed his eyes at the blonde creep.

'…you were _peeking _at us, weren't you, Netherlands?'

The other man stared at him with a deep frown, an annoyed vein in his forehead popping up.

'I'd rather be tortured than peek at lousy Spanish-Italian soft-porn.'

'That can be arranged.' Antonio said.

Netherlands grunted.

'Really now.'

'_Yes_.'

'Antonio…' I warningly said, but he didn't listen to me and flashed this creepy grin to the Netherlands, who got up from his seat – holy _fuck_, was that guy _huge_ – and crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring at the smaller Spaniard.

'Do your _worst_, Mr. Tomatobrain.'

Antonio squeezed his eyes almost shut.

'I _will_.'

I was beginning to get nervous. This didn't look good. Antonio was pissing the Dutch tree off, and pissing persons – no, _countries _off that were bigger and mightier than you _never _was a good thing…

And although Antonio was and had been incredibly strong (I mean, he once _did_ rule over a big fat _slice_ of the world-cake), he wasn't all that powerful as he used to be anymore… and the Netherlands would totally _crumple him and/or fold him _like an _origami-masterpiece_ if he annoyed him too much.

And then I had to marry a Spanish paper crane.

I didn't want to marry a Spanish paper crane, dammit!

So I started snapping at Antonio again, telling him to cut it the fuck out and let that Dutch creep be, but Antonio silenced me with a stern look, green eyes piercing and hard.

'No, Lovino. I _have_ to do this. If the Netherlands wants me to torture him, I _shall _torture him!'

'_How_? And with _what_?' Netherlands snorted before I could continue my nagging, '…planning to tickle me with your nation's sky-high number of disgruntled, unemployed students? Ohh, I'm quivering already.'

'Wait for it…' Antonio said with a huff, and started digging in his pockets – ALL of his pockets, eventually pulling out a 1 euro-coin.

'Ha HA!' he then said, waving his hand with the coin.

Both me and the Netherlands stared at Antonio like he had completely lost it.

'Know what this is?' the Spaniard asked his blond former colony.

The Netherlands grunted.

'Your sanity – life size.'

'No, it's a coin.' Antonio pointed out.

'You don't say.'

'I _do _say.'

'What _about _the stupid coin, Spain.'

'I'm going to torture you with it!'

'What?' Netherlands blinked, confused.

I felt the need to smack my own forehead again, but I didn't – I shook my head at Antonio instead.

'What the fuck are you planning to do with him with one damn euro, you moron!'

Antonio smiled a blissful smile and enclosed his hand around the coin.

'I'm going to _**toss**_ _**it out of the window**_.'

…

Okay.

I was ready to bury myself in embarrassment now.

Yep. I was ready to—

'_**NO. **_'

The Netherlands' face had become unsettling pale, yet still expressionless, all of a sudden and his pipe had dropped out of his trembling mouth.

'You… you wouldn't_ dare _wasting good money like that.'

Antonio laughed heartily. 'Oh, but I _would_!~ There's a _very _nice lake just outside my House, after all… so tempting to feed it with a pretty little coin like this one…'

'You _sadist_. Whatever has that coin ever done to you?'

'Ah, I could also drop it down a wishing well…~' Antonio mused further.

'No.'

'Or go to the parlor with it…~'

'NO.'

'Or hand it out to the wasteful kid of the neighbors… without asking _**anything for it in return!**_'

'You're fucking _insane_.' Netherlands indeed hollered in disbelieve, almost _wooooshing_ both me and Antonio away with the power of his smoky voice, '…_everybody _knows you should put that euro in your piggy bank and _protect it with your __**LIFE**_.'

…

Whoa, whoa, WHOA.

I gaped at the Dutchman.

'_Damn_, I think _you're _the insane one here, Netherlands!'

He sent a – still oh so very emotionless, but somewhat _calmer_ – glance at me.

'That's not true. I'm just very thrifty.'

'You're a fucking _Ebenezer_!'

He rolled his eyes. 'Whatever, _Cratchit_. Just make sure you're giving me those 10 euros today, or I might feel like putting out the fire and keeping you here during Christmas.'

'Wha—'

'Also, _humbug_.'

'I—'

'No. Don't give me that preach about Tiny Tim. I don't give a _shit _about Tiny Tim. Kid's annoying and bound to die young anyway. And maybe his stupid parents will pay more attention to the other 4 million kids they have when Tiny Tim's toodeloo. That would be nice.'

…

…

Okay…

While Antonio and I were still busy physically recovering from the unexpected Tiny Tim-rant, the Netherlands picked his pipe up and put in back in his mouth again, looking around him.

'Now where did I put my matches.'

'Here they are, big brother!~'

And then Belgium, her unreadable cat-smile and a small box of matches suddenly entered the ballroom, almost as if the female nation had _timed_ her great entrance this way.

Knowing her, she probably _had_.

…

…

Well.

So much for early romantic just-you-and-me morning dancing…

I sighed deeply and glanced at Antonio, who was looking pretty stupid and neglected, standing there in the middle of the room all by himself.

'Put that _fucking_ coin away already and come over here, you weirdo – haven't you heard? Thursday has just begun.'

Boy, and _how_.

**xXx**

Belgium's smile had been happy, excited and cheerful when she entered, but after she had heard about the way her mean older brother had interrupted my and Antonio's lovey-dovey time together, her smile quickly turned upside down.

'I can't _believe_ you!' she nagged at the Netherlands, planting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brows, '…I had told you to go _get_ them, not to go and creep them out! How many times do I have to say it? Lurking at other nations will _not _make them take you more seriously!'

'Stop talking about politics. Politics make me feel angry.'

The Netherlands grumbled, exhaling small clouds and puffs of thick, grey and blue (…_blue_?) smoke.

'Now _wait_ a minute, wait a minute, hold the phone…'

I interrupted Belgium's snarling and Netherlands' growling by stepping in between them – literally. While facing the blonde Belgian female, I frowned warily.

'…for the record, Belgium… did you just say you had instructed your big ass stoner brother to come and get me and Antonio?'

The woman instantly got rid of her surly face and gave me a happy, excited smile, clasping her hands together.

'That's right, sweetie!~ You see, when I went to your bedroom a couple of minutes ago to tell you two it's rehearsal time – oh! That was _Hungary's_ idea, sweetie, not mine, so_ don't_ you flip the bird at _me_! – I discovered your bed was empty!'

'That's because Lovi and I weren't there!' Detective Antonio immediately solved the mystery, extremely quick and witty as always.

Belgium giggled, but continued.

'I didn't know where the two of you were and I was about to grab my secret stash of chocolate cookies I always carry around when things aren't going the way I want them to – if you were Belgian, you'd understand – but then _Daan_ and this very big, reddish-stained hammer swung over his shoulder passed the bedroom and, what do you know, he knew where the two of you lovebirds were!~'

'Really?' I asked, trying _hard _not to think too much about either that hammer or Antonio's probably plunged, _oh my god_, tomato's.

'Yes.' Netherlands nodded. 'I came back from a refreshing stroll through the tomato garden. Felt happy. Happened to catch a glimpse of you and the Spanish bastard gaying through the halls. Thought angry thoughts.'

He paused for a second.

'And then I went back upstairs.'

'And there he met _me_!~' Belgium smiled.

'…aha.' I muttered, casting a careful look to the confused Spaniard next to me.

Said Spaniard scratched his head.

'I don't know why, but I think I should feel really, _really _miserable…'

'Sounds like a plan.' The Netherlands was quick to say. 'Do it.'

Belgium shot yet another glare at him and slapped him on the back of his head, as she tended to do whenever he said something mean (seriously, I'm surprised that guy hadn't got a nasty concussion on his ass already, although I admit it would be pretty awkward to have an ass-concussion and _what what what the fucking hell am I thinking again dammit for shit's sake!_).

'Anyway…' Belgium slowly said, still sending daggers at her brother with her eyes only, '…what I'm trying to say is… _Daan_ told me where you two were heading, and so, I told him to go get you guys for the rehearsal, since… since I had other things to do.'

'My sister didn't want to be confronted by a happy Spanish heartbreaker dancing with somebody that isn't her.' her brother explained.

…

Oh.

_Oh_.

…

_Ouch_.

'…e-ehm… um…'

Belgium's face flushed bright red and she looked down, fidgeting with her dress.

'…that's _not_… um… I-I think… well… he means… I-I…'

She looked like she was about to cry.

…

Okay – _enough _already.

Enough enough enough enough.

This… this was getting too painful.

This was getting _way_ _too_ _fucking_ _**painful**_ for the girl I… I probably respected the most of all the female nations, still in love with Antonio or not, and I'll be _dammed_ if I let her get hurt even _more_ by bringing that awkward topic up again.

So I hastily walked towards her and grabbed her arm, clumsily holding and rubbing it like a very bad, but nevertheless ambitious… masseur-guy.

'It's alright, Belgium, let's just forget whatever that _subtle_ brother of yours was talking about, alright? Just forget about it.'

'Lovino's right, Femke – and I always do just that.' Antonio smiled.

She laughed a sniveling, choked-up kind of laugh and quickly wiped her tears away.

'No no, I-I'm okay, I'm okay…'

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Antonio wanted to come closer and, knowing him, hug her to make her feel better, but he hesitated – and in the end, he decided to stay put.

…

Probably the best thing he _could_ do right now, I guess…

While comforting Belgium, I glared at the Netherlands, who blankly stared back at me and his sister – but I think I could read the tiniest hints of surprise and shock on his empty face.

'Oh. Was I not supposed to say that? Oh. I didn't know that. I just wanted to help. I… Um.'

He shuffled his feet – and yes, it's _very _weird to see a huge man shuffle his feet all sheepishly and shit – before he approached his sister some more and awkwardly patted her head.

'Sorry.'

Belgium looked up at him with glassy eyes and let out a short, embarrassed chuckle, allowing him to pet her.

'It's alright, it's alright, really!~ I… well, I'm just a big crybaby, that's all!'

'You sure you're going to be okay?' I asked her. '…or… or do you think it's better if I pick somebody else to be my—'

'_No_.'

She snapped her head to me with a sudden jolt – and holy _shit_,she must have _cracked_ her _neck _pretty badlywhen she did it – and looked at me with burning, yet misty green eyes, grabbing my hands forcefully… no, _desperately_.

'No, Romano, _don't_. Don't worry about me and please, don't pick somebody else to be your best (wo)man. I-I forbid you to do that! Okay? I forbid it! I'm just an old girl with old feelings that sometimes tend to bug me, but that _doesn't _mean I can't handle your wedding. I'm…'

She crushed her lips together tightly before carrying on.

'…I'm your big sister and I love you very, very much. And… I want to be the best best (wo)man my silly little Italian brother can have.'

'Belgium…' I stammered.

'And… a-and I hope that, one day, you'll finally be able to trust me enough to…'

She took a deep breath.

'…c-call me Femke…'

I wrinkled my forehead. '…I…'

'But_ n__ot_ because I ask you to!' Belgium stared intensively at me. '…only if you _want _to! Alright? Is it a promise, Romano?'

After a short silence, I gave her a small smile and nodded.

'Okay. It's… it's a promise.'

'Fuck, there's something wrong with this air. My eyes leak.' Netherlands said somewhere behind us, rubbing his eyes with a pink (of course it was fucking pink) handkerchief.

'Y-you're crying, you big, wimpy punk…' Antonio said, his lower lip trembling as well as he looked from me and Belgium to the large man, '…h-hey, got a hanky for me, too?'

'**No**.'

'…ah.'

'And _you_!' Belgium suddenly piped up, pointing at Antonio (who was now wiping his nose on his sleeve - _yuck_), '…I've got _one_ more thing to say to you, _Antonie_!'

He was surprised and quickly blinked his eyes, but eventually nodded, curious about what she had to say.

'Ah… you have? What is it?'

She snorted, reached up – and then she abruptly _flicked my curl_.

SHE FUCKING FLICKED IT.

'A-_a_… HEY!' I sputtered, face flushing.

'You better take good care of Roma, or I'll steal him from you.' Belgium told Antonio warningly, squeezing her eyes.

'…**get it?**'

Antonio opened his mouth, but then he closed it again.

Finally, he just beamed a friendly, reassuring smile at her.

'Don't worry, Femke. I love him. With all of my heart. With _all_ of my heart.'

**xXx**

Eventually, the four of us got out of the ballroom.

Belgium had told me and Antonio that the wedding rehearsal was being held in the Big Random Room, which was one of Antonio's many rooms that was just _big_ and empty most of the time since he was too poor to decorate the room, let alone give a _function_ to the room, hence the name Big Random Room.

…

See? Everything makes sense in context. Everything.

'Even though we're using the Big Random Room for this, it's still going to be a rather small rehearsal.' the Belgian female explained to me and Antonio as we walked through the hallway: she and her reading brother (yes, he had taken that book with him) in front of us, me and Antonio walking just behind them.

'A small rehearsal…' Antonio slowly said, looking up to the ceiling while walking, '…ah, I wonder what you mean with that.'

'It's a rehearsal and it's small.' the Netherlands bluntly remarked. 'What's so difficult to understand about that, stupid Spaniard.'

Antonio fired a gloomy glare at his back, but thankfully, he didn't say anything.

'He meant to say,' I quickly started, rewarding Antonio's wise decision to ignore the Dutchman by grabbing his hand and intertwining our fingers together, '…t-that he doesn't know _how _small the wedding rehearsal is going to be. And neither do I, to be honest.'

I-I tried not to blush too much when I felt Antonio's thankful and loving gaze resting on me.

'It's really easy!~' Belgium tittered in the meantime, '…you see, originally, Hungary had asked all the other nations to be here for the rehearsal. But unfortunately, most of them couldn't make it: their bosses thought giving them just **one** day off – tomorrow, the day of your wedding – was more than enough, and so… well, it's just going to be the nine key characters of the wedding for today's rehearsal.'

'_Nine_ key characters?' I asked.

'Yup!~'

'Who are they?'

Belgium smiled. 'Well… you and _Antonie_ and Veneciano and Germany, of course, since you four are going to get married… and also your best men, who are… um, me, _Frans_, Japan and Prussia… and then there's… the wedding official.'

Her voice sounded kind of nervous when she was approaching the end of the sentence.

'Oh, that's true, we need a wedding official to wed us!~' Antonio nodded, oblivious to tension and other awkward things as ever, '…hey, is it a priest, Femke? Lovi and I are kind of Catholic – well, we're at least trying hard, ahahahaha – so…'

'Erhm…' Belgium hesitated, panicky smile on her face, '…well, he IS Catholic_… _most of the time…'

'Don't blame me. You've got to be flexible in times like these.' the Netherlands said, flipping yet another page of his (now I could see it) black-yellow book, that was titled…

…

…that was titled… "How To Wed Weird Persons – For Dummies And Dutchmen And Everything In-Between".

And then I abruptly stood still.

…

…

What.

Oh.

No.

Is he telling me that he's…

Yes.

Yes, he is.

…

Oh GOD.

'Lovino?'

Antonio stopped walking – well, let's face it, he didn't really have a choice since I held his hand – and gave me a worried look.

'…what's wrong, sweetie? You look like you've heard something terrible!'

I ignored him and suddenly grabbed a sleeve of the Netherlands, yanking it _hard_.

The Dutchman gave me an unsettling annoyed glance.

'If you rip my sleeve off, you'll have to pay me more than 10 euros, Romano.'

I was still way too impressed by the shock of a few minutes earlier to be scared and stared at him.

'Are… are _you _going to marry us, Netherlands?'

The taller nation's dull, green eyes watched me in silence, before he gave me a small nod and patted me on the head with the book.

'_Ouch_!' I said, even though it really wasn't painful at all – it was just a wussy reflex.

'Yes.' He nodded solemnly as I rubbed my head. 'I'm going to be your wedding official.'

My mouth dropped on the ground. I just knew it did. It _felt _like it did, anyway.

'So I figured I better study a bit before the big day, right?' he continued, '…good thing I'm already at chapter 3: What To Do If You Can't Stand The Groom/Bride.'

'_What_?' I hissed, quickly flipping from immensely disgusted (because _gaaah_, a Dutch bastard was going to marry us!) to immensely discontent (because _gaaah_, he wasn't even properly prepared yet!),

'…you're at chapter 3? How many chapters _are_ there in that stupid book of yours before you've finished it?'

'70.'

'_70?_'

'70.'

'Holy _fuck_!'

'Don't worry. I'm a fast reader.' the blond man reassured me. 'Also, I love books. Except that I don't.'

Then he looked away from the book and stared in the distance for a while – and then he suddenly put it away.

'Maybe I should Wiki it.'

'_What_!' I snapped, jumping up and down like a hysterical grasshopper on a red-hot barbecue-framework, '…not fucking way in hell you're going to fucking _Wiki _how to wed me and Antonio!'

'Lovino…' Antonio said, closing a hand around my arm and softly pulling me his way.

I didn't listen and continued my ranting.

'You're going to _read_ that damn book, understood? You're going to read it and you're going to be a decent wedding official…'

'Lovino.'

'…and you _better _be baptized already, you pothead!'

'Lovino.'

'And don't you dare to smoke or swear in the House of God, you motherfucking goddamn _asshole_!'

'Lovino!'

'_What_!'

Without saying something first, Antonio suddenly pulled me flush against him, _really _flush against him, and attacked my nagging mouth with surprisingly gentle, but forceful lips, holding me still with strong, firm hands around my wrists.

I already was way too angry to go with the flow and let him kiss me like that, so I protested and I protested, until I didn't protest as much anymore and just… w-well… just let it all happen, my face on fire and my way of breathing ragged and hastily.

As soon as he felt I was calming down, Antonio carefully pulled back, uttering a deep sigh, his eyes half-lidded when they looked at me.

'…w-what the fuck was that…' I grumbled stubbornly, frowning as I wiped my mouth.

'I kissed you.' Antonio smiled. 'Since that seems the only way to stop your sudden panic-attacks. I think I'll do that more often from now on, they seem to have a really satisfying effect on you, ahahaha…'

I narrowed my already very much narrowed eyes even more.

'So I panicked! Big deal, I had all rights to be panicking! Hell, why aren't _you _panicking, dammit!' I wanted to know. '…I-I mean… that Dutch creep is going to _marry_ us! Your _enemy_! Remember? You even got really mad at me a few week ago because I was planning to look him up!'

'I mostly got mad at you back then because you were planning to look him up without discussing the matter with me, first.' Antonio corrected me patiently.

'…besides, he's not really my enemy… he's just a jerk.'

'I heard that.' the Netherlands snorted.

'That's because I said it out loud.' Antonio explained.

The Netherlands blinked, but then just sighed and concentrated his focus on his book again.

'I just don't get it!' I stammered meanwhile, trying to pay as less attention as possible to the kind smile Antonio was currently beaming at me as he caressed my sides, '…w-why aren't you upset about this? This is nothing like you. I expected you to be bringing out your axe or something…'

He laughed.

'Ah! Yes, I could do that. But things aren't as easily solved with axes anymore as they used to be – I even discovered that most of the times, you seem to make matters worse with them these days!~'

'…that sure took you a couple of decades to realize.' I sourly said.

'I'm a slow man, Lovi.' Antonio chuckled. '…but slow or not, I do know that getting angry about having the Netherlands as our wedding official isn't going to bring us anywhere. I'm sure my boss, or your boss, or his boss, or _Hungary_ have a good explanation for choosing _him_ as our… well, priest-like thing.'

'Fuck you.' the Netherlands said.

'T-they _have_ a good reason for picking him!' Belgium quickly intervened, smiling at us before linking arms with her brother and me.

'…so… um, let's go ask them more about it, okay?~'

…

…well, okay.


	67. Bouncer

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Somehow, I managed to think of a butt-song that wasn't a suggestion made by __**Chibi-Foodly-Girl**__ – but don't worry, dear, after this chapter, I'll definitely need to use that long list of yours!_^^  
"_Ode to the Bouncer" is a song about a girl, wanting to go into a club, but this security guy, the bouncer, is preventing her from entering it. Cue hilarious and weird song that's currently a rather big hit in my country.  
_…_and that's why I think a butt can be a bouncer too. Right? I mean, it sure __**bounces **__(at least mine does), so… I'm using it for this chapter. Ode to the butt. Huzzah! _*spazzes*

_A/n2: One of my readers, the wonderful **Scarlet daydreamer**, pointed out to me that it would have made a lot more sense if… someone **else** had been the wedding official of Lovi/Toni's and Feli/Luddy's wedding instead of the Netherlands, and she's absolutely right about that someone else.  
__But I… well, I kinda forgot about him – so sorry for that!_^^;;;  
_Luckily, I managed to find a way to put some him in the fic as well – and that's why he's in this chapter (sort of), and also in more chapters after this one. It should be told that there really wasn't much canon information about him, but I tried my best to make something out of the info I could find. Hopefully, you'll like "my" version of him in the next chapter…  
_…_and you'll need to read this chapter to the end if you want to know what the hell I'm talking about._^^

_A/n3: Okay. Um, I have a small problem.  
__Right. So, I'm planning to do this "Thank You"-chapter after this fic's ended. Readers who know me from This Dance know what I'm talking about – it's the chapter in which I'm thanking all the readers and reviewers as personally as I can for their support.  
__Now, This Dance had a lot of reviews, and so, it cost me quite some time to make a nice "Thank You"-chapter.  
__B-but… well, Bottoms-Up! has… um, a… fewwwww more reviews. And therefore, a… fewwwwww more reviewers. And I want to thank all those reviewers. All those people who keep coming back to this massive fic for some reason.  
__BUT OH MY GOD. HOW. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. _0_0;;;  
_I need to thank the lurkers. The signed-in reviewers. The anonymous reviewers. The people who made fanart and/or fanfics for me. Mony. Nadia (yes, I'm stalking you too~). My red coat that keeps me warm at night. You know the drill.  
__So – give me suggestions, if you want.  
__How do **you** want me to thank you for your support?_

…

_Also, I really need to stop **rambling** in my A/n's._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVII:

_**Ode to the Bouncer  
**__**(Studio Killers)**_

Now, about the Big Random Room – and Antonio's House in general.

The Big Random Room was…

A big, random room.

…

Yeah. Total shocker, I know. Bet that blew you off your chair.

As I was saying before, the Big Random Room was hardly ever used. That's because Antonio just had way too many rooms in his way too gigantic House and I was seriously wondering myself every now and then how the hell he was able to keep on living in such a palace like his House, since the House of Spain was so damn _big_ and _luxurious_ – and therefore incredibly _ironic_ these days.

Especially when a single, poor man like Antonio lived in that same House – somebody who barely had enough money to buy himself new, non-shabby clothes and had to grow his own food in his back garden.

…

It really was kind of sad if you thought about these facts too much, but simple-minded Antonio _loved_ living like this – and if I had to be honest, so did I.

Which was amazing, since I actually _did_ have this ridiculously large brain.

…

Stop snickering, I'm being dead _fucking_ serious here.

…

…well okay, _okay_, maybe my brain wasn't _that _big after all. But it still was a whole lot bigger than Antonio's. And that's something.

YES it IS.

…

Anyway…

Despite the haunting emptiness of most rooms and the oldness of all the furniture, I still thought Antonio's House was pretty fucking _awesome_.

It had a nice ambiance, nice architecture-style, nice colors, nice paintings and nice wallpaper – what _else _do you want from a decent house, really.

…

And yet…

...nice House or not, I had to admit that during storms and wintertime, things could get a bit creepy and dangerous in his House… and more than once, he and I both had to leave the bedroom at night when it was storming outside, because we needed to place weird little cups and bowls all over the creaking place to prevent the carpet and other old, dusty things from getting soaking wet (which didn't help much anyway, because there was this one huge hole in his roof that always ruined everything, no matter how passionately and how many cups and buckets Antonio put underneath it).

Plus, Antonio's House was a very _cold_ House. A fucking _igloo _House, even. Central heating? What's a central heating? Never heard of that. But rumor says it must be a _wonderful _thing to have during the winter…

…and yes, I'm obviously just _kidding_ here, of course. I'm not fucking _stupid_, I _know_ what a fucking central heating is – the neighbors always use it to prepare their food with it, I think they call it their "grill" or something.

…

…maybe because it actually _is _their gri—

Moving on.

So Antonio's House didn't have a central heating. That sucked, I admitted that.

**But**.

Antonio _did _have a nice, big fireplace, and that was a very _very _good thing. We pretty much _camped _in front of the fireplace during the wintery months, which could be a lot of fun (because sneaky camp sex hooray), but which could be life-threatening as well (because sometimes the blankets caught on fire _during _the sneaky camp sex hooray _oh __**FUCK**_).

Also, the toilets.

There just _weren't_ enough toilets in this _damned_ House.

Or the toilets all just… _spontaneously_ went to play hide-and-seek whenever I had to go, and when that happened, I was always "it".

Do you KNOW how NERVE-WRECKING that is?

My bladder does.

My bladder fucking _hates_ me.

Luckily, whether I was looking for a toilet like a nervous wreck or not, I _always_ found at least one toilet during my panicky toilet-haunts in the night.

…

Okay, _most_ of the time, then.

Or I just grabbed a lonely cup. Very convenient.

…

A-and that's all I have to say about that.

…

Moving on again…

U-um, so.

The Big Random Room. Yup. We were all heading that room's way now – while _feverishly_ speculating why the _Netherlands_, of _all_ nations, would have been picked as the wedding official.

I mean… it really _was _strange. Right?

…

Maybe I should just ask him what _he_ thought about it.

He _probably_ knew more about it.

Yeah.

Yeah, definitely.

I was sure about it.

**xXx**

The Netherlands answered my burning question concerning the matter with a default clueless expression.

'Don't ask me. I know as much as you do.'

…

…

…ah.

That's never a good thing to hear.

'My boss just came to me a couple of days ago and asked me if I could do a tiny little something for her. Just a minor distraction, she promised me.' he carried on with a casual shrug with his shoulders.

I glared daggers… no, big, shiny _swords_ at him, feeling _deeply_ insulted, of course.

'Minor distraction? _What_! Doesn't that Queen of yours know it's my _wedding _we're talking about here!'

'Yes, I also told her it would be more than just a _minor _distraction for me.' Netherlands nodded.

I snorted triumphantly.

'Heh, you bet your fucked-up piercing hairdo the wedding's going to be more than just a minor distract—hey now _**wait **_a minute, _what _did you just say?'

'I'm thinking about boycotting everything Spanish.'

…

…

_Wow_ now.

I stared at him.

'…um, no. You… didn't say that at all.'

'But I was _thinking_ about it.' the Dutchman very reasonably pointed out.

…

Well, okay.

…

Even though it didn't make a lot of sense the Dutchman was yapping about, I, _naturally_, just as easily switched from subject as he had done, since I'm so fucking social and amazing and everything.

And having the attention-span of a fly helped al lot, too.

'You want to boycott everything Spanish?' I therefore said in disbelieve, '…you can't fucking boycott _everything_ Spanish, Netherlands. That's like… boycotting half of the _world_!'

'And _me_!' Antonio, who had been eavesdropping of course, unnecessarily added.

'Plus, you can't boycott everything Spanish – your nation and Queen wouldn't let you!' I carried on, sending a "don't-get-involved-you-dork"-glare Antonio's way.

'I _know_ I can't.' The blond Dutchman made an annoyed face at the two of us. 'That's why I'm just _thinking_ about it.'

'Oh.' I said. 'Figures.'

'It's a _**mental**_ boycott.'

'Sure, sure.'

The Netherlands didn't pay attention to my sneering tone and smirked menacing at Antonio, putting on his pipe.

'How about (_puff_) _that_, Spain? I've (_puff_) mentally boycotted (_puff puff_) the _hell_ of your Spanish ass already.'

I had thought Antonio would just happily middle-fingerwave it away and ignore the crap out of the annoying Dutchman, but he _gasped _in _terror_ and pointed a warning finger at his former colony.

'Oh yeah? Well, in _that_ case, I'll… I'll mentally boycott _you_, too!'

Netherlands narrowed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

'No (_ffffffftt_)… no more mental Dutch money for _you_, then.'

'I don't _need _your smelly mental Dutch money – I've just mentally made myself all wealthy and top-notch again!'

The Netherlands raised his eyebrows and forgot to exhale for a second.

'You did?'

'Yes!' Antonio grinned.

'You mean you're mentally an economically wealthy European country again?'

'It would _amaze_ you how mentally economically wealthy I am!'

'Maybe I suddenly mentally like you.'

'That's wonderful!' Antonio laughed in delight, '…mentally spoken, of course.'

'Of _course_.' Netherlands nodded.

'You heard that, Lovi?~' The Spaniard now beamed an exciting and cheerful smile at me, '…the Netherlands and I are best buds!~'

'Mentally spoken, of course.' The Netherlands rapidly added.

'Of _course_.' Antonio agreed.

I glinted wearily at the both of them.

'You're both _mental_, alright.'

'And you're _gay_.' Netherlands countered, puffing.

Antonio grinned teasingly while poking my cheeks. 'Ahahaha! You're _gay_, Lovi!'

'Wha – so are _you_, you brainless _jackass_!' I nagged, slapping his hand away. '…hell, there's hardly anybody gayer than _you_!'

'He _mentally _isn't gay.' the Dutchman reasoned.

'Oh please just _SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THE MENTAL SHIT ALREADY_!'

'**HEY**!'

The sharp and thunderously-yelled **HEY **instantly shut us all up.

Belgium, who had been quietly suffering under my, Antonio's and her brother's pointless discussing all this time, had all of a sudden made a pretty impressive turn on her high (and really cutesy, trendy) heels, and she was now firing _immensely_ angry glares at the three of us that effectively caught our attention – and made us cringe a bit in surprise.

'Y-you rang, Femke?~' Antonio stammered, trying to joke a little bit to lighten the mood.

It didn't work, though.

'No, _Antonie_ – I **yelled**! How _else_ am I supposed to get your attention!'

The blonde woman wrinkled her nose and forehead, the happy cat-smile no-where in sight. There _was _this creepy, dark _tiger_-_smirk_ on her face, though…

…

…h-holy _shit_, she looked exactly like _Hungary_ when mad!

But how's that possible, she's totally different from Hungary!

Maybe… maybe _all _girls looked like Hungary when mad…

ALL of them!

_**Damn**_!

No fucking _wonder_ I preferred dicks.

'Now…~' Belgium then sweetly said _**but not really**_, '…I know the three of you are all _very_ busy with saying stupid and uninteresting things to each other, but personally, I think it would be _wonderful_ if you all could just **shut up** and keep quiet!'

She harshly stroke some loose strands of hair out of her face, what could have looked really cute and endearing if she didn't have this _**murderous**_ aura hanging around her.

'I'm… I'm really happy the three of you are able to have – admittedly unsettling – conversations with each other without somebody losing his self-control, but your collective rattling is driving me **insane**. _Really_. Besides… there are people _sleeping_ here! Show some respect already!'

'S-sorry, sorry…' Antonio mumbled.

'…what he said.' Belgium's brother muttered, looking away.

I didn't apologize, though – I blinked.

'People sleeping here? You mean there are… _more _living creatures sleeping in the House right now, Belgium?'

She frowned at me and folded her arms.

'_Sleeping_? No, not _anymore_, I think. Thanks to **you** guys. You must feel **so proud**.'

'…h-hey, don't look at _me_, _they_ made the loud noises!' I sputtered instinctively, getting anxious from her eerie greenish stare, '…a-and I don't want to change the subject, but… who else has spent the night here?'

But Belgium, who was still very pissed – I think the fact we had all kind of ignored her during the mental-discussion had played a big part in her moodswing as well – ignored me and started walking again.

'Just… just keep up with me, will you.'

Guiltily, the Netherlands, Antonio and I followed her.

Antonio walked right next to me – and after walking a few meters in complete silence, he let out a bitter chuckle.

'…ah, I don't know _how_, or _why_, but I think I somehow… just… keep on _hurting_ her. Even though I _really_ don't want to.'

'Welcome in _my_ world.' the Netherlands mumbled with a deep, low sigh.

'You can't help it. You're _men_ – you _barbarians _will never understand the vulnerable, delicate feelings of a woman.' I heard myself say.

Netherlands and Antonio _immediately_ snapped their heads my way and gave me genuinely _worried_ looks.

'…a-and neither will _I_, dammit!' I hastily said (but not too loudly), '…since I'm a _**man**_! A very manly and _brute_ man! I _stampede_ over everything feminine! I get confused during activities like sharing emotions and talking about my feelings! I eat tons of fast-food in the middle of the night! I pee on the toilet seat! Like a _**man**_!'

Antonio laughed softly. 'Ahh, but you _never_ do anything like that, sweetie!~'

'SHUT UP_, _ANTONIO.'

'Why? It's true! You're way too nice and sensitive and understanding to do over-the-top-heterosexual-and-or-masculine stuff like that!~'

Oh GOD!

'I-I said _shut up_, dammit! God, _don't_ make me look like some kind of wussy _fag_ in front of that broad pothead!' I hissed at my fiancé, casting nervous looks in the Netherlands' direction.

'Too late.' said broad pothead bluntly said. 'Fag.'

_Fuck_.

So much for pulling off a tougher image.

'But that's okay.' the Dutchman immediately carried on, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets, '…I've got nothing against wussy fags, or creepy lesbians, or gay people in general. Heh, I was the first nation to _allow_ persons like you to get married and shit. It's just _normal_. Be what you want to be already. See if I care.'

'But—'

'And now I'm going to walk away.'

And then he, just like he said, resolutely turned his back on us, speeding up a little bit more to catch up with his moping and fuming sister. Just like _that_.

'Wha— _hey_! Shit, can you believe that damn bastard?' I growled with a flustered face, watching him go, '…suddenly ditching us in the middle of a very interesting debate like that… _damn _that anti-social _jackass_!'

Antonio, however, smiled, looking surprised.

'Ah… I guess even jerks like him can get embarrassed when saying something nice…'

'What?' I asked him, confused.

He chuckled and shook his head.

'Nothing, nothing…'

Then he took my hand in his again, smoothly slid his fingers in-between mine and gave me a few soft, playful squeezes.

'…ah, but about the other persons that are staying at our place, sweetie… you _really_ thought the four of us where the only ones here? Even with the wedding being tomorrow and everything?'

'No – I thought the _two _of us were the only ones here.' I huffed, gently squeezing back, '…well, the two of us and Germany and Feliciano, then. But they don't really count, since they're part of the wedding as well and therefore just like us.'

'Aha.'

'You don't get it, do you.'

'Well, you have this interesting way of putting words…'

'I don't want to hear it.'

Antonio grinned and gave me a curious look.

'Anyway, putting you and your lovely poetical ambitions aside – ouch, don't punch me there, it's _tender_! – there currently **are** more persons in the House now than just you, me, Feli, Germany and the two Benelux-siblings, yes.'

I blinked. 'Who else is here, then?'

'Well, who do you _think_ is here?~'

I stared at him with a super-straight face.

'**Satan**.'

Antonio looked troubled.

'I'm serious, Lovi.'

'What, you think I'm not?' I frowned – because really, I was serious as fuck.

I mean, if you could invite _nations_ over to your House, then why not Lucifer himself? Who knows, maybe he even liked sleepovers with sinful, homosexual personifications.

…

That didn't even sounded _that_ stupid to me.

…

Let's try not to think about it too much, shall we?

'You're serious about Satan then?' Antonio suddenly (and thankfully) distracted me from my thoughts, and scratched his chin. '…well, if you really mean it… no. Satan's not here. And he won't be here tomorrow, either. Unless you sent him an invitation.'

'No fucking _way_.' I said, shivering.

He shrugged. 'No Satan tomorrow, then.'

'Well _good_. That means the weddings won't turn out _completely_ hellish tomorrow.' I muttered grumpily.

'Ah, how I love your optimism…'

'I know you do.'

The Spaniard laughed at that and brought my hand to his lips, kissing some of my fingers.

'Okay, I'll help you with the nation-guessing. Now, you know the Netherlands stayed here after the dancing last night, and so did Femke. If you think about what our Belgian waffle-magician told us before, you know, about the key-characters at the wedding and all, then who _else _do you think has slept over at our place?~'

'That French fuckface, that Japanese weirdo and that German, white-haired albino-freak.' I instantly said, proving to the whole wide world my brain **indeed** was larger than Antonio's. In your _face_, world.

'Yes!~' Antonio indeed cheered, '…not really sure what to say or feel about the cussing or the undeserved friend-bashing, but yes, you're right! Gilbert and Francis are here as well, if I have to believe Hungary's schedule!~'

'Eww. You mean that _all_ of our best men have stayed over for the night? _Gross_.' I shuddered and stuck out my tongue. 'Remind me to remake the bed later.'

Antonio smiled awkwardly. '…they… _probably_ didn't all sleep in _one_ bed, Lovi.'

'Oh.'

I fell silent for a second.

'…well… okay, remind me to remake _all _the beds later.'

My fiancé amusedly raised his eyebrows and was about to make a comment on my – indeed not _very_ carefully thought-over – request, when the doors of the bedroom close to the stairs were swung open from the inside.

Almost simultaneously, my stupid little brother and my stupid brother-in-law-to-be (**gah the horror of it all**) came _strutting _out of the room, the both of them looking very happy and cute and… well, _exactly_ like me and Antonio, to be completely honest, only less perfect and more German – but that shouldn't be a surprise.

I forgot the bed(s) and the importance of remaking them all and instead watched the Italian-German duo in front of us, hesitating between calling out to them (because I'd like to know if my brother was feeling better now) and _not_-calling out to them (because I'd be confronted with the **Germany **and I didn't want to be confronted with the **Germany**)…

…but before I could even decently think things over, Feliciano decided to make a full spin on the tip of his toes (don't ask me why, my brother's the biggest freak of nature since _nature_) and he therefore just happened to cast a light-brownish glance our way, shortly after throwing the fluffy yellow bathrobe he was wearing back into his and Germany's temporary bedroom.

And it landed on _me_.

…

His _glance_, I mean. _Not_ his hideous robe. Ugly yellow thing. _Brrrr_.

Anyhow, Feliciano firstly just blinked a bit when he noticed me, as if he wasn't sure what he saw was reality, but then he smiled broadly and let go of Germany's arm, running/skipping/frolicking towards me – while waving and saying "veee", of course.

'Veee, big brother Lovi! Hi! _Hiiiii_!~' he chirped.

'Yeah, good morning, Felici—_oof_!'

I was cut off when my younger brother mercilessly _pounced _on me and wrapped his arms and hands and legs (even the _legs_) around me, all while laughing and beaming smile after smile at me.

'Lovi, Lovi! How are you feeling, big brother? Are you feeling better? You are, aren't you?~ You have some color on your cheeks again! Or is that because Big Brother-In-Law Toni was doing pervy stuff with you? Veee! I'm so _happy_ to see you!~'

'GET OFF ME!' I nagged and pushed against his chest until I successfully _ripped _him off me.

But, _naturally_, that didn't discourage Feliciano – hell, except for a world-wide shortage on pasta, _nothing _could discourage Feliciano! – and he now went for my hands, brutally and painfully _sealing _our hands to one another (good thing Antonio had let go of my hand as soon as my brother started attacking me), grinning so fucking _excitedly_ and _joyfully _and _blissfully _at me, that… t-that I couldn't even get mad at him for grabbing me like some… I don't know, happy-go-lucky rapist or something, dammit.

'Hey hey, Lovi? Guess what, Lovi? Guess what!~' Feliciano stammered, already almost breathless as he started bouncing up and down.

'W-what!' I growled back, automatically moving a bit with him because…

…

…I don't know.

It just happened.

Like life. Life happens as well.

And don't forget the shit.

Because shit happens, too.

Maybe even more often than life.

…

But I'm digressing again.

'Veee…'

Feliciano's eyes shone at me like two… two brownish light bulbs in the middle of a very dark… darkness. Now _that's _dark.

'Just _one_ more night, big brother…' he said, '…one more night, and then… then…'

He bit his lower lip, almost unable to control his (actually pretty contagious) enthusiasm.

'…then _Italia_ is getting married, Lovi!~'

Oh. That's true.

That… that made me quiet for a bit. It made my mouth fall open a bit, too.

Finally, I felt a smile tugging hard on the corners of my open mouth… and the familiar sensation of my cheeks, filling themselves with that annoying fluid that caused my face to light up like a fucking… alarm, the hell I know.

'…y-yeah…' I managed to say, nodding slowly, '…you're right, we're going to get married tomorrow… _Italy_ is going to get married tomorrow… _God_…'

Feliciano nodded as well and continued to bite his lip, a red hue also appearing on _his _face.

'Veee… looks like we're growing up at last…'

'Yeah…'

He chuckled. 'W-we're actually becoming _adults_ now, Lovi!~'

I also laughed. 'Yeah! Creepy as hell, I know!'

'It's so hard to believe!~'

'Yes! Yes, it is!'

'And… veee, we… we got so _lucky_, don't you think so?'

Feliciano's voice had gotten quieter, yet his eyes still stubbornly sparkled in the dim hallway.

I looked at him, questioning, not really knowing what he was trying to say – until I saw Germany and Antonio standing right behind him, having a similar conversation as me and my brother.

While watching _them_, and especially _him_, mostly _him_, standing there like that, I felt myself breathing in deeply, shakily, squeezing Feliciano's hands tightly.

'Yes… we're very lucky, Feliciano… We're very, _very _lucky.'

'Uh-huh!~' Feliciano grinned proudly. 'And… veee, you know what, Lovi?'

'What?'

'So are _they_.'

He gave me a determined smile.

'Lucky, I mean.'

…

I stared back at my younger brother. I didn't say anything, I just smiled a bit.

Yeah.

Yeah, they were.

They sure as fucking _hell _were.

And they _knew_ they were. Y-you could tell from their eyes.

…

And…

…and that only made Feliciano and me luckier to have them, really…

**XxX**

A lot of awkward bro-hugging, fiancé-staring and quasi-pervy "what-are-_you_-gonna-do-to-him-tomorrow-night?~"snickering (I didn't answer that last question of his, by the way) later, me, Feliciano and our respectively husbands-to-be had to run the ever-loving _shit_ out of our shoes _through_ a couple of halls and _off_ a couple of stairs, in order to catch up with Belgium and the Netherlands (who walked _insanely _fast without even _trying_, dammit) again.

And _no_, I _don't_ recommend it.

Running through the halls and off the stairs.

Fucking _risky_. _Don't_ do it.

And don't believe those crappy TV-series and movies in which the whole family/circle of friends is _brotherly _and _happily _storming _en masse _off the stairs either, because I seriously think I was lucky to still be _alive_.

I mean, I was running off the stairs just now and I was almost and "accidentally" _squished flat _against the wall by that German bastard, who was thinking we were having a _race_ for some reason, and probably pictured his fucking _Autobahn _laying in front of himinstead of Antonio's suicide-stairs as me _smooshed _me in his hurry to get downstairs.

…

Yeah_ okay,_ he apologized right away afterwards, but that's not the _point_. It still hurt, and I was limping by the time we finally caught up with the other two nations, and I swore I'd never touch that fucking stairs again, never _ever_, unless I had to go to bed.

…

What? Mental scars or not, I _wasn't_ planning to sleep on the damn _couch _for the rest of my life, dammit! My bed was _way_ too soft for that!

…

So anyway, while Feliciano surprise-strange-attacked Belgium from behind and Germany began a boring conversation with the Dutchman (who should have been **reading **instead of talking, dammit) about money and some upcoming football-match between their countries and shit, Antonio decided to pay some more attention to me and my sad little limpy walk.

'Are you okay, Lovi? You're walking kind of… weird…' he asked me, after observing me uncomfortably lifting up and putting down my feet for a few meters.

'No! I'm _not_ okay!' I huffed/whined/said with gritted teeth, '…you think I walk like this for _fun_? _Fuck_ no! I'm in fucking _pain _here because of that German bodybuilder!'

'Ah, so _you_ were the one that was screaming on the stairs…'

'N-NO I WASN'T!'

'Aww, my poor little Lovi…~'

'I'm NOT poor or little!'

Antonio smiled at me and stopped me from walking/crawling further by grabbing my arm.

'…ah, if you're really in so much pain right now, I could help you, my love.'

'…help me?' I frowned.

'Yes – wait, allow me to demonstrate…'

And the Spanish jackass didn't even wait for me to give him my official permission when he suddenly scooped me up in his arms, causing me to let out a startled, but naturally **very**_ heavy-voiced_ yelp.

'W-what the fuck do you think you're _doing_, you ass!' I sputtered too surprised to protest when he calmly carried me (carried me bridal-style – fucking _bridal-style_) with him to the other nations, humming a cheerful little song I faintly recognized from the past.

'I'm just helping you, sweetie.' he patiently said in-between two hums, smiling yet another bright smile at me as he softly pressed the side of my (already warmer) face against his chest.

'I-I didn't say you should fucking _carry _me…' I tried again, but didn't struggle, not at _all _even, because… well… I… was lying pretty… comfortable, actually.

Not that I had expected anything else from Antonio. He was a pro at making me feel better and _oh_, I loved his arms. Love love LOVED them…

I sighed, as _quietly_ as I could, because if Antonio heard how much I was enjoying this, that devoted bastard would never let me walk on solid ground again. And that would just be inconvenient.

…

…of course, I was feeling kind of embarrassed as well – I swear I'd fucking _shame-explode _right on the _spot _if Feliciano or Belgium or _anybody _of the nations in front of us would suddenly turn around – but…

…

…w-well, for _now_, I was okay with it.

I mean… it _did _make me feel kind of special.

…

I-I liked feeling special.

Especially when _Antonio_ was the one making me feel special.

Then I suddenly heard him laugh – gently.

'You're really liking this, aren't you, Lovi?~ Being carried around like a spoiled prince…'

'I… I don't want to say.' I mumbled, not knowing (or _wanting_, really) anything else to say, fidgeting.

His eyes seemed to become just a little bit bigger and greener when he heard that.

'You don't want to say… ah, that's too bad. I'm sure the answer would be so _cute_ and so very _wonderful_ for me to know…'

'You'll _never_ know.' I stubbornly snorted.

'I think I _do_ know, though…~'

'Y-you know _nothing_.'

'I know enough…~'

'N-no you don't…'

'And that reminds me!'

Antonio now looked at me with glowing-red cheeks, his hand around my shoulders caressing me softly.

'…Lovino, were you saying sweet things about me earlier?~'

'W-_what_?'

'You know, when you were talking to Feli and when I was trying hard to have a conversation about Germany that _wasn't_ about developing a economical finance-plan to "save" my country… were you saying nice things about me?~'

I stared at him, looking for words.

'…w-what makes you think that?' I finally managed to say casually.

Antonio was quiet for a second and frowned deeply. But then he suddenly – _hop_! – raised me up some more and resolutely wrapped my legs around his waist, so that I was now facing him – and pretty much grinding against him as well.

I gasped and hastily clamped my hands around his shoulders, firing an angry glare at him.

'…a-and what the hell are you're doing _now_, dammit!'

'You know what I'm doing.'

Antonio smiled and pushed me against him, supporting my butt (oh _god_) and entire sitting being with his arms.

'I want to find out what sweet things you said about me, sweetie – and don't deny it, I _knew_ you did, I saw you smiling very lovingly at me. So… well, I figured you're probably more likely to answer me if I told you – while holding you like this – that I told Germany great things about you, too…'

I closed and opened and closed and opened my eyes for a little while.

'… you told him great things about me?'

'Of course!~' Antonio grinned excitedly at me and pressed an impulsive, quick kiss on my lips.

'…l-like what?' I (somewhat huskily) asked as soon as he pulled back.

'Oh no, no no no…~' he started, patting my butt "thoughtfully" while he beamed a mysterious smile at me, '…_you_ tell what you told Feli, first.'

'…that's unfair.'

He pouted. 'It's _very_ fair!'

I groaned and grumped and scowled and made really angry faces, but…

…

…well, in the end, I still wanted to know what he had said about me to that German willow.

'O-okay.' I breathed in and out and licked my lips. '…I… I didn't say much, really… I was just… agreeing with Feliciano on a certain… little something…'

Antonio moved his face _so_ closely to mine that our noses were touching.

'Agreeing on _what_ little something, my love?~'

I frowned and blushed furiously.

'…that we are lucky to have you.'

'Ah… that's so nice of you, but… we're incredibly lucky to have _you_, too, you know…' Antonio stammered in a soft voice.

I couldn't push away a small, victorious smile that was suddenly stuck on my face and shyly looked away from him.

'…y-yeah, I know.'

'You're so sweet, Lovi… so _sweet_…'

'S-stop embarrassing me, dammit…'

'Lovino.'

'What.'

He grabbed my chin and turned my face back towards his.

'Kiss me, sweetie.'

I huffed and growled and furrowed my brows even more when hearing that and seeing those damn beautiful emerald eyes of his, but I still wound my arms around his neck pretty fucking rapidly, half-closing my eyes when I brought his blushing face (oh _god_, too fucking _adorable_) closer to mine and closing them completely as I felt him _abruptly_ moving his face forwards, kissing me enthusiastically and hungrily.

H-he even had to stop walking for a minute – _that_ hungrily.

And it was fantastic and magical and maybe even kind of dirty, until my curiosity won it from my need to keep on kissing that hot Spaniard – and I ended the kiss with a wet and gross and delicious _pop_.

'…n-now…' I murmured, swallowing, '…_your_ turn, dammit…'

'…t-to kiss you? Okay!~' Antonio hoarsely, but happily said and was about to smear our lips together again – but I stopped him by shoving a hand in his face.

'N-_no_, you oblivious _fuck_ – it's your turn to tell me what you told Germany about _me_!'

'Ohhh…' Antonio nodded. '…hey, does that mean I can kiss you too if I tell you?~'

Oh _yesyesyesyes _I thought, but I said something else.

'M-maybe. Depends on what you say.'

'Okay… well…'

The Spanish brunette looked at me with a dreamy sparkle in his eyes.

'…I told Germany you have the finest ass of all the fine asses I've seen in my whole life.'

…

…

…

My face fell.

'…was _that_ one these "great things" you've told Germany about me?' I slowly asked him, to be sure.

'Yes!~' He grinned, looking very satisfied, and expectantly leant towards me again – only to welcome not my lips, but the sleeve of my _shirt_ with his mouth as I fanatically started rubbing the fabric over his lips.

'Ouwbch!' he shrieked, '…Bovi, b-bwhat are yoo doin—'

'Are you fucking _kidding _me?' I hissed, '…you mean I said such an embarrassing thing in return for a perverted comment like _that_? You _blockhead_! G-give it back, give my kiss back _this _instant, you don't deserve it!'

Antonio was _shocked _and shook his head. 'Gbive it back? No, it's _bwmine_! Yoo gave it to mwe and I'm _kweeping_ it!'

'Give it back _now_!'

'_Mwnever_!'

'Oh my god, I _swear_ that if you don't give it back, I'll—'

_Thud_.

_Smack_.

…

Just a split-second later (at least it felt like a split-second), Antonio had softly bumped against somebody else's back, and that movement (and back) alone was more than enough to push me closer towards Antonio's face and promptly kiss him – _full_ on the mouth.

I stared at him with eyes wide open – and so was Antonio, and I was about to either push that cocky jerk off me or just… relax and l-let him get away with it, when Antonio made the decision a lot easier for me by pulling back slowly.

And then he laughed, gently, and carefully stroke a finger over my lower lip.

'…looks like I gave it back anyway…'

…

I-I just blushed. And nodded.

And just when everything seemed to be okay again…

'_Hey_.'

All of my happy feelings were suddenly pushed away a bit when I heard the deep voice of the Netherlands somewhere behind me and _oh god don't tell me we collided with HIM._

I gulped and looked over my shoulder.

Two pale, green eyes looked right back at me, a fierce _thunderstorm _brewing inside of them.

Oh.

Well what do you know, it _was_ the Netherlands.

What a surprise.

'First you refuse to pay me 10 euros. Then you yank on my sleeve like it's a piece of rag. And _now _you're even letting that Spanish asshole use me as a _wall _to molest you against.'

The blond Dutchman clenched the tip of his pipe in between his teeth creepily.

'… I sure hope you have a good lawyer, Romano.'

'Hey, _you _suddenly stopped walking!' I defended myself right away, '…hell, if you had just continued to walk, Antonio would have never crashed into you and he would have never gotten away with his asshole-behavior that easily!'

'Yes – and I should thank you for that!~' Antonio grinned, awkwardly reaching out a hand to the Netherlands.

'Touch me and you're **dead**.' said nation warned.

Hints of immense annoyance, disappointment and _hurt_ flashed over Antonio's face, before he quickly pulled back his hand.

'Got it, got it…'

The Netherlands made a snorting noise and focused his attention on his yadayadayada-for-dummies-book again – and to be honest, it really seemed like he was doing his best to read it as fast and carefully as he could, but…

…I seriously wondered if this was even going to _work_ this way.

I mean, there obviously was a lot of hate between Antonio and Netherlands, especially from the Dutchman's side…

…

…

There _better _be a good reason why _he _was our wedding official, dammit…

Anyway, there _was_ a reason why the Netherlands had been standing still – and that was because we had (FINALLY) reached the Random Room. Belgium and Germany were just checking their map (…_seriously_?) really quickly to be absolutely sure we had the right random room, namely _the_ Random Room, before they turned towards us at last, big and proud grins on their faces – well, okay, on _Belgium's_ face – when they told us the good news.

'Yes! It's the right room!~' Belgium said to our awaiting faces, intertwining her hands together excitedly, '…come on, come on, Hungary and the rest must be waiting for us!~'

And so, we entered the Random Room.

…

Better late than never.

**XxX**

When the (one, two…) six of us walked into the Random Room, we were greeted with a _stunningly_…

…

…_boring_ room, really.

…

Well, that was an anti-climax. I could tell why this room was called random – it even _looked _random.

Just a random room with random red carpet, random beige wallpaper and random windows, that were too big to be called small, but too small to be called big.

There were a lot of old, wooden chairs gathered in the room, all facing one direction and standing neatly in line, a small, but neat empty path leading from the back of the room to the front of the room, straight through the chair-desert spread out in front of us.

And standing there, in the distance, on the other side of the room, were five persons:

Hungary, who was waving at us and made weird gestures that probably meant we should come over immediately (so we purposely lingered a bit);

Prussia, who was an albino-freak;

France, who was and had a fuckface;

Dr. Tosca, who apparently also still was around;

And…

…

…some old, bearded geezer I didn't recognize right away.

…

But I felt that I really _should _recognize him, so I asked Antonio to put me down – yes, _now_, no, you can't kiss me again, dammit, a-at least not right _now_ – and went to talk with Feliciano.

'Hey…' I started, nodding in the direction of the stern-looking man several meters away from us, '…that elderly man over there… doesn't he look… _familiar _to you, too, Feliciano?'

'Yes.' Feliciano simply said.

'He is, right?' I deepened my frown. '…I don't know who he is, but something tells me he isn't human. He's one of _us_, I think… But I don't know who he could—'

'It's brother Desiderius, Lovi.'

I immediately gave my younger brother a long and somewhat alarmed look.

'…brother Desiderius? For… for _real_?'

Feliciano nodded meekly.

'Yes. I'm sure.'

'O-oh _fuck_, I think you're right, I recognize him now, too…' I cussed under my breath. '… but what's hedoing here? And _why_? I thought he had said he never wanted to talk to us again when he found out that we were… you know…'

'Veee… I know, but he's still… _here_, though…' Feliciano muttered.

For a minute, neither one of us knew what to say or do. We just stood there, frozen…

…until Antonio's light and oblivious laughter broke the painful silence echoing through the room.

'Ah? I didn't know you two had invited Vatican City as well!~'


	68. Buttercup

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**FF has been bugging me all day with its annoying "cannot find chapter" errors. I hope I've solved the problem now...**

_A/n1: Well, here it is – a new chapter, with Buttercup as the title-name. It's just one of the many, **many** butt-suggestions made by the lovely **Chibi-Foodly-Girl**. Thanks again, dear, wherever and whoever you might be! _

_A/n2: Vatican City is in this chapter – and I know there might be a chance that some of you dislike the way I've portrayed him, so I hereby already say sorry to those who might feel offended, or insulted, or just very angry by reading about him. So sorry for that. But please, keep in mind that it's just fiction, okay?_^^ _Just the imagination of a weird twenty-something. Nothing more than that._

_A/n3: Now. I could tell you about the depressing news that hit Europe next week. Like… that France and Austria, along with a lot of other EU-nations, have lost their triple A-status, and therefore lost some of their credibility, according to some sort of investigation that's been done.  
__But I don't want to. Partly because I've had it up to **here **with the depressing Europe-shit, and partly because… well, I don't know what the hell "credibility" is, or what it means to lose it, or… whatever. I'm not good at economics or politics or anything that has got something to do with money, so I'm just ignoring all of that for now.  
__Instead, I'll recommend a song I've heard on the radio a couple of days ago. It's a song from Toploader (he's from Dancing in the Moonlight – you've heard of him, yes you have) and it's called Achilles Heel.  
__It's kind of an old song already… but it's beautiful. And for some reason, it always makes me a bit emotional, whenever I hear it.  
__So… well, listen to it!~ And tell me what you thought of it. It would please me._^^

_A/n4: On with some happier news…  
__Last week, it was published what boys and girls names were most popular in the Netherlands during 2011 – and I always enjoy reading stuff like that (because that way, I know what names I definitely **won't** choose for MY kids, because I always need to be weird and original and tralalalalalala~).  
__Want to know the top 5 of both genders? Here they are…_

_For **girls**:_

_1: Emma  
__2: Julia  
__3: Sophie  
__4: Lotte  
__5: Isa_

_For **boys**:_

_1: Daan  
__2: Sem  
__3: Milan  
__4: Levi  
__5: Luuk_

…_and yes, because of certain reasons, I am kind of proud that Daan has got a first place._^^ _Yay!_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LVIII:

_**Build Me Up Buttercup  
**__**(The Foundations)**_

…

So.

It was hard to believe, but _there_ he was.

Desiderius Lucianus Gradus Gregorius Vargas (oh _boy_, and I thought _my _name was long), better known under his nation's name: Vatican City.

Yes. Vatican City. My and Feliciano's older brother.

What? No, Feliciano and I are not older than him, not at all, even. I mean – he has the beard, wrinkles, old man's appearance/smell and all…

…and he's (kind of) been around since, well… 313? Something like that? I'm not sure, because… well, brother or not, I'm not exactly _familiar_ with him, but if you _look _at the guy, you'll see it makes sense. Man's got a wild, but decent beard that, admittedly, kicks some royal _ass_. Yup.

Still, it took him quite some time to become an independed, self-made nation – I heard he was finally declared a nation somewhere in 1929 – but that had never slowed him down, really, since he always had been _acting _like a bossy nation long before that. And really… you've got to give him some credits for sticking around so long before _finally _getting his nation-title…

Maybe _that's _why he was so old?

Oh, the hell I know. The hell I _care_. I didn't like him anyway. Of all the siblings I had, I probably disliked Vatican City the _most_.

I… didn't even like to call him by his human name. I only did that when talking to other family members, like Feliciano, but… I'd never call Vatican City by his human name in front of Antonio, for example. I don't even know why. Maybe it's a rebellious thing. Could be.

…

Yeah, well, but anyway, answering Antonio's stupid question…

No, we didn't invite him.

I know I didn't invite him, I sure as fucking _hell_ didn't, and I just as surely know neither did Feliciano.

You see, we _didn't invite_ unnecessary nations/people. Easy.

Hell, even our own (ex)boss had told us we didn't have to invite stubborn old Vatican City, so we really had no reason, no reason at _all, _to invite him.

…

No, him still being our very own brother doesn't count as a reason.

…

I… I just…

I wasn't prepared for this. What was _next_, really – our _other_ estranged brother popping out of some chair while waving that idiotic, pink (again, _pink_) tire-like, floatable piece of crap around like some half-witted _maniac_?

_What_? I could see it happen, I really could.

But I didn't _want_ to see it happen!

I didn't want to think about stupid family-stuff like that, I already was worrying myself way too much about different kinds of shit anyway.

I didn't _need_ more problems!

I didn't _need_ more awkwardness!

And I _especially_ didn't need Vatican City to be here!

What was going on here!

And _**what**_ the _**hell**_ was he _**doing**_here, _**goddammit**_!

**xXx**

I don't know how long I've been standing there in the "aisle", staring at the old, white-haired man on the other side of the room, but it must have been pretty long, because when I finally came to my senses again (just a bit though), I noticed my mouth and throat felt dry from _gawking _at Vatican City. An unpleasant feeling.

Also, my hand was, once again, being held by Antonio, who was currently walking through the fake aisle with me.

Behind us, I heard Germany muttering something to Feliciano, who quietly mumbled something back. Sounded like he was also still a bit upset by all of this.

The Netherlands and Belgium were probably walking somewhere behind my brother and Germany, since I didn't saw them in front of us (how good of me to notice, am I sharp or am I sharp) and since I didn't smell any suffocating pipe-smoke, either.

'Hey, Lovino?'

I looked to the side, not immediately answering.

Antonio looked back, his eyebrows frowned and lowered – and that was kind of rare, seeing him frown like _that_. I had hardly _ever_ seen his eyebrows moving _that_ closely to his eyes. Not sure to snicker or stare at him because of that…

…but I apparently chose for the latter, since… well, since I was already doing that.

'Sweetie, you might grow tired of me asking you this, but… are you okay?' Antonio suddenly asked.

I felt I shrugged. And I looked away from him.

'I don't know, actually.'

Then I paused briefly to suck in my cheeks and bite on them before continuing.

'…Antonio, you think I _should_ feel okay?'

He hadn't expected that kind of reply and scratched his head.

'Uh… well… _yes_?'

'Why?'

'Why, you ask…'

From the corner of my eye, I vaguely noticed the Spaniard running his free hand through his thick, curly hair as he thought about my question for a while.

Other than that, I didn't notice that much, really.

…

Eventually, Antonio came closer to me, carefully moved my face back his way with just his forefinger and thumb, and beamed a big, blushy smile at me when our eyes made contact again.

'I think I know a few reasons why you should feel okay. Because you're getting married tomorrow, perhaps?~ To me? You know… your very happy and thankful Spanish boyfriend that's been loving, adoring and worshipping you each and every day since the moment you stumbled into his life?~'

And that was it.

That… that comment, that sweet, shy, loving comment.

That was all I needed.

_That_ was _all_ I needed to be able to _finally_ snap out of it, _right_ now, _really _snap out of it, out of my frustrated daze that had been bugging me since the moment I had laid my eyes on my estranged, elderly brother.

Thank god.

Thank _god_.

I blinked a few times – wow, that must have been a while since the last time I did that – and I didn't even _try_ to stop the flattered smile from appearing on my face after hearing those wonderful words.

'…g-god, you didn't have to say _that _much…'

'You're wrong. I _did _have to say that much. You looked like you needed it, my love…'

Antonio, who was still holding my face, kept on frowning. His thumb softly traced over my now upwardly-curved lips, his other fingers rested on my already-warmer-and-redder-than-his face.

Oh.

He still frowned, yes.

_Ohh_.

I breathed in and out as carefully as I could. I had to admit, frowning made him look really sexy. I mean, he also used to frown a lot shortly before climaxing and… well, I'd like that.

T-to see that, I mean. Him climaxing. Because of me.

Yes…

…

B-but maybe this isn't the right time or place to think about that.

'I-I'm fine now, I'm fine…' I therefore quickly muttered, smiling a bit to reassure him some more, '…I was just… I don't know, _bewildered_, I guess.'

Antonio's frown slowly started to disappear from his face, but it was still present when he responded to that soft-spoken comment of mine.

'…Lovi, Vatican City is your and Feli's brother, right?'

I put on a grim face.

'…yes, and you should know that already, moron, I _told_ you.'

…

…just once, really, but _still_, I _had_ told him about him.

'I know you told me about him. I was just checking, sweetie, just checking… I don't talk to him that often, after all. Like… well, never.'

Antonio smiled a bit.

'…hey, now that I'm thinking about it… when was the last time _you_ had contact with him, Lovi?'

'The last time I've had contact with him…' I repeated him, obediently walking after him after his hand had somehow found its way to mine again and encouragingly squeezed it.

'…I… oh, I have no idea. When the last time was I talked to him, I mean.' I eventually said, '…oh, wait, I think it was… shortly after I started dating you.'

'Really?'

'I'm not sure, but… yeah, I think so?'

'And… ah, forgive me for being so curious, but what was that last conversation with him about?'

I snorted and adjusted my pace until I was walking about as quickly as Antonio – _no_, that _didn't_ mean my leg felt a lot better already, I just was way too _unselfish_ and _good-hearted_ form _nature _to force Antonio to carry me all the way and besides, Hungary had a camera.

Speaking of camera's – I wonder where Japan was?

…

But moving on with my dialogue with Antonio…

'What our last conversation was about? Well, what do you _think _my last, angry conversation with Vatican City could have been about?' I heard myself ask Antonio, irritated.

Antonio hesitated.

'…uh… about religion and stuff?'

'No. Yes. A bit. A lot. Something like that…'

I sighed deeply.

'…you see, apparently, pretty soon after I started having… a relationship with you, somebody told him about that. I don't know who did – I just know that I one day got a very official letter from Vatican City in which he… um… well, _vividly _expressed his utter disgust and disappointment concerning my "sinful decision" to have, as he so nicely put it, "gruesome sexual intercourse" with a man, and, therefore, he was upset that I had "chosen for the Devil".'

Antonio clacked his tongue.

'Well I _know_ I'm not a saint, but I swear, the _nicknames_ they come up with these days…'

I chuckled, I couldn't help it.

'No no, _stupid_, he wasn't talking about _you_, he was talking about _the _Devil. You know, the one that lives in hell and all.'

'Ohh, the one of which you thought he was also staying over for the night!~'

…knew he would said that…

'…yeah, Antonio… _t-that_ one.'

Antonio immediately stopped grinning when he heard my serious, shaky tone of voice. He silently, almost _helplessly_ really, watched my troubled expression for a moment, before carefully carrying on.

'…so… in that letter, Lovino… in that letter, your older brother basically said that… you were taken by the Devil?'

'Yes.'

'Just because you had… fallen in love with me?'

'Y-yes.' I nodded, swallowing a heavy lump.

'…well, I understand that having casual sex with hordes of men, women and what-not can be considered sinful, and I'll be the first to admit that I've been a _huge_ sinner, but _you_…'

Antonio gave me a questioning look before smiling tenderly.

'…why would _you _be a sinner? The only thing _you _did was… seeing _more _than just the _sinful_ me, and… fall in love with me, _accept _me, really… so… everything we did after that, was done because… we loveeach other. Right? It was out of love. I mean, I think that's fairly normal to do when you love somebody… So what's so bad about it? What's so bad about _love_?'

I didn't answer, I just bit my lower lip. Harshly. I never seemed to go easy on that damn lip.

'_Nothing's_ wrong about that, is it? You taught me that yourself, sweetie. Love isn't bad…' Antonio continued with a confident smile, squeezing my limp hand again.

'…s-shit, how the hell should _I _know if it's wrong or not…' I mumbled, attempting to grip his hand firmer on my turn as well,

'…I-I don't know what my brother was thinking when he heard I was dating you. Maybe he thought you forced me or something… so that's why I called him. And that last conversation was all about… well, religion and sodomy and hell and the like.'

'Sounds awful.'

'I-it _was _awful.' I gulped. '…h-how would _you_ feel to get rejected and looked down upon by your own family because you had the nerve to fall in love with someone of your own sex?'

'Awful, definitely.'

'E-exactly…'

'…but that means that Feli…'

'Yes, he had had a similar conversation with Vatican City, _long_ before it was my turn to get snarled at. He hadn't ever wanted to tell anybody about it, not even _me_, but he finally cracked and spilled the beans when I actually _did _tell him about it.'

Antonio nodded, slowly and understanding.

'…and you and Feli never had contact with Vatican City ever since.'

'That's right.' I huffed, hastily rubbing the palm of my free hand in one my somewhat watery eyes (we were getting closer to Hungary and the rest now and I didn't want them to see me like this), '…and we were perfectly _fine _with that lack of contact. I was, Feliciano was, and I thought, I _thought_, Vatican City was okay with it as well. But… well, there he is!'

I glared at my brother, the older one, who was apparently just having a serious chat with (a strangely _composed_) Hungary while a nervous France and an uncomfortable Prussia watched them from a safe distance.

'Well, it IS strange…' Antonio then said, speaking with a softer voice than he had before since we were quickly getting closer to the others now,

'…I mean, _whoa_, if he really dislikes homosexuals that much, Lovi, he must be _dying _a little inside now, especially now he knows that there are _four_ of those homo-persons getting _married_ tomorrow, of which _two _are _related _to him!'

…

Well, that's just lovely.

NOT.

I wanted to give an annoyed and pissed-off stare at stupid Antonio and nag something like "well how very _nice_ of you to bluntly state out the painful and the obvious and all the other shit I probably should feel bad about like that, you dumb Spanish _fuck_", when we suddenly were – _bam_, just like that, standing _right_ in front of him.

Oh.

I all of a sudden found myself staring at the older man.

Oh.

That was fast.

I didn't even see it coming.

It happened so fast.

I swear didn't even see it coming.

…

But I _did_ see some dark clouds appearing in the icy-blue sky all of a sudden…

…metaphorically spoken, of course.

Un…

Unless the icy-blue sky of my metaphor represented Vatican City's cold, hard eyes, that were currently resting on me.

…

Their dead weight was close to unbearable.

**xXx**

Picture a nice old man in front of you.

Go on, do it.

…

What do you see?

You probably see something like a grandpa, right?

Yeah.

A nice, old man with a cryptic smile on his friendly, wrinkled, somewhat fallen, but strong face.

A nice, old man with a lot of deep thoughts and amazing secrets.

A nice, old man wearing fluffy, but simple slippers and an ugly, knitted green sweater with a weird motive.

Maybe… maybe even a tubby nice old man. A short, tubby, nice old man that didn't walk, but _shuffle_. With his arms folded on his back. That didn't laugh, but _roar_. Out loud, without thinking if it was okay to laugh like that. That seemed to have this eternal sparkle of contentment in his eyes.

…

God, it would have been nice if I had a cool grandpa like that.

But I didn't had a cool grandpa.

Not _anymore_.

I _did_ have an older brother.

And that older brother…

…well, he didn't looked like that nice old man you just pictured _whatsoever_.

Throw it out.

Throw all your nice thoughts of elderly men out of your system, _whop_, like that, out of the window with all of it… and look what remains.

…

Now_that's_ what Vatican City looked like.

Like an old, white-haired, white-bearded, tall, slim man with a straight, sharp and unforgiving pale face that seemed to have been _stapled _on. With cold, blue eyes that seemed to be grey or even _white _when the sun was attempting to warm them up.

Vatican City was… at _least_ a very_ disgruntled_ old man to see, wearing a long, black coat and white, religious robe with long, heavy sleeves and that was decorated with a big, golden cross, lines and other glittering symbols that always scared the living daylights out of me whenever I saw them or just happened to _think _of them, which, thankfully, wasn't that often these days anymore.

…

It was almost like… like he was emitting coldness…

His empty expression, piercing eyes, white skin…

Oh god, forget emitting coldness – he _was_ coldness.

…

…and to think – this was just the way he _**looked**_ like.

…

Now, before you start snarling at me for judging elderly books by its elderly covers and crap like that – hell, I honestly _wish_ I could say more about his personality, but… well, he didn't have that much of that, I'm afraid…

…and _if_ he had any of that, I had never seen it.

…

I had only spoken with him when he was in religious-mode, after all, and I wondered if that mode even had an off-button.

I doubted it.

I really, really doubted it.

And right now, as I was standing in front of him with Antonio's hand tightly clasped around mine, I was only doubting it more and more.

**xXx**

Well.

I was ready.

But I think…

…well, I think Feliciano _wasn't_ ready yet. For a confrontation with our older brother, I mean.

Because as I stood there, face to face with Vatican City, I could notice Feliciano, sneaking off to the back of the room, pulling Germany with him – and he involuntarily also encouraged Prussia and France to follow him by doing that, apparently, because _there_ they went, creeping after my younger brother like the creeps they were, _shoop_, _shoop_.

…

So… yes, Feliciano was… _clearly_ avoiding all possible eye contact with our older brother, or Hungary, or me, or _anybody_ who happened to be standing in his way, as much as he could as he took off. The only glimpse of his face I happened to catch was a weird, firmly-closed-lips one – and that was one of my younger brother's few, more uncommon facial expressions, the ones expressing panic, anxiety or stress.

And even though I knew Feliciano had suffered from his share of stress and difficult times just as much, if not _more_ as I had, I also knew he had never been, or at least _acted_, as stressful and panicky and anxious as me. _Ever_.

It… just wasn't like _him_, you know? It just wasn't _Feliciano_.

…

And maybe… well, maybe _that_ was the very reason why I, and not Feliciano, actually _was _capable to face the confrontation called Vatican City. Why I, and not Feliciano _was_ capable to deal with bad news/bad company.

Those anxious feelings and problematic situations were nothing new or weird to _me_, after all. I knew them. I knew them very well, even.

I never denied them, either.

…

Well, what about that – so I _was _better at something in comparison with my younger brother.

…

Should keep that in mind for later. Always nice to announce to Antonio something new I had discovered about myself. Even when it was something depressing. He could still make something positive out of it. He could, I was sure he could, that's one of the many reasons why Antonio was _Antonio_ and why I loved him so much.

…

Oh well, never mind _that_ for now…

I took a few deep and painful breaths, put on one of the calmest faces I could muster (not really _that _calm and stressfree, Antonio would have probably kissed the fucking _shit_ out of me if we had been in any other situation, _any _other) and then… I forced myself to raise my head just a little bit more and look him, Vatican City, in the eyes, and—

'Do **not** think that my being here means that I, or the Lord, approve of your sinful sham-weddings, South Italy.'

…

I…

I exhaled just as deeply and painfully as I had inhaled.

Two very light, white orbs were staring at me.

Silently.

And emotionlessly, just like the Netherlands and some of those other weird blunt bastards tended to do, but… this was a different kind of emotionless emotionlessness.

A _harder_ one.

'I…'

I tried to keep my voice under control as I spoke up.

'…I never thought of asking you or the Lord for your approval.'

He nodded a bit.

'I am very well aware of that.'

'Well, that's… good, I guess…'

Vatican City's eyes shone warningly.

'It is _not_.'

Oh. Wrong answer, Lovino.

I looked down again.

'…well, that's too bad, then.'

'You _should_ have asked me and the Lord for our approval, South Italy.' my elderly brother said in his typical low, monotonous voice.

I surprised myself and everyone around me by snorting ironically and looking up again.

'…what, you mean you and the Lord would have _approved_ of my wedding if I had asked you first?'

He narrowed his eyes.

'No. Certainly _not_. Absolutely _not_. We could never approve of such a disgusting, despicable, _unholy_ connection between two males. That is not possible. You should know that. You are supposed to be Catholic as well. The Lord has not shaped men to behave like that with one another. I will _never_ approve of something like that, and neither will the Lord.'

…

Okay…

…I could have opened my yap, as I would usually do when being sneered at, but… well, engaging in a heated discussion with Vatican City about what's good and what's wrong to do in life was like trying to stop an incoming train or running off the stairs with a large, broad, German stair-running enthusiast:

_Stupid_, _useless_, _pointless_, and not exactly one of the _healthiest_ things you could do in your spare time.

Or… _whenever,_ really.

…

So anyway, there I was, standing in front of Vatican City with no words but just some teeth and my tongue-tied tongue in my mouth.

…and I just…

…kept on staring at him, with Antonio and my faithful frown to keep me company, wondering if I should wait for him to continue the verbal punishment or if I should just walk away from him really really fast, when suddenly…

'Hey, what are you doing here, really?'

Wha—!

I abruptly spread my eyes wide open and jolted my head to the side, gaping at Antonio, yes, _Antonio_, who looked up at my older brother in curiosity.

Luckily, Vatican City seemed to be just as surprised and clueless as I was and stared expressionlessly back at him, folding his hands together.

'…where you talking to _me_, sir? What did you say? _Do_ speak up.'

Antonio smiled at him – carefully.

'Ah, I think you heard my question, though. I was rather loud.'

My brother didn't move or say anything.

'No? You didn't hear it? Oh! Must be the old age kicking in, huh? Sorry for that.' Antonio said.

…

O-oh my god, what was he doing, _what was he doing was he doing was he doing_?

Antonio ignored my freaked-out glances that I instantly fired at him (fucking evil _bastard_) and grinned some more.

'Okay, well, if you really didn't hear me, I'll repeat my question for you, Vatican City! How's that!~'

My mouth fell open even _more_. It was actually beginning to dig a hole in the carpet now.

Was… was that a _squiggly_?

Did Antonio just use a faggish little _squiggly _while talking so disrespectful to Vatican City?

…

I didn't know to either laugh or cry, really. I didn't.

'I was just wondering out loud what you're _doing_ here, Vatican City!' Antonio meanwhile continued, now suddenly impervious to my mean hand-pinching-and-twisting as well, '…I mean, surely you must have a good reason to show up here, despite Lovi and me and Feli and Germany being such evil sinners and all…'

Vatican City blinked and wanted to say something.

Sadly, my suicidal fiancé wasn't finished yet.

'It just… come on, the must be a reason why you're here! Why _else_ would you come to our wedding rehearsal? Just to lecture your brothers and make them feel bad? Naaah… Unless you would have a good reason for it, you'd probably not even look them in the eyes, right? I even told Lovino so just now – if he hates homosexuals so much, it's a bit strange he even got the guts to come to my House in the first place!'

…

I had thought Vatican City would… I don't know, glare so hard at Antonio that the poor Spanish idiot would abruptly catch on _fire _and _explode _in a colorful confettior something, but…

…I think he still looked mostly _confused _and even a bit _flustered _than anything else, to be honest.

…

…h-huh?

'Forgive me, but – who _are_ you exactly, sir?' Vatican City then slowly asked Antonio, wrinkling his already very wrinkled forehead some more.

'Who, me? Ah… that depends on who's asking, really!~ To my friends and close acquaintances, I'm known as Antonio, or _Antonie_, or _Anton_, or _Antoine_ Fernandez Carriedo, while most other nations and really important human beings know me as the personification that's resembling the Kingdom of Spain… but to your Southern Italian brother…'

Antonio let out a bashful chuckle and cast a quick, reassuring look at me.

'…well… let me put it this way… your brother can call me anything he wants to call me. _Anything_.'

I pursed my lips together firmly, my body shaking a bit.

Sweet stupid senseless dumb damned _idiot_.

…I-I fucking loved him so _much_…

Vatican City stayed quiet for quite some time after Antonio's revelation and studied the both of us, his facial expression impossible to read.

'I see…' he muttered at last, fiddling with his beard. '…so _you_ are the one responsible for convincing South Italy to do such… such unspeakable things with you.'

I gasped.

Wh-what, was he putting the blame on Antonio now?

'N-no!' I protested immediately, '…leave him out of it, he's _not_—'

'I take full responsibility.' Antonio nodded calmly, cutting me off.

'_What_?' I hissed, upset – but was silenced by just a quick, stern glance from Antonio.

Meanwhile, the old, white-haired male in his religious gown frowned deeply at Antonio.

'You are responsible for doing such deeds? That is odd. You are _Spain_. You are supposed to be Catholic _as well_, are you not?'

'I'm sure I'm supposed to be that at some level, yes. But there are more religious opinions and not-so-religious opinions in my nation, really.' Antonio said, shrugging.

'Does this answer means that you admit you have committed… _sinful_ crimes with South Italy, Spain?'

'I admit that I've committed many crimes in my life, yes, but… what I do with Lovino hasn't got anything to do with crime or sin whatsoever.'

Vatican City shook his head.

'The Church and I do not agree with you on that.'

'That's fine by me.' Antonio said.

'And the Devil will take you _both_ for that.'

'Really? I think it would have been better if he had come get me _sooner_ if he really wants me that badly, though. _Believe_ me, Vatican City, I _think_ I've done much _worse_ things than dating a man. I've got a lot more, _better_ reasons to get dragged to Hell.'

'I—'

'And… um, one more thing, would you _please_ stop talking about the Devil while Lovi's here and all? He gets kind of stressed-out whenever he hears of that guy – it's pretty tiresome, and he needs to have his rest before the ceremony starts, so… easy on the demons and devils, okay? Thanks!~'

…

…

The mood and atmosphere became silent and pretty… _tense_ in the room, right after Antonio's last spoken words.

It was deafening _silent_.

Skin-crawlingly _tense_.

_Frozen_, even.

Like time stood still for a – very long – moment.

…

Feliciano, Germany, France and Prussia were still quietly checking the back of the room.

Japan still stood out by not being in the room and/or House.

Hungary was still standing a few meters away from the three of us, a very calm and relaxed smile on her face.

The Netherlands and Belgium were still somewhere behind us.

And I…

…well, I was in the room, too.

…

It… it seemed to take hours, no, _ages_ before Vatican City, who probably had so many hateful emotions going on inside of him now that the thought alone was enough to make me dive under the nearest bed in fear, cleared his throat, _hard _and _rough_.

'Hum. Well.'

My brother finally spoke up, his voice vibrating and echoing weirdly through the big room.

'…let me once again be very clear about this: I absolutely, unconditionally, detest _everything_ that is not as the Church and the Lord and my wise Master wishes it to be. I despise sick acts of sodomy. I do not wish to think, speak or even discuss about this matter, as I am sure you are all seduced by the Devil and his foul ways and therefore, not longer able to see the sin that is homosexuality. You cannot help it, I know that. But that **does not** mean that I will approve of it, of **any** of it. Because I will never approve of it.'

His pale blue eyes rested on me again, stinging my own brown-greenish ones.

'**Never**, South Italy.'

Estranged older brother or not, I still cringed a little bit. No matter how long I hadn't seen or heard him, his words hurt and hit me like an iron hammer, just like they always had done.

'H-however…'

Vatican City's voice got weirder and more unstable by the second – even Feliciano and the rest in the back of the room looked up in surprise when hearing him talk.

'…although I am standing one hundredth percent behind my Church, Master and Lord's will and rules, I still have come here without the permission of any of those.'

'You sure did.' Antonio smiled. 'Probably because you had a good _reason_, right?'

Vatican City glared at him.

'You annoy me greatly, Spain.'

'But I'm right, right?'

My older brother ignored him and focused his eyes on me.

'South Italy.'

'Yes?' I answered automatically, because that's what you dowhen hearing somebody saying your "name" – you respond.

'If… if you and North Italy had decided to marry two good, chaste women, I would have been honored to offer you my blessings. I would also have offered you my services as a priest to marry you before the waking eye of the Almighty Lord. I would have been more than delighted to do all that for the both of you, since you are, and always will be… family.'

I nodded a bit. I didn't dare to say anything.

'But alas…'

My older brother sighed deeply and rubbed his temples, showing me more humanity and emotions than I had _ever_ seen on his face before.

'…North Italy decided to bind himself to a German man and you decided to bind yourself to a very _arrogant_ male Spaniard instead. And therefore, I will **not** offer you my blessings and I will **not** offer you my services as a priest to marry you. That is against my code. It is impossible. Against my way of life. Against every single fiber inside of my body. Against my will and want. That is why I really cannot do any of that. I… I simply **cannot**. I hope you understand that.'

'I understand that.' I softly said – and I really _did_ understand, especially since I was finally, _finally_, beginning to see some… some…

…s-some big brother Desiderius, alright…

Even if it was just a glimpse.

I had seen him. I had definitely seen him.

And he was still _here_.

'Now. Since I was unable to offer you and North Italy my services as a priest because of reasons you are very well aware of…' Vatican City continued, '…I still wanted to be sure that your sham-weddings would be attended by a qualified person. Somebody who had the most experience with these kinds of weddings. Somebody who has proven to be extremely tolerant about these disgusting matters. Somebody whose incorrect point of view is completely different from mine.'

He took a breath before carrying on.

'…that is why… I contacted with Hungary in all secrecy. I am most _ashamed_ I did, even without informing my Master or the Lord first, but that does not change the fact that I… did it anyway.'

I instantly looked at the brunette female (wasn't she getting fucking bored out of her _mind_, standing there like that with nothing to do?) in disbelieve.

'Is… is that true, Hungary? Did he…'

'Yes, he wrote me a letter a few days ago. A last-minute letter, really, since he heard of your wedding of somebody else, less than a week ago.' Hungary confirmed.

Ah – I suddenly understood why she had been so calm and controlled the entire time…

'He wrote you a letter? What did that letter say?' Antonio asked.

Hungary hesitated and looked at Vatican City questioningly, but he… well, just looked away in shame. He _did_ nod, though, as if he gave Hungary permission for something… and I believe he really did gave her that.

'…okay… so in that letter, Mr. Vatican City asked me to look for the best suitable, the best _possible_, wedding official there was. And… well, I did. I firstly wanted to pick a regular priest, really, so arranging a new wedding official was quite some work, but I still managed to get the best!~'

She proudly puffed her chest a bit and beamed a victorious smile at me.

But when I stayed quiet and narrowed my eyes at here, her smile became more annoyed.

'It's okay, Romano, you don't _have_ to say right now how grateful you are that I arranged the best wedding official of the best wedding official for you – you can always send me a present representing your eternal thanks later this week! Okay?~'

I couldn't fucking believe my ears.

'The bestof the best? You call somebody like the _Netherlands_… the _best_ of the _best_?'

'Yup!~' Hungary smiled.

I still couldn't believe it. I just didn't _want_ to believe it.

'Are you _shitting _me? _Seriously_? The _Netherlands _was the _best_ pick? _Really_?'

'That's right, dear!~'

'_Bullshit_! He doesn't even know yet what he has to _say _tomorrow! He still has to read a damn _book_ about it – and a _bad _one, too! He hates Antonio! He smokes! He's mean! His weird hair defies all logic! He has a _scarf_! Come on, somebody like him _can't_ be qualified to wed us!'

'And yet he is!~' Hungary patiently said.

I groaned, but gave up, more or less.

'Explain why, Hungary. _Please_ explain why, because I really don't get it…'

'Why? Because… well, Netherlands was the first to accept homosexuality and gay marriage as something completely normal, and… um, he's one of the most tolerant countries in Europe, and… u-um…'

Hungary chuckled uncomfortably.

'…all the other very tolerant EU-nations were really busy, you see.'

…

I FUCKING KNEW IT.

Behind me, the Netherlands huffed, insulted.

'Hey. _I_ was really busy as well. I just stopped being really busy.'

…

Logic. Yup.

I spun my head around to stare at the blond tree.

'Why did you agree to do this! You don't even _like_ us, so why would you want to _marry _us!'

His greenish eyes frowned doubtfully.

'That's not true. I like _you_. And Germany – whenever he's not stealing bikes or initiating wars and/or winning football-games. And I like your weird brother as well.'

'Feliciano? You _do_?'

'Not really. I was actually talking about that other weird brother of yours.'

The Dutchman nodded his head to the other side of the room – and that was stupid, Vatican City had stood in front of me just now, he couldn't all of a sudden have walked back to the entrance of the Random Room – but…

…well, when I looked in the same direction the Netherlands was nodding, I could indeed spot my older brother, slowly but surely walking away.

…

…

_Good_, I gues—

'Ohh, is he leaving already?' Belgium immediately said as soon as she had noticed him as well, not able to hide the disappointed tone of her voice.

I grunted at her and then stubbornly turned my back to both my retreating brother and her.

'What, so you'd have liked him to stay around for a bit longer and freak me and Feliciano out some more by his sheer _presence_ here?'

She had to laugh at my argument.

'Ahh, I admit that I haven't _ever_ seen a nation as scary, intimidating, bone-chilling and determined since last week, when I had to chase Russia off my roof – he's constantly trying to offer me some of his sunflowers, that _creep_ – but… are you _really_ telling me that his clumsy way of social interaction—'

'_Clumsy_? Are you seriously calling it _clumsy_, Belgium?'

She pretended she hadn't heard me and carried on.

'…that _that_'s the only reason why you don't want him around, Roma? That's not right, you know… you should know better. And you probably _do _know better. Aren't I right?~'

…

…

And that was the _last_ _**straw**_.

'Look, I don't fucking _**care, DAMMIT**_!' I suddenly and _angrily_ snapped at the blonde Belgian woman, '…so he feels the need to be involved with my and Feliciano's wedding! Big _deal_! He _still_ doesn't accept us and he _still_ talks shit about the way we're living our life, no matter how happy we are because of that same way of living! If it was up to him, he'd wed me to a woman right on the _spot _if he had to! Without thinking it over!'

Belgium's bright, green eyes gave me a weary, startled look.

'B-but Romano—'

'You know nothing about him, okay? _Nothing_! Just because you have seen a nicer side of him doesn't mean he's maybe very kind and brotherly deep inside! That he's maybe just trying to be helpful! That he's just being bothered by his own believes and rules! Th-that he actually _is _able to see things from another point of view than just his own religious views… when… when he unknowingly _wants _to see them, despite everything…'

I swallowed, feeling confused, and pursed my lips together for the second time that hour.

'…his being here and attempting to arrange something good for me and Feliciano… i-it means nothing to me, nothing at _all_, dammit…'

Belgium kept quiet, biting her lip.

Behind her, over her shoulder, I saw Vatican City was looking at me – but he immediately turned around and walked out of the entrance as soon as our eyes dared to meet, not looking back at me even _once_ when he closed the door with a soft click.

'Yeah, that's right, you _better _keep walking, damn… d-damn _jerk_…' I muttered shakily.

There was a gentle squeeze in my hand coming aside of me. I looked up, and Antonio looked right back at me with this typical, concerned expression on his face… but he didn't say anything, he just held my hand and pulled me a few centimeters closer to him.

'Lovi?'

'_What_.'

'Come here for a minute… come here, sweetie, don't glare at me like that…'

He smiled and carefully wiped some unexplainable tears from my face with the back of his free, cool hand.

'O-oh.' I sniffled, staring at him with foggy, frowning eyes. '…t-thank you.'

'You're welcome, my love. I gladly wipe away your tears, you know that…'

'No – _thank you_.' I quickly licked my dry lips, holding his surprised gaze, '…_really_ thank you. F-for defending me. Thank you for that, A-Antonio.'

Antonio silently watched me blushing and turning away my face from him very awkwardly, only to calmly press a somewhat misplaced kiss in the crook of my neck. Followed by another one. And another one.

'…and thank _you _for still caring enough about him to cry for him, Lovi…' he whispered to me when his lips brushed over my ear, '…that alone proves you're more of a brother than I have _ever _been to my siblings.'

My lips now started to quiver uncontrollably and I sobbed harshly, pushing my face into his chest and helplessly clasping my fingers into his shirt.

'S-stop reading me… s-stop fucking _reading_ me and making me feel better about my stupid actions, d-d-dammit…'

'I won't.'

He hugged me tightly.

I growled, halfheartedly struggling against his hug before giving up.

'A-asshole… f-fucking asshole…'

'And I like being with you a lot, too, sweetie. But let's continue the rehearsal for now.'

He pushed me away a bit – what, oh, so now I really _wanted_ to be held,he let go of me, that sly, scheming fucker – and gave me a hopeful look.

'Okay? Everybody's waiting for us, after all!~'

I stared at him.

Then I stared at the Netherlands and Belgium, walking to the others.

And _then_ I stared at "the rest", which were Hungary, Prussia, France, Feliciano and Germany.

…

And I nodded slowly.

Yeah.

Yeah, why not.


	69. Mumbler

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Another extra early update! Since I'd like to sleep in tomorrow morning! Yaaaay!_

_A/n2: Hey, remember that manuscript of me, that I send to the publishing company? I got a tiny card from that same company a week or so ago, saying (translated from Dutch)…_

_"Hello, dear writer,  
__We have received your manuscript today.  
__We are going to look at it as soon as possible.  
__You will hear from us when we have thought about publishing it or not._

_With kind regards,_

_Lemniscaat."_

_(Lemniscaat's the name of the publishing company.)_

_My mom instantly started clapping her hands and patting me on the back (not at the same time) and said:  
__'Ohhh, they're SO going to publish your book, dear!~ Look, they even sent you a "we-got-it"-card!~ I'm so **proud** of you!~'  
__I told her that the little card meant nothing yet – I mean, they've only **received** it! – but she didn't want to listen to me and ran to my father to smash the card in his face, and he also **immediately** was convinced everything would turn out just fine and told me I'd be a rich bitch in no time.  
__…  
__Oh, my parents. I love them very much, but would it seriously hurt them to be a little more… realistic every now and then…?_^^;;;

_A/n3: I talked to Mr. Jailbait/Dutch Antonio last week, the first time in… well… weeks.  
__And I had to say, talking to him was nice. He IS very nice, after all. He wouldn't have got the nickname Dutch Antonio of me if he **wasn't** very nice.  
__He asked how my winter break was, and how Christmas was, and stuff like that… and I very politely asked him the same thing, and all was very nice. Yes, nice. Nice indeed.  
__…  
__I wish he'd stop being so nice to me, though. _:(

_A/n4: Guess what song was playing when I wrote this very A/n?  
_The Summer of '69_.  
__…  
__I dunno, thought it was kind of funny to mention it.  
__Especially since 69 **is** such a funny number.  
__69.  
_LOL_.  
__69. 69. 69. 69.  
__…  
__You were thinking something naughty right now, didn't you?~  
__*runs away*_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXIX:

**_Humble Mumble  
_****_(Outcast ft. Erykah Badu)_**

It all happened so very fast.

At first, Antonio and I were just walking over to the other nations, who were waiting for us at the… weird, altar-y thing Hungary had managed to create out of a couple of orange boxes, a cardboard box and a black marking stick (because you could read the very neatly scribbled words "THIS IS THE ALTAR" on the box that was on top of the rest)…

…and the next thing we knew, we were being "positioned" by that same Hungary in the… well, positions we were supposed to be standing on the big day tomorrow.

…

Well, that's not _completely_ true.

Yeah, sure, Hungary was _trying_ very hard to position us, that is. But it didn't really go very… _smoothly_, because of… things.

…

Like…

…um, for starters, Feliciano was still a bit upset over Vatican City's blink-and-you-miss-it check-up on our(so far pretty damn _lame_) wedding rehearsal and needed to be comforted by Germany first, before he was ready to _anything _else.

Also, France, for some insane reason, thought it would be a very good idea to improve the awkward ambiance by throwing around some rose petals where we were standing, so that he could "prove that love and roses conquers all, even scary big brothers and unpleasant atmosphere and _honhonhonhon_, nice rack, _Femme_!", and then Belgium laughed delightedly and **_smacked_**_ him in the **face**_.

…

Furthermore, Prussia was acting like a fucking _child_ the entire time and seemed to be determined to refuse to do _anything_ that Hungary wanted of him, except for staying right here ('_HA_! I see what you did there! I won't fall for _that_ one, bitch!');

And now for the last but not the _least_ reason why things weren't going exactly as planned:

Everyone's favorite Hungarian brunette was experimenting on what to do with us.

…

…

…hm?

Oh no, I _am _fully aware of how dirty and perverted that sounds.

I'm just not going to change the sentence, just because of how it _sounds_, because it _is_ how it _is_, dammit, and that damn woman really _was _experimenting with her poor clients (let's face it – that's what the four of us _were _after all, her pathetic _clients_), oh yes, she was experimenting the ever-loving _crap _out of us, and if everything we were doing here right now turned out to be a secretly-shot scene of her very own handmade _bad_ gaylovin' movie involving crappy decorations, anxious future-husbands and lack of porn, I wasn't surprised.

…

No, wait, I _would _be surprised!

I mean, _Hungary_ and lack of _porn_?

That's like…

That's like Antonio and England enjoying a cup of tea (Earl Grey) in England's back garden, while Antonio played a cheerful tune on his guitar for England… and while England _himself_ wrote Antonio a lovely long poetry in which he said sorry to him and ohh, thank you _very_ much for liking my scones, _Anthony_, old chap!~

It was NEVER going to happen.

Not in a MILLION fucking YEARS.

…

And then, _suddenly_ (or right on cue), Hungary's high voice broke through my floating, absentminded thoughts.

'Okay, so I think I need all the grooms to stand on the _left_ side!~'

…

…

Me, Antonio, Feliciano and Germany all stopped with _whatever_ we were doing to stare at her.

'Um… _which_ ones, Hungary?' Antonio eventually asked her.

'What?' Hungary frowned at us and tilted her head. 'Don't look at me like it's too difficult to do, silly. It's easy: when standing next to each other, the _grooms_ need to stand on the _left_ side, and the _brides_ on the _right_. Like this: groom, bride, empty place in between couples, other groom, other bride. Now, piece of cake, right?~'

We all just looked very pissed at her.

…

Well okay, _I_ did.

Germany didn't seem to look pissed. He just looked very… Germany- ish, which was more of a combination between thoughtful, troubled and motionless than… actually _pissed_, really.

And Antonio, who probably _immediately_ saw me showing up in a big white wedding dress in his wild, sick imagination, even looked very _content_ (that perverted bastard, bet he still thought of me in that horrid pink dress whenever he jerked himself off).

And Feliciano… well, he seemed to finally _cheer_ _up_ a bit when hearing Hungary's explanation.

My _god_.

…

…I would never _ever_ get rid of the weird people in this lifetime, would I?

…

Well, I wasn't going to let all the weird shit happen to me, either! At least _not_ without putting up an (useless) _fight_ (that I wasn't going to win anyway)!

…

…what? Yeah, I know, I should have more confidence in my super hunky Italian strengths, yes yes, very nice, but _seriously_, have you _seen _me _fight_? It's fucking _sad_. Hell, a freaking _baby_ could take me out. No, really. I'm actually being _very_ realistic here.

…

But still…

…giving up without trying just didn't suit me.

'_No_, Hungary, it's not a piece of cake! Not at _all_!' I therefore heard myself speak up anyway, folding my arms,

'…I mean, _brides_, Hungary? _Really_? _Brides _on the _right_? Do you even _see_ any brides here?'

Hungary blinked her big, green eyes at me and smiled _excitedly_.

'I _do_, dear! Oh _boy_, I _do_…hahaha… yes…~'

Her nose instantly started leaking.

'Oh dear!'

…

Nope, not snot. Nooo. Should've _wished _it was snot.

No, it was blood. Gross-woman-blood.

…

And gross it was.

…

…okay, I admit it, that kind of was _my_ mistake, I should have known she and her nose would react like that.

Oh well, it's no use to cry over spilled milk now.

Or spilled blood.

…

I'm so fucking funny.

Anyway, as I was… doing my best to think of something cynical and witty and very Lovino/Romano to say in response to her and her nosebleed, I noticed that the (_traitorous_) fuckers named Germany and Feliciano obediently and bashfully positioned themselves the way Hungary had wanted them to be in the most (and shut up, there's no suggestive subtext here, I see no fucking subtext-crap at all, dammit, so piss off, or wait maybe I see it a bit now _ewwww_)…

…and I also noticed Antonio was clumsily attempting to put the two of us in the right positions as well, as he was carefully and rather sneakily pulling me next to him.

To the right.

…

The _right_.

…

Nice to know I had options.

Oh, wait a minute – _no_ I hadn't!

'…and _what_ do you think _you're _doing?' I snapped at my fiancé, glaring at him after watching him fiddle around with my arm for a bit.

Antonio froze a bit – oh, so he _was _aware of how I would react! – and gave me a sheepish smile, fidgeting with the sleeve of my shirt.

'…um… positioning us, Lovi?~'

'Ohh, _positioning_ _us_, huh?'

'…yeah?'

I squeezed my eyes almost shut.

'You think I'm the _bride_, Antonio? Your _bitch_?'

He frowned and hesitated before answering me.

'No – my _bitch_, Lovi? – I don't think that at all, but… I'm just saying… um, you _are _a liiiiiiiitlle bit more… feminine than I am, sweetie…'

I _gasped _in total and utter _shock_.

'WHAT!'

'…j-just a teeny tiny tad, my love…'

'No I'm NOT!'

'…I mean, you're shorter than me, and more sensitive, and you love expressing all your emotions as soon as you feel them…' Antonio muttered, not really listening to me and quickly looking away when he saw my fiery glare of **ultimate death**, '…a-a-and… well, even though you _know_ you can be as dominating as you want with me, you _sure_ like to take the… u-um, _submissive_ role… whenever we're…'

'DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY IT.'

'A-alright, alright, ahahaha…'

'…huh.' I then heard the Netherlands mutter – and I noticed he looked surprisingly thoughtful and confused after witnessing our little bickering, because of _course_ the rest of the nations were having lots and lots of fun observing us and enjoying themselves _greatly_ while doing so.

…

…and I don't fucking _care _if I kind of said the same thing twice in a row, dammit, I still used other _words_ and since I'm so very good at languages, that's like a whole new demention.

_Dimension_. Sorry. Dimension, not demention.

Probably not even a word.

…

It _should _be a word, though.

…

See? Man, I'm so creative and awesome with words, it's making people cry all over the world.

But I'm digressing.

Moving on…

While the Netherlands was being confused and dazed and all, France stopped molesting him for a moment (fucking fuckfaced French pervert), pulled his hand out of his pants and smiled at the Dutchman.

He just continued molesting Prussia, by the way.

'Ah…' Antonio's best friend said to the tall man, '…is there something wrong, _Pays-Bas_?'

Netherlands looked at him.

'Maybe.'

'Can I help, my wealthy, brute European comrade?~'

'Maybe.'

'Hey! I feel strange!' Prussia suddenly exclaimed, frowning.

'Ssssh, that's just your awesomeness, Gilbert.' France reassured him. 'It tickles sometimes. Just ignore it.'

'It does feel kind of **awesome**, yes! How could I ever ignore something feeling that **awesome**!' Prussia grinned.

For a second, the fuckface looked genuinely flattered.

'W-well, who am _I_ to forbid you things!~ Have _great_ time experiencing my… _handy_ awesomeness, Gilbert!~'

'Don't mind if I do – _ouch!_'

'…and have _great_ time explaining that _bruise_ on your ass to my sweet little Canadian angellater as well, you savage, _Matthieu_-humping _beast_!'

'Aww, come _on_, you're still bitter about me dating your "brother"? And what the hell is your hand doing down my pa—'

'_Non non_, I can't answer your _face_. But maybe my fingernails could give your _other_ butt-cheek the answer you're looking for.'

'_Ouch_! Cut it out!'

'Oh? I wasn't planning to go _that _far, but alright then – stand still, _mon ami_.'

Prussia turned pale and looked like he was going to either cry or scream, but luckily, the Netherlands unknowingly came to his unlikely rescue by tapping/bashing France on the shoulder.

…

…and yes, observing _others_ instead of being observed by other _was_ a pretty relaxing thing to do for me every once in a while. Hell, I even forgot about Antonio's uncalled move for a minute to just stand there with him, nice and easy and totally out of the picture.

'Hey.'

The Dutchman nodded at France when said nation looked behind him.

'You know _stuff_, right?'

France gave him a restrained smile, rubbing his painfully smacked shoulder tenderly.

'Ah… I would appreciate it if you _didn't_ talk to me like I'm your personal drugsdealer, _Pays-Bas_.'

'As if _you_ have anything good to offer me.'

France blinked.

'…I feel insulted. Now _why_ do I feel insulted?'

'I wanted to ask something about what the Spanish bastard just said.'

'…what did he say then?'

'Something about Romano being submissive.'

…

Ah, I was already beginning to wonder when people would attack my comfort-zone again. I almost felt left out. What a wonderful feeling that had to be – in situations like _this_, that is.

'Ahh…~' France closed his eyes and smiled.

'What did that Spaniard mean with submissive?' Netherlands asked him.

'_Nothing_!' I immediately shrieked – but was ignored by all and you shouldn't be surprised about this, because neither was I, really.

France chuckled. 'What, you don't _know _what it means?~'

Netherlands huffed.

'I'm just not _sure_. And I _should_ be sure. I'm marrying those fags tomorrow, after all. Should expand my horizons by adding some new dirty words to my vocabulary.'

'No! DON'T! Don't expend your horizons, dammit!' I yelled again, flailing my arms, '…it's way too messed up already anyway! Don't make it _worse_!'

'_Antoine_ means his Romano likes it up the butt.' France calmly explained to the Dutch creep.

My eyes grew thrice their size and my face turned redder than the blood-stained carpet down Hungary's feet, but I didn't panic, I just internally _hollered_.

_GOD NO WHYYYY_.

'Up the butt? His own or Spain's butt?' Netherlands frowned.

The blond fuckface clacked his tongue.

'Mmmm, a bit up _Antoine's_, probably? Romano _does_ want to top him and all, so you're partly right. Ah, but he personally still _prefers_ it up his _own_ butt, that little toyboy.~'

'Spain's butt is better.'

'_Do_ you now, _Pays-Bas_?~' France's fuckface looked surprised. '…that's unexpected. I know my Spanish friend has got curves to die for, but I had never thought _you'd_ be into—'

'For _kicking_.'

The Dutchman's eyes flickered evilly.

'I prefer kicking Spain's butt _very_ **_hard_**.'

'…ah.' France said.

'Into **_submission_**.'

'…hm-hm.'

'I could give Romano some more tips about that.'

_GOD _no.

France's smile looked like it _hurt_ the Frenchman.

'I see. Okay. So you were talking about _that_ kind of… demanding submissiveness. By violence and brute force and the like. Not by sex.'

'Hm? No, I _was_ talking about sex.'

…

JESUS.

'…would you excuse me, _Pays-Bas_? I think I'm going to walk over to the back of the room and check if I'm not somewhere else. Okay?~'

France smiled politely at him – and then he quickly shuffled away from Netherlands, after which that same Netherlands turned to his sister with a seemingly "well-I-think-that-went-very-well" –expression on his face, but I could be wrong because his face was fucking hard to read: even _I_ most of the time only saw one expression on his mug, and that was an annoyed one.

…

Maybe he should consider wearing shirts with helpful, supportive texts on them.

Like…"Don't bother talking with me – I have the social skills of a bus stop!", or "No, you're wrong – I'm actually _enjoying_ myself now!" or just a simple _smiley_.

…

…um…

…or not.

Yeah, _not_ was better.

**xXx**

Anyway…

While France, the Netherlands, Prussia and I were nagging to each other on the back of the room about Canada, sex, dominance, hate-sex, drugs, asses, text-shirts and, well, guess what, even a bit about the ceremony tomorrow (maybe Prussia just randomly yelled "wedding ceremony!" once before he continued whining about his butt and spectacled boyfriend I had never seen before), life just carried on in the rest of the room.

So I was kind of _extremely_ _GLAD_ when Antonio came to get me and drag me back.

Yup. Back to the life, to Germany and to the women – spot the mean joke I made here, come on, I dare you – and also back to Hungary's sucky "THIS IS AN ALTAR"-altar that nobody bought, before the eager Spaniard placed his hands on both my shoulders as soon as I was begrudgingly looking up at him again.

'Oof! Glad I managed to pull you away from _that _mess, Lovi!~' he said with a smile.

It was a very nice smile, but not nice enough to make the frown on my face fade away.

'And what business do _you _have with me, Mr.… _Lefty_?'

'Mr. Lefty?' Antonio's smile slowly disappeared.

My frown now got some nice deep, **dark** _cliffs_ in addition to the regular facial folds and wrinkles, but I didn't say anything – way more impressive that way.

But Antonio didn't let himself get intimidated _that _easily and he sighed, also frowning.

'You're still mad at me for pulling you to the right, sweetie?'

'Not _mad_,' I strategically said, loosening on the scowl when I noticed the glare wasn't going to work, '…just _disappointed_.'

OH!

And _everybody _with parents or a lover _knew_ that was even **_worse_**_! _

Trust me on this one – it's better to have a mad loved one than a disappointed loved one.

Seriously. The latter _eats _on you like you wouldn't believe.

…

Too bad it didn't really work on Antonio, since he knew me a bit longer than just today.

No, he just magically let a small smile appear on his face again.

'Look, Lovino, it _really _doesn't matter to me on which side you stand or on which side I stand. If you're really that bothered by it, say it and we'll switch sides right away. You're still, just like me, the very _manly_ groom. You know that, I know that… practically everyone knows that, Lovi.'

'What about Hungar—'

'_Practically_ everyone _knows_ _that_, Lovi.'

'Fine, fine…' I rolled my eyes.

'And besides, apart from the reasons I already told you before…'

Antonio blushed and nodded his head at Feliciano and Germany (who were acting way too cute for my _dental_ health), allowing me to watch them for a couple of seconds before gently turning my face back towards him again.

'…it would look kind of… weird and uneven in heights if you'd stand on the left side, while your brother's standing on the left side.'

I stared at him… and I had to nod, somewhat impressed by his theory.

'Holy shit, you're right – it _would_ look weird! I mean, it's only normal if the taller grooms nations would stand on the same side. It just looks a bit more _structured _thatway!'

'Right?~' Antonio said – and I could hear the barely hidden tone of relief in his voice, but decided to let it slip this time.

He had a point, after all.

And with this new reason he had come up with,_ I_ had an acceptable excuse for giving in this willingly.

And submissively.

…

…

Oh, _whatever_. _What_ the fuck _ever_.

For him, I could be submissive.

Just as submissive as I knew he would be for me.

…

N-no, it's got nothing to do with logic at all.

Only love.

**xXx**

'_Okay_! If the four of you are ready – at _last_ – then let me see if you are all standing correctly, dears!~ Then we can get this rehearsal started! _Finally_!'

Hungary (who had been standing on the background, silently scribbling down notes in her little red notebook this entire time) quickly click-clacked on her heels past both Feliciano and Germany and me and Antonio, checking the way we were standing.

She didn't have a lot to say to my brother and his German potato lover – the two of them seemed to be standing in the exact right way, facing each other and smiling to each other and holding each hands and being showered in the warm light of the morning sun like they were two fucking magical beings who could blow the whole world away by their collective love any fucking second now.

…

…a-and no, I didn't feel a bit emotional when I noticed the indescribable _blissful_ look on my brother's face at _all_, d-dammit…

'Ah…' I heard Antonio behind me say softly, as Hungary was praising Feliciano and Germany for looking so teeth-rottenly _sugary_ together, '…that Feli. He looks so… so _happy_…'

'H-he does, yes…' I agreed.

'It makes you wonder, right…'

'Makes you wonder _what_?'

'If we look just as happy as he is.'

A-at that, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks in just a mere _split-second_ and I smiled a bit, slowly turning myself back to look at him.

It always made my chest _tighten_ in the best ways whenever I saw Antonio staring at me with that loving, admiring, _content_ look on his face, and this time was no exception: my heart instantly shuddered from sheer happiness when the Spaniard smiled one of his rarer, "for-_your_-eyes-only" smiles at me, as soon as we stood face to face again.

'W-well.'

I swallowed and had to actively _fight_ my smile to prevent it from getting bigger when Antonio took my hands in his again.

'…well, if you'd ask _me_, I'd say we look happier.'

Antonio's eyes lighted up even more.

'You really think so, Lovi?'

'Don't _you_ think so?'

He laughed – and shook his head.

'No. When hearing you talk like this, Lovino, I just _know _we look happier.'

'I-I know, r-right?' I shyly said, effectively charmed and touched by his comment, and finally allowed my grin to grow (j-just a little bit! The tiniest little bit of all tiny little bits!).

Antonio blushed and nodded, squeezing my hands gently.

'Y-you're _beautiful_, Lovino…'

I chuckled and squeezed back.

'Why _thank _you. You're pretty pretty as well.'

He grinned. 'I can't be as beautiful as you, though…'

'That's right. You are _more _beautiful.'

After hearing _that _corny but _slick_ counterattack of me, Antonio got even more flustered than he already was and his cheeks flushed bright red.

'N-no, _you_ are, Lovi!~'

Of course, the redness of my face couldn't just let Antonio's facial hue win the Blushing Contest that was currently going on and so, I automatically colored some more as I laughed some more and shook my head.

'N-no, _you _are, Antonio…'

'Oh no no, _you_ are, my love…'

'No _you_!'

'_You_!'

Even though I got more flattered and giggly by every passing word (a-and _hated_ it intensely, naturally), I groaned. Time to end this admittedly fun, but useless discussion.

'A-alright – now _who's_ the smartest of the two of us?' I demanded in-between two smiles and chuckles.

'You, definitely.' Antonio immediately said, like he had fucking _studied_ the (obviously _correct_) answer.

'Right: I'm the smartest.' I proudly said, '…so when _I'm_ saying _you're_ more handsome than whatever handsome person in this world, even than _me, _you just know it has to be truer than whoever _you _claim to be more handsome.'

Antonio was quiet for a minute, thinking it over.

Then he smiled – again.

'Alright, Lovi, I'm the prettiest and the most handsome and beautiful person in the world.'

'That's right.' I nodded. 'With your damn eyes and tanned skin and hunky chest and **_ass_**, dammit. No freaking wonder you're—'

'Ahh, I still think you're more beautiful, Lovi.'

Antonio interrupted me, just like that, and pulled me closer to him, never letting his gaze wander off.

I huffed. 'H-_hey_! I just said you can't—'

'Let me finish, sweetie…'

Antonio pulled me towards him some more and pressed a kiss on one of my (meanwhile _burning_)cheeks.

'…I think you're more beautiful. Maybe not from the outside, since I'm not allowed to say that, but… I can still say you're the prettiest and the most handsome and beautiful person in the world _from_ _the_ _inside_, my love…'

I stared at him, unable to say something right away.

'…t-that's not fair, dammit…' I eventually managed to stammer. '…t-that's even _better _than just being beautiful from the outside…'

'Yes, you **_are_**, Lovino.'

'O-oh _god_, shut up…'

I clasped his hands so tightly in sudden delight and surprise, I just knew it had to hurt him.

'…just s-shut up, y-you… you… _you_.'

Antonio chuckled again.

'Ah, if you really want me to stop talking, you know what you have to do…~'

I frowned at him, knowing what he was aiming for.

'No. I-I'm _not _going to kiss you in front of these crazy-assed nations, dammit, th-that's embarrassing…'

'Of _course_ you're going to kiss me right in front of everyone. You know you are. You only need a bit of help to get started, that's all…'

'…n-no, don't you fucking _dare_ to…'

I abruptly forgot the ability to talk when his face came very close to mine all of a sudden and even though I still tried to protest, I realized he was right – I was indeed going to kiss him, oh yes, I was, I was going to kiss him _so much_, I'd—

'…_a-**choo**_!'

Antonio and I immediately twisted our head into the directing the sneezing was coming from and there she was, Hungary, an extremely _perverted _look in her eyes as she wiped her mouth and licked her lips expectantly, in _that _very order.

However, when our eyes met hers, she made a long face and snapped her fingers like "aw _dang!_", especially when I hastily let go of Antonio and pushed him further back.

'Oh, I can't _believe _I had to sneeze right on that moment!' she whined, more to herself than to anybody else, '…they were _this _close to engage into feverish kissing! _God_!'

'NO we weren't!' I instinctively denied, patting my face to feel if it was just as red as I thought it was – _yes_ it was, of course it was, dammit.

'Hungary!' Antonio said, grinning a somewhat crooked smile, '…have you been standing there for long?~'

'Oh, not that _long_—'

'Starting from what sentence?~'

'…from "from the inside, my love".'

'Aha! Alright then.'

'No! _Not_ alright!' I sputtered, pointing at Hungary, '…you damn eavesdropping woman, y-you shouldn't listen in on wh-whatever kind of crap we're telling each other like you haven't got anything _better_ to do!'

Hungary now made an angry face and put her hands on her hips.

'Now _listen_ to me here, dear, I should tell you that after complimenting Veni and Germany for being so lovey-dovey, I instantly wanted to walk over to you and Spain. But when I saw you two were having a moment here, I actually _repressed _the feeling of sprinting over towards you guys and drooling all over the lovely image, and decided to position the other nations _first_!'

I blinked my eyes. 'Huh?'

'She's right, Lovi. Look…'

Antonio made a nod towards the fake altar, where the Netherlands was standing, still flipping pages, and then I also noticed Prussia, standing behind Feliciano and Germany, and France and Belgium, standing right behind Antonio – with rather amused and teasing grins on their faces.

My jaw dropped and I spun my head towards Hungary again.

'…a-are you saying that they _all_ listened in on us from the moment _you _started listening in?'

'Yes.' France answered in Hungary's place, '…and I must say it was very uninteresting to watch – aside from this weird expression your face suddenly got, Romano – until my good friend _Antoine _attempted to screw your collective lips together. _That's _when things got interesting.'

'And _that's_ when _you_ sneezed, you damn Hungarian _bitch_!' Prussia then yelled somewhere from Germany's side, '…and just when I had a nice view on them, too!'

'Well, I'm _thankful_ she sneezed.' Belgium spoke up, smiling at me reassuringly, '…at least this was _less_ embarrassing for you than when _Antonie _HAD been able to kiss you right in front of us. Right Roma?~'

I opened my mouth to answer her, but was cut off when Hungary clapped her hands.

'Okay, okay, enough of this, we've lost more than enough time with disappointing nonsense already! Let's get this rehearsal started – oh, and Spain, you and Romano should move a bit to the left, more into the sunlight.'

'Oh. Like this?'

Antonio and I shuffled a little bit to the left.

'Yes! Perfect! Now _don't_ move before I say so.'

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

'Why should we stand more into the sunlight, dammit – want to have a better view for your camera-crew?'

…

I had expected Hungary to laugh and handwave my comment away, but she stared at me with enormous, shocked eyes, _astonishment _oozing from her face.

'…w-what!' I frowned.

She kept on staring for a second, but then she sighed and made a beckoning gesture to the crappy altar.

'…come on out, dear, they've caught us…'

To my and everyone else's big surprise, the big fake "THIS IS AN ALTAR" –altar suddenly opened from the side… and _Japan _came rolling out of it, together with a pretty _big_ camera and an accompanying camera stand.

He looked very serious, mainly focusing his dark eyes on Hungary.

'Hungary-san. I've taped it all, except for that last comment Romano-san made. I hope that is alright with you?'

'That depends. Did you get all the mushy GerIta and Spamano-stuff, Mr. Kiku?' Hungary asked sternly.

'Yes. I even did a close-up on those.'

'Then it's _alright_ with me!~'

…

…

…so wait a minute – so I was _right _about Hungary making her own movie?

Now _that _surprised me!

Not the camera and/or Japan's inelegant entrance – hell, I told you before I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Hungary was secretly shooting a bad gaylovin' movie – but the fact I was actually _right _for once about something completely stupid I had thought over earlier- that was _incredible_!

But _yes_, it was true, it indeed turned out that Hungary had planned everything I had thought the brunette had planned, and Japan had been more than happy to help her out with her Hungarywood-plans, since he's not a fucking hair better than that Hungarian hag.

So while Antonio and the others _gasped_ in _bewilderment_ and started bombarding Hungary with questions like _how_, _why _and _when_, I just calmly observed the whole bunch and enjoyed feeling superior.

_Haaaaaah_.

It's good to be the calm one.

…

Calm_er_ one then.

**xXx**

Some not-meant excuses from Hungary and Japan's side and a quick positioning of the latter one later, the rehearsal, that already was a failure in each and every possible way, could finally continue.

Most of the participants still were a bit upset, though – even Antonio, who had this cranky facial expression that made him look unbearably… c-_cute_.

'Are you okay, Antonio?' I asked him when he sullenly took my hands in his again – and it felt both weird as satisfying to be the one _asking _this particular question instead of the one _answering_ it.

'Mmm.' Antonio frowned. '…I guess I'm okay. I just hope Hungary and Japan don't pull this stunt off tomorrow, because that'd be terrible.'

I looked at him questioning.

'You… don't want a video of our wedding, Antonio?'

His frown and mood eased, but just a _bit_.

'…of course I'd like a video of that, Lovi, but I'm not sure I'm when _Hungary's_ the director and _Japan_ the cameraman.'

I smiled.

'Don't worry – they'll only shoot nice scenes of the wedding anyway.'

'How can you be so sure about that?' he wanted to know. 'How do you know there won't be anything _smutty_ in it, not even when it's being directed by Miss Porn herself?'

'B-because, Antonio, I'm planning to save _every_ bit of smutty, perverted, bottled-up raw _lust_ I have inside of me for when we retreat to our bedroom. My greedy longings, feelings and desires… That's… t-that's just for _you _to witness. Nobody else. Just you.'

Antonio flushed a bit.

'O-oh.'

'…s-so till then, they won't notice a _thing _when looking at me during the ceremony.'

I swallowed and weakly swung our connected hands from side to side.

'…will they… will they notice a thing when looking at _you_, Antonio?'

He chuckled and shook his head.

'Only that I love you very much, sweetie.'

I chuckled as well.

'T-that's more than enough…'

'_I'd_ say.'

Antonio's grinned. I was glad he was smiling again, because that meant his mood had become better and that was—

'…and if _Romano_ and _Spain_ would _also _be so _nice_ to _quit_ _talking_ and _pay_ _attention_ to the rehearsal, that would be just _grand_.'

Antonio and I looked up.

Hungary and all the others stared at us with huffy, annoyed looks on their faces, Japan even glanced at his wristwatch to see what the time is, and, just like everybody knows it's worse to have disappointed loved ones than mad loved ones, everybody also knows that glancing at your wristwatch means that something's taking too long.

You're very welcome. I _indeed_ like explaining obvious things.

…

Anyway, everybody was waiting for us.

Oh.

'W-we're ready, we're ready!~' Antonio hastily said, '…get on with it, please!'

'Right…'

Hungary stared at my fiancé and me just a little bit longer, before she closed her eyes, slowly took a deep breath and then opened her orbs again, the brightness of their greenness accompanied with a big, excited smile (_damn_, she scares me so much when she flips through emotions like that).

'…as I was saying… it's very important the all participants of the weddings tomorrow do exactly what I'm telling you now. Now, I'm not really sure how things go during every other wedding – I'd like to _improvise_ a bit if you don't mind, that's more fitting for an intelligent girl like me and hahaha, why am I saying "if you don't mind", you really don't have a choice but doing whatever I say since you're all sexy helpless nitwits anyway – but before the _real _ceremony starts tomorrow, we start off with… bringing in all the guests.'

Germany raised his hand.

'_All_ of them, Hungary? At _once_?'

She snorted sarcastically. 'Well, I'm not planning to let entire _weeks _pass for this first happening of the day, no.'

'Don't you think things will get messed u—'

'Of course everybody will be structured in nice neat rows before they'll enter the church, Germany, don't you worry your beach blond head about that.'

'Ah. Good.'

'Next, when all the guests are seated and shutting up (or at least murmuring), the Netherlands will make his entrance and walk to the altar.' Hungary carried on. 'SLOWLY.'

'Slowly?' The Dutchman frowned. 'I don't like walking slowly.'

Hungary glared at him.

'You're going to walk **_slowly_** and you're going to **_love_** it. Am I **_clear_**?'

'Could I smoke some—'

'No.'

'Growl.'

'Just do what I'm _telling_ you to do, okay?' Hungary persisted, giving him a big, stately, black book, '…just walk to the altar, don't do _anything else _but _that_, and wait for the next nations to arrive. You can already study your yellow book with the right texts before that happens – just make sure nobody sees it. Hence the big black book. It's mine, but you can use it until the weddings are over. Got it?'

'Yup.' The Netherlands nodded and immediately stood just a little bit more upright, putting his pipe away.

'Right. So, after the Netherlands is standing in place, the best men of Spain and Germany come up, who are France and (_yuck_)Prussia and _no, _Romano, I see you want to complain again, but I'm standing my ground here and you'll have to **_deal _**with it. Okay?~'

I just made a grumbling sound, but nodded a bit. Yeah, I could make a big fuss about it again, but once Hungary was up to something, it was better to either run away or just live with it. And protesting didn't help, we all saw earlier how pointless _that_ was.

…

…oh well, not _completely_ pointless, at least she didn't call me and Feliciano "brides" anymore. That's _something_.

'Then, Spain and Germany walk up the aisle. It would be nice if you could both come up on the same time and walk towards the altar at the same pace. So Spain – you better practice your speed-walking a bit, dear.' Hungary continued.

Antonio's face fell. 'I'm going to be beat before the ceremony even starts, aren't I?'

'Ignoring you.' Hungary said, looking away from him. 'Okay, when Spain and Germany are standing in place as well – for the record, just like you're standing right now – Mr. Kiku and Fem-Fem walk to the altar. Fem-Fem, if you want to, you can throw some flower petals around. I was originally planning for Liechtenstein and Monaco to do that, but I couldn't find them _or _my dresses anywhere anymore shortly after telling them my plans, so…'

'They bolted.' I concluded. 'Good for them.'

'Shut up, dear.' Hungary smiled warningly. '…so, Fem-Fem, are you up for it? To be both the best (wo)man and the… _flowergirl_?~'

'Um…'

Belgium looked at me.

I shook my head like I had _never fucking_ _shaken_ my head before.

'…I have a… gut-feeling it's better if I say no to that, Lizzie. So – sorry.'

'Oh? That's too bad.' Hungary sighed sadly. '…but I guess I should respect the wishes of the wedding participants…'

'Damn _straight _you should, you crazy _dame_!' I nodded.

'Well, as soon as Mr. Kiku and Fem-Fem are standing on their respectively places as well, it's time for the last two "grooms" to show up: Roma and Veni.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'What's with the quotation marks?'

'Oh, don't worry about that: they've been wrongly used this entire time already anyway.'

'…_what_?'

'Besides, you're not supposed to see them, dear.'

'Then _don't_ _bend_ your fucking fingers like that when saying _grooms_, dammit!'

'Oh, I did that?' Hungary giggled. 'Well, how about _that_! Art imitates life indeed!~'

I _shuddered_. 'You scare me.'

'Well _good_.'

'…again… _what_?'

'Veee, hey hey, Hungary?' Feliciano _thankfully _ended our strange dialogue, beaming a dazzling smile at the brunette, '…are Lovi and I supposed to walk up the aisle together as well, Hungary?~'

She _instantly_ gave him a sweet and motherly smile back.

'Of course, Veni!~ You and your loud brother can be very symbolic and cute and heartwarming together like that!~'

'All right! Yay!' Feliciano cheered, waving at me.

'You heard that, Lovi? Veee… we can walk up the aisle _together_!~'

'Whoopee.' I said, swirling a finger in the air.

'Ah, come on, Lovi, you know that's a lot of fun!' Antonio commented, '…that way, you can give away Feli and Feli can give _you _away!~'

'Symbolism!~' Feliciano made a fist-punch. 'Symbolism _everywhere_!~'

'It's only logical, Lovi!~' Antonio reasoned.

I huffed. 'Are _you_ going to give away Germany and vice versa then?'

'Now don't say things that don't make sense whatsoever, sweetie.'

'Oh _screw you_!'

'SO ANYWAY,' Hungary suddenly interrupted us again, clearing her (probably hoarse) throat, '…when everybody's finally sitting and standing on the places where they are supposed to be sitting and standing, the ceremony can finally start.'

I gaped at her, _horrified_.

'What the _fuck_, you mean the ceremony _still_ isn't started up to this point?'

'Well…' Hungary hesitated.

'You mean this whole _rehearsal _still isn't started up?'

'Um…'

'Holy _shit_. I hope the guests will bring a surviving kit with them tomorrow, because even the _chairs _look like they're completely fed-up with this.'

France plucked his goatee a bit and narrowed his eyes.

'Maybe somebody should sit on them in turns. You think that would please them?'

'Yes… but who?' Prussia mused. '…it must be somebody who's got a small role in this whole stinking rehearsal anyway…'

'That's your cue, Spain.' Netherlands immediately said, gesturing at Antonio. 'Go on. Atta boy. Use that ass and sit the crap out of the chairs.'

'I guess I could help…' Antonio thoughtfully said.

'Wha— of _course _not! You _don't _have a small role, you're one of the fucking _grooms_!' I nagged, grabbing his arm in case he really was going to walk away, '…hell, you're not going _anywhere_!'

Antonio looked surprised. 'But you said it yourself, Lovi, the chairs are—'

'The CHAIRS are CHAIRS, Antonio!'

'MAYBE,' a loud, stern and demanding vice then all of a sudden cut through the room, '…MAYBE we should all just _continue_ with the rehearsal already and stop discussing all these _absolutely irrelevant_ topics.'

Germany glared at all of us in turns, lingering when he looked at me.

'Maybe, _that_ way, we can finish this rehearsal before sunset – before we have no more time to think over our vows for tomorrow.'

Silence.

We all stared at the German ghetto blaster for a while, speechless.

…

Until Hungary opened her yap again, that is.

'…thank you, Germany.'

She exhaled slowly.

'Well. Then let's… _begin_, alright?'


	70. Pillow

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: For those who don't know yet: my manuscript was rejected. On the same day I updated chapter 69, I got a letter from the publishing company which said they weren't going to publish it. Hah, what a timing!  
__My parents and brothers were all completely bewildered. That was kind of funny:  
__Dad: "WHAT IS THIS MADNESS I DON'T EVEN"  
__Mom: "NO CHILD OF **MINE** GETS REJECTED (by a publishing company)!"  
__Brother O.: "Don't worry, Sis, you'll find a company that's stupid enough to publish your shit—OUCH! Why'd you pinch me, bitch!"  
__Brother H.: "Fuck her book – check my insane muscles instead! HURRRFFH!"  
__Yeah.  
__Hmmm. Too bad I didn't get published.  
__BUT!  
__I'm __**not**__ planning to give up, though – Publishing companies are everywhere! Hop! Next publishing company, plz!~ _8D

_A/n2: GUYS. GUYS. SRSLY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Almost 3,000 reviews. I mean, WHAT. THE FUCK. IS THIS. Are you really going to give me 3,000 reviews? REALLY? REALLY REALLY?  
__Why are you all so wonderful. _*sobs*_ Really, I don't have words for this. If someone had told me in chapter 1 that I was going to receive over 2,900 reviews, I would have laughed him/her in the face, but NOW LOOK AT THAT COUNTER-THINGY.  
__WHOA. Incredible. You must all really like me and my ramblings. I feel like I should bow down to your collective awesomeness and offer you some handmade stroopwafelcake, but alas, I'm out of stroopwafels and I don't know where you all live and it would be a shame if I randomly send cakes all over the world.  
__But anyway. ME LOVES YOU. Whether I'll make it to 3,000 reviews or not. Just so you know._^^

_A/n3: It's almost my birthday. Yaaaay. February 14, I'm turning 24. TWENTY FUCKING FOUR. GOD, I'm so old. But there are still kids I teach at school who think I'm one of the students. YES. Just last week, I had the following conversation with a boy…  
__Boy: "Man, I **hate** maths."  
__Me: "Oh, I hate maths, too." (I do, really.)  
__Boy: _*stares*  
_Me: "Hm?"  
__Boy: "So are you a third-grader or something?"  
__Me: _"0_0"  
_Me: _*walks away feeling weird*  
_A THIRD-GRADER. WHAT. I'M ALMOST 10 YEARS OLDER THAN YOU, PUNK _DDDD8  
_...I still felt kind of complimented, though. Yay, I still look like a 16-year-old!~_

_A/n4: I've sneaked in an almost literal quote from Sailor Moon Abridged. Bonus points and pats on the back for those who can spot it!~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXX:

_**Tears on my Pillow  
**__**(Little Anthony and the Imperials **and/or** Kylie Minogue)**_

And just a few minutes later, the wedding ceremony of tomorrow was _finally _being rehearsed like there was _no fucking tomorrow_.

…

…yeah…

…sort of.

**xXx**

'…'

'…Netherlands, dear?~'

'…hm?'

'Why aren't you saying anything, hmmm?~'

'Oh. Am I supposed to say something now?'

'_Yes_, Netherlands, when everybody's standing and/or sitting where they are _supposed_ to stand and/or sit, you're indeed supposed to say "something"!~'

'You mean that "welcome-to-the-fag-wedding"-speech?'

'That "welcome-to-the-fag-wedding-speech", yes – very _good_, Netherlands, you big, intellectual brute of a man, you!~'

'You better not be giving me sarcasm, woman. Tell it to me straight.'

'_Get on with it, you stinking Dutch JERK._'

'That's not straight. That's just impolite. Now you've hurt my feelings.'

'**Netherlands**.'

'Alright, alright, take it easy, no need to cough out my name like that. I'll start. Okay. Hum, hum…'

The Dutchman cleared his throat – again, very loudly, _why _did he had to do that so damn _loudly,_ for fuck's sake, we _all_ knew he was standing there, dammit, you just couldn't _unsee_ that bastard's giant posture and hair – and after that, he took a long, empty stare into the room, his eyes slowly gliding over the empty chairs, best (wo)men, a scary hag called Hungary and the wedding participants (and yes, that's right, that was me, I was standing there, too. _Hi_ there.).

Then, after the careful, useless inspection of the blond man, he finally spoke up.

'Chapter 19: The Jungle Underneath Her Dress.'

…

…

…what?

'Sir Rutmur gave his beautiful mistress Urania one last smirk, filled with hotness, and then he harshly thrust his mighty, purple spear of manliness, throbbing and glistering of lust, pre-cum and downright dirty wanton, right into her opened, quivering pink valley of moist, wet delight, exploring the wonderful surroundings of her blossoming insides as greedily as he could, not in the least distracted by her ecstatic mewling or her perfectly manicured nails that left deep scratches and cuts of love and passion in his broad, tanned back…'

The blond man stopped reading for a moment and frowned down at the book(s) in his hands.

Eventually, he looked up.

'I think I'm too far.'

Oh he went_** too far**_ alright.

Belgium smiled nervously, looking a bit… hot.

'…a-ah… well… _**I**_ think you're reading the wrong book, big brother…'

'Oh no, no no no no, don't distract the good man, _Femme_, I think he _is_ reading the right book.' France said.

'A very, very right book.' Japan agreed monotonously.

'I don't really get it though. What's the story about?' Antonio asked, frowning. 'Animals? Nature? Something with flowers?'

…

…

I silently pulled him closer to me and covered his innocent ears.

'Veee… naaah, it's about CARNIVAL! And colors! And people having lots and lots of sex! Haha!~' Feliciano randomly shouted.

'_Don't_, Feliciano. _Please_. Don't _vandalize_ those last bits of your innocence by listening to that horrible story.' Germany immediately said, mimicking my good example and protecting my poor brother's ears with his enormous hands.

'I hear you, Luddy!' Prussia snorted, nodding. 'Makes you wonder what the _fuck_ their parents were smoking, huh? I mean, _damn_, just what kind of creep names their kids _Rutmur_ or _Urania_!'

…

Germany thoughtfully glanced his stupid brother's way – then grabbed him by the collar and gestured at him to plug his ears as well.

'Okay then!~ Netherlands?'

Hungary, who had decided to actually _do_ something at last, smiled at the confused Dutchman (who was now flipping through the big black book curiously).

'…why don't you read the text in _your _book instead, hmm?'

'Oh. Yes. I'll do that.'

'And please fold the page were you just ended that last text.'

'…done.'

'Thank you.'

…

…

And the bookswitch-incident was never spoken of ever again.

**xXx**

The rehearsal continued!

…

…again, sort of.

**XxX**

The Netherlands took a deep breath.

'Okay. Here goes. Dearly beloved. And _Spain_. We've gathered here to—'

'Annnnnd _stop_.'

Hungary sighed, rubbing her forefingers and thumbs over her eyebrows as she walked up to the faker-than-fake altar, where the Dutchman was standing.

'…right, do you have _any_ idea why I made you stop, dear?'

'Yes.'

The Netherlands, surprisingly enough, nodded, firmly and very seriously.

'I made a _grave_ mistake. I heard it myself. Sorry for that.'

Hungary hadn't expected that kind of reaction and blinked her eyes.

'Oh. Well. Um… apologies accepted, I guess. Please do that over again, Netherlands. From the start. _Yellow _book.'

'I will.'

Noises of yet another session of fierce throat clearing.

'Dearly beloved _**chairs**__. _And _Spain_. We've gathere—'

'NO! No no _no_!'

The Dutchman's already long face became a bit longer.

'What now? What was wrong with that sentence?'

'_What_ was wrong?' Hungary repeated, astonished, '…do I _really_ have to come up there and explain to you, word by word, _what's_ wrong with it?'

'That would help.'

The Hungarian brunette growled softly in frustration – but gave in and stomped towards the higher-standing man.

'Ohh, I'll _help _you alright, you annoying, mean, large piece of… gmmbrlnknm…'

As she walked over to the Dutchman and started nagging at him, bending towards him and wagging her finger at him like a very unpleased teacher would at an unruly and altogether _awful _child, me and the others groaned and sighed deeply, almost simultaneously.

'Looks like we'll be standing here for the rest of the remaining day…' Antonio said, letting go of my hands for a minute to wipe the sweat on his palms off to his pants.

'Well, that sucks. Damn that evil Dutchman. Look at all the time we've wasted here, dammit! And were still wasting it! Right as we speak! Fuck!'

While talking/nagging, I did the same thing as Antonio, wiping my sweaty hands off to his pants – yes, _his_ pants, since I felt playful and since I was actually wearing a nice pair of jeans again, dammit.

'Oh, I don't really mind it, wasting time like this.'

Antonio grinned at me and grabbed my hands again as soon as we were done drying/wiping them.

'…at least I'm wasting my time with _you_, sweetie, and that's never a really bad thing.'

…

Yes, Antonio's cheesy compliments and flirtations _were_ incredibly corny. I know that. Ohhh _do_ _I know that_. _I'm_ the one who has to put up with them each and every day after all – so, heck, if _someone_ knew the horror of listening to his lisping, _I_ did.

…

…h-his intentions to sweet-talk me never _failed_, though. He never failed to… _charm_ me. NEVER. I was just too vulnerable to his friendly words and flattering comments. Let me put it this way:

If he, from now on, was going to end all of his sentences with "but at least I'm with you, my love", I'd still fucking _melt _every single time I'd hear it coming from him.

Like…

'I'm cold. But at least I'm with you, my love.'

_Melting_.

Or…

'Wow, that's a big meteor coming right at us. But at least I'm with you, my love.'

_Dissolving_.

Or even…

'We better stock up on toilet paper, Lovi, I'm making some _serious_ Chili Con Carne tonight. But at least I'm with you, my love.'

Fucking _alskdjkalskdj _-ing.

…

No, I don't _care_ if that last Chili-example didn't make any sense – I'm just trying to point something out here, dammit, namely that it _really _doesn't matter _what _that damn Spaniard has to say to me, as long as it ends with something sweet and mushy, I'd buy it anyway and I'd have these annoying butterflies/moths/parasites _mobbing _on my stomach en masse in the worst kind of way. _Again_.

That why I, now, _again_, flushed a bit after hearing Antonio's _bad _but successful attempt at sexy sweetness before responding.

'No, w-wasting time with me is _most _of the time not a really bad thing. But sometimes, wasting time like this, even when it's with someone you… k-kind of love, is _bad_. _Very_ bad.' I stammered.

As I already expected, his face fell.

'You think wasting your time with me is a _bad_ thing, Lovi?'

'Well, yeah. Sometimes. Right now, it _is_.'

'Why?'

I reddened some more, but now out of embarrassment.

'Because I still have to finish those damn _vows_ for tomorrow, d-dammit…'

'Ah?' He laughed. '…so do I!'

'Really?' I gave him a weird look. 'I thought you were finished with yours…'

His smile became smaller, more lovingly, and one of his thumbs tenderly stroke over the back of my hand.

'Well, if you stopped giving me new ideas every time I see you, I _would _have been finished.'

Oh GOD.

I stared at him. My cheeks were heating up wayyyy too much again and I chuckled sheepishly, quickly avoiding his gaze after a few seconds of mindless, open-mouthed _gaping_.

'…y-your lame flirting stinks, d-dammit.'

'No, your lame _lying_ stinks.' Antonio said, moving forwards to press a gentle kiss on my forehead, and he let his hands wander up my arms, squeezing them.

I noticed and huffed. 'Fucking molesting bastar—'

A sudden, impatient kiss, right on the lips. A short and quick one, but a very _real_ one, too.

Oh.

_O-oh_…

'…I love you, Lovino…' Antonio softly said afterwards, right after pulling back, and affectionately nuzzled my cheek with a faint, blissful smile on his face.

'…y-yeah…'

I gulped, awkwardly patting his back.

'…I-I love you too…'

**xXx**

Now, I _could_ tell you about all the fruitless attempts of our pathetic little group to do a serious rehearsal that followed after the _first_ failed one…

…or I could just… _skip_ all those fucking _sad _stories and tell you about what happened when it actually went the way it was supposed to be.

It's your choice.

…

Pffft – just kidding, you _really_ don't have _any_ say in this at all.

And since you really don't have any say in this at all, I'll do the choosing for you and tell you about Rehearsal Attempt #17, when everything went – gasp – _okay_.

Mostly because Hungary had stolen Netherlands' cigarettes/pipe/cigars/joints/other smoke-able stuff and threatened to _snap _everything in two if he didn't do what she said, and because she used that _exact_ _same_ tactic with the rest of us:

She promised to rob France of his unstoppable "libido" (I don't want to know) if he didn't behave.

She told Germany she'd mercilessly litter Berlin's streets if he had any complains.

She announced to Prussia she'd send manipulated pictures of him and Austria to Canada if he opened his yap again.

She warned my brother she'd _personally _destroy all kinds of pasta in the world, unless "Veni" would act "like a nice little boy".

She said to Antonio she'd never talk to him _or _his "huggable ass" again if he did anything stupid.

And, last but not least, she informed _me_ that it would be "a shame" to "lose" that "quirky little curl" of mine, "wouldn't it, Romano?~", so I'd better _shut_ _up _if I knew what was good for me and my curl.

A-and I _did_ know what was good for me and my curl.

…

What about Belgium and Japan?

No, Belgium and Japan were her buddies, they didn't get blackmailed, they got a high-five and an invitation to her upcoming movie-night instead.

…

Suspicious.

…

But anyway…

Evil, cunning bitch or not, Hungary's last desperate (and _mean_) attempt to do a good rehearsal with us… _worked_.

It worked _perfectly_, even, because just mere _minutes_ after she had happily blackmail the whole lot of us, a very white-faced Netherlands actually managed to get the (right) text out of his mouth (and he just gagged _once _when saying Antonio's full human name out loud) and we all got through the opening speech _without_ experiencing any more difficulties.

…

No wonder the Dutchman got a grateful, teary-eyed standing ovation from the rest of us as soon as he had finished his text: I mean, holy _crap_, just _look_ at us! It seemed like we were actually _getting_ _somewhere_! At _last_!

After the small but fierce celebration, Hungary explained to us that the Netherlands would _normally_ ask us to read our vows to our fiancé right after his wecome-speech, but he couldn't request that of us _now_, because she doubted any one of us had finished his vows, since we were very flaky, very weird, and, most of all, very _**men**_.

'…except for _you_, Germany, since you are _flawless_.' she instantly corrected herself when a very displeased-looking Germany waved his neatly folded, probably vows-containing paper in the air.

Feeling almighty because of having our full, non-stop, _slightly_ manipulated attention, the Hungarian woman calmly continued her explanation and told us what would happen after the vows had been read out loud.

'When, eventually, the vows have been read out, the Netherlands – _no_, you're _not_ getting your stuff back yet, and _please _get those tobacco fingers out of my face! – will ask you (in turns) if you're prepared to take the one standing in front of you as your lawfully wedded husband and promise him to stay faithful to him even in times of – yadayadayada, you know the thing – and then… "I now declare you husbands!"… and _t-then_…'

Hungary's eyes became glassy as she gnawed down on her lower lip and started squeezing the poor little notebook in her hand _so _tightly, I could hear its hardcover _break_.

'…then… t-then… the best moment of all… the _**KISSING**_…'

She now pretty much _gasped for air_ and even had to loosen her dress a little bit to be able to dramatically inhale-exhale again.

…

…

Nothing new or noteworthy happening here, just Hungary being Hungary, so the four of us just sighed and patiently waited for her to regain her somewhat more normal senses again.

…

Took her a minute or 20 and three emergency-hankies, but oh well.

'Now, remember, dears!~' she _immediately_ carried on after wiping her new, fresh nosebleed with her fourth equally red handkerchief, swiftly twirling around on her feet for some unclear but no doubt _blood-stirringly awful _reason,

'…I expect your _**KISSES**_ to be very hot, sweet, passionate and _long_. Oh yes, long. Long sounds good. Long sounds _**verrrry**_ good.'

Germany hesitated, but had to give in to his inner German perfectionist and carefully raised his hand – again.

'…Hungary, no offence, but I don't think the kisses are supposed to be… _that _long.'

'Ohhh?~' She beamed a cold smile at him, slowly walking his way, '…you think I got it all wrong, dear?~…'

Now that brunette was creeping around him in all her scary Hungary-ness, Germany hesitated even more, shuffling backwards.

'…u-um… no, you don't got it _all _wrong, I just don't think—'

'Precisely! That's the point! You _don't_ think!' Hungary exclaimed, _mowing _her arms through the air, '…otherwise, you would have realized the _importance _of the kissing! Right, Veni, Spain, Roma? Back me up here!'

'Veee, definitely!' my brother automatically agreed.

'Of course!' Antonio also admitted, '…the longer and the more passionate the kiss, the _better_!~'

…naturally, I _didn't_ answer as quickly and instinctively as my dopey lover and dopier brother, and so I just stood there, stumbling and falling over my own tongue a couple of times while fumbling with Antonio's hands madly, until everybody was looking at me, _again_, oh god, just why did I always _encourage_ people to fucking look at me, dammit.

'…well?' Hungary asked, when I was finally holding us up for too long to her liking, '…Romano, dear, you have Latino-blood running through your veins! Surely you agree with us on the kissing, don't you? Come on, you _live _on passion! _Literally_!'

Antonio chuckled. 'Ah, what can I say – I'm doing my best!~'

I ignored Antonio's (oh so _lame_) comment, gathered some courage and frowned at the others, flustering.

'…actually, I-I'd rather have a… _simple_ kiss, dammit… I'd feel fucking awkward at the _least_ if we'd all started… going at it during the ceremony… with everybody watching. That's just… _wrong_.'

'That's not _wrong_ – that's just the power of LOVE and LUST telling you to keep on going, Romano…' Hungary whispered, _trembling_, '…n-no matter how many eyes are on you, you'll just feel this _animalistic_ NEED to keep on kissing your significant one, Romano… and maybe you'll even feel him up a bit… all while thinking something like "_**f-word**_ the police – I'm kissing and groping this stud in front of this huge crowd of unwilling witnesses as much as I _**want**_ to kiss and grope this stud in front of this huge crowd of unwilling witnesses!~" or some other charming words…'

'This may sound odd, coming from me, but… you, _ma_ _chérie_, need _help_.' France concluded with a groan, shaking his head at her. 'Or a pen and a piece of paper to write on.'

'Or a jungle underneath her dress.' Netherlands added.

'M-my vote goes to the pen and the paper… or, wait, no, the jungle…' Belgium breathlessly stammered, clutching her face, '…o-oh no, I can't choose… so much _thoughts…_!'

…

Riiiiight.

So anyway, _meanwhile_, I stubbornly folded my arms and huffed, glaring at Hungary.

'Look, I don't care _what _you'd like to see happening tomorrow, Hungary – and frankly, I like that _very_ much, me not-knowing what you'd like to see – but I'm already telling you _now_ that I'm _not_ going to fucking give all of you a freaking _tongue-battle _to enjoy! Okay? It's a wedding, _my _wedding – and not a damn _peepshow_!'

'But your cute little brother…' Hungary hopefully tried to reason – but I instantly cut her off again.

'My "cute little brother" can kiss however he wants to kiss, dammit – that's not my business. I'm just saying I'm _not_ going to do it that way. I-I want it _chaste_. Chaste and gentle and nice and easy. Got it?'

'Got it.' Hungary complied, a new perv-sparkle shining in her eyes, '…and maybe I kind of like that idea of yours as well, Romano, maybe I indeed kind of like it…'

'Oh _wow_, look at that _motivated_ face of hers! Almost as **awesome **as _mine_ whenever I'm motivated! Only more bitchy!' Prussia pointed at Hungary's face, looking amazed.

'Quick! _Somebody_ hand over a _pen_ and some _paper_ already! France shouted at… at no-one particular, really.

Living with weird creatures around me for over the last few centuries had taught me to be extremely selective in the things I wanted to hear and see, so fortunately, I could easily turn myself away from the loud pack of West-Europeans as I narrowed my eyes at Antonio, who seemed to have been waiting for me to say something to him.

'So.' I snorted. 'Now. Antonio. For your own safety, I hope you'll be able to respect my wish tomorrow.'

'I'll respect _all_ of your wishes, Lovi…' he softly said, with a curious, incomprehensible look on his face. '…and not just _tomorrow_.'

I swallowed. 'W-well _good_. As long as we're on the same wavelength about that, it's fine.'

'Alright then!~'

…

…

I looked at him in silence for a short time, frowning.

Antonio noticed and tilted his head.

'…something you want to ask me, sweetie?'

'…so…' I muttered, '…you… don't mind the chaste-kissing?'

'Not at all.'

'Kind of _hypocritical _of you to say, don't you think so?' I quirked an eyebrow. '…you prefer passionate kisses, after all, and the kiss tomorrow _isn't_ going to be as passionate as you had planned, so—'

'Oh no, it _is _going to be as passionate as I have planned.'

My face felt hot again. 'N-no, you _can't_, you fucking moron! I just told you to keep it _chaste_, dammit!'

Antonio smiled.

'You said the kiss had to be _chaste_ – not that the kiss had to lack any _passion_.'

'…oh.'

'Because I'm not planning to let _that_ happen, my love…'

'…you can give chaste, passionate kisses?'

'_Can't_ I, Lovi?~'

He gave me a teasing little poke in the chest.

However, my eyebrows stayed in their furrowed, critical position.

'…how the hell should _I_ know, dammit, I don't pay that much attention to the level of… passion or whatever whenever you're kissing me…'

'…ah…' Antonio said, sounding disappointed.

'I mean… it…' I carried on in a soft voice, '…it sweeps me off my feet every time you do it anyway… y-your kisses… they're always _good_, really… so… so what's the use of… measuring them, dammit… t-there's nothing romantic about that…'

The Spaniard now looked at me with eyes wide open and cheeks slightly flushed.

'Y-you're right, Lovi.'

'O-of course I'm fucking _right_. I'm always fucking _right _when it's about this subject.'

'Yes. Yes you _are_.' Antonio nodded, determinedly, his lips curving upwards just a little bit more. '…so tomorrow, I'll… I'll just focus on what I'd like you to _feel_ when I kiss you. That… that okay with you…?'

I weakly swore under my breath.

'… y-you damn bastard… making you feel what I feel when I kiss you… that was _my _idea. Asshole. I-I hate it when you steal my ideas like that…'

'I didn't steal anything! You just inspired me, sweetie.'

'My _ass_.'

'Yes, your ass inspires me as well, sweetie.'

I bit my lip and held back a chuckle.

'Fuck you.'

Antonio started to snort a bit in amusement and he looked like he either wanted to hug or kiss me, when Hungary distracted us from our own little rehearsal-distraction by putting away the pen and paper France had – apparently – given her at some point (what, just _what_), and she clapped her hands, sounding very refreshed and suspiciously _**satisfied **_as she raised her voice.

'Alright, everyone!~ Almost there! All we have to do now is dotting the i's and crossing the t's and then we're finished for today – and finally able to do something _fun_, the last few hours before the wedding ceremony starts!~'

'Like writing more dirty pornbooks?' a certain red-eyed albino-freak mumbled quietly, but still way too loud.

'Hahaha! Don't make me want to come over to you and rebuild your face with my (very!) literal masterpiece, Prussia dear!~ You know how nasty those paper cuts can be!~' Hungary heartily laughed, and glanced over to the rest of us, probably expecting a waterfall of "ohhh!" and "ahhhh!" and "yeah, Hungary, you're right, let's have some FUN now!~", but…

…well, we didn't react as enthusiastically as she had in mind, I believe.

…

I mean… _vows_.

We all still had to write and/or correct those. They don't write themselves, you know, and even if they _did_, I heavily doubted if they would be good enough to my liking. I'm extremely critical, after all. Especially about myself and the things I do.

And one look on the faces of Germany, Feliciano and Antonio was enough for me to reassure me of the fact that the others were thinking just as lowly about themselves and their qualities – one of the many wonders of being a nation: you're never completely sure you've developed enough.

So… yeah.

That's why the four just meekly stared back at the Hungarian brunette and at each other, questioningly, silently asking who would be the one to speak up.

A quick shove and kick in his back decided that Germany would be the poor sucker that had to tell her about our plans.

'Hum. Hungary, I… think I speak for the four of us when I say that we… can't go do something "fun" now. We have to work. On our vows.' he said. '…_all_ of us.'

Hungary sighed and cocked her head.

'But I thought you said _you_ were finished with yours, Germany.'

'I am.' Germany frowned deeply. 'But I'm not pleased with the way they turned out. Some o's aren't round enough and some F's are laughing me in the face. It's quite annoying. Therefore, I need to do a careful check up on them, I'm afraid. And maybe I'll add some corrections, too.'

'So…' Hungary said, her voice ringing and tingling and what-not in disbelieve, '…there isn't going to be a… _bachelor_ _party_?'

Me and the other wedding candidates wanted to (kind of embarrassedly) shake our heads, but France, Prussia, Japan and even Belgium were just a little bit faster, grinning broadly at her… and _us_.

'Oh, there's going to be a bachelor party alright – in the wonderful hotel we're staying over tonight!~' the French fuckface said, making weird _jazz-hands_ at us. '_Surprise!~_'

'What?' Hungary confusedly said.

Belgium smiled excitedly and very catlike-y at her.

'You heard him, Lizzie! The four best (wo)men of Europe have all chipped in to give _Antonie_, Roma, Veneciano and Germany the best and most luxurious two nights in Barcelona _ever_!~ The best night-before-the-wedding-night-night, and the actual wedding-night-night! Wait, did I say that the right way…'

'Y-you did _what_?' I stammered.

Feliciano couldn't believe his ears either and clasped his hands in front of his mouth.

'V-veee… you _all_ went and arranged that for us? Really…?'

'Yes, Veneciano. We all did.' the Netherlands said with a soft smile.

Prussia growled. 'Hey, _you_ keep your spiky hair out of this, Mr. Going Dutch, you didn't arrange _shit_ for them!'

'But I was there.' the Dutchman reasoned.

'Yeah – to try and stop your sweet little sister from chipping in!'

'So I was there.' the Dutchman pointed out.

Germany hastily stepped in between them and coughed a bit.

'So _anyway_, Gilbert, what hotel did the… five of you arrange for us?'

'It's hotel _Cerdà I Sunyer_.' Japan abruptly explained. 'Named after a famous Spanish architectural engineer who wanted to put more buildings in Barcelona to make the city bigger – thought Italy-san and Romano-san would like to know that. It's one of the best hotels of Barcelona. And the walls are all sound proof, too. I checked them.'

'…you checked them.' Germany repeated.

'Maybe.'

'Maybe?'

'…maybe.'

'Right…'

'Aww, just forget those stupid walls – more importantly, that hotel has the best booze ever!' Prussia cheered.

'_Oh_!~' Belgium exclaimed in ecstasy, '…yes, and they even have _beer and sweets_!'

'And the best bedrooms in the entire country!' France added. 'With condoms, vibrating beds and – _yes_ – a _**mini-refrigerator**_! What more in life do you wish for!'

'_More_ booze!'

'Haha, oh, shut up, _Gilberthalcoholic_!~'

'Kesekesekese! Up **yours**, _Fagsis_!'

…

…

'Maybe we should sleep on the streets.' I suggested, ignoring the two blabbering freaks and pulling Antonio's sleeve.

He nodded.

'Good idea. We can take the cold. Besides, vibrating beds scare me…'

**xXx**

Fortunately, both France and Prussia stopped acting like the perverted perverts they were when they saw not only Antonio and I, but also _Germany_ was beginning to have second thoughts about accepting their expensive present (not Feliciano, he still was very happy with the gift and couldn't wait to "go for a ride" on a bed – OH MY _GOD _FELICIANO).

I mean… sure, it was a very nice gift of them, and spending two nights in luxury sounded wonderful, and I certainly didn't want to sound ungrateful, but come _on_…

…promoting the hotel because of their drinks? Condoms?

_Vibrating fucking __**beds**_?

Whatever happened to the importance of a decent fucking _presentation_, people?

Good thing Japan and Belgium were there to point out all of the things that us wedding participants would love, like the fact the hotel was close to the _Sagrada Famìlia_ and that the main themes of the expressive hotel (it had Gaudì-esk influences and you could spot it from a great distance) were brown, bronze, expressionism, modernism and romance.

Oh, _romance_. I always loved it when people describe obscure buildings as romantic_: _at least then they know what love and romance _really_ is about!

Japan also pointed out that the hotel had been awarded with several prizes, which said and therefore _proved_ the _Cerdà I Sunyer_ was the cleanest and safest and most disabled-people friendly hotel of all hotels in Barcelona, and that's pretty impressive – it's a fucking huge city, after all – and so thought Germany, who instantly stared smiling, reassured and content with the explanation.

So…

Well, all was good.

The four of us thanked our best (wo)men for this insane and very sweet gift, and promised them to celebrate our last night as "singles" with them – even though that meant they were forced to spend the night on our bedrooms, since we still had to write our vows.

And because it wouldn't be smart if we all wrote our vows/celebrated our bachelor party while sitting and hanging out together, Belgium had come up with the following idea:

She, Feliciano, Japan and I would spend the night together in one huge bedroom, while Antonio, Germany, Prussia and France would share a different room, far, _far _away from ours.

…

…I didn't think that was such a great idea.

Hungary, however…

'What are you complaining about, dear? That's a _great_ idea!'

She beamed a big, bright grin at me, on top of the world again after learning about the (admittedly very nice) things our best (wo)men had organized for us.

'Furthermore, it's very normal in most cultures that both wedding candidates spend their last night before their wedding in separate rooms!~'

'Yeah, okay, I can understand _that_ much, but…'

I paused and glanced over at Antonio and Germany, who were standing a few meters away from us, the arms of both Prussia and France draped around their shoulder while they cackled about all kinds of crap and told each other inside-jokes that made Antonio laugh and Germany frown and me feel all stupid and left out and shit.

'…I'm just not so sure about putting those four weirdoes in a room so far away from mine…' I muttered at last, looking back at Hungary again.

'Why's that?' Hungary's eyes glowed. 'Scared that France and Prussia might make a pass at Spain?'

I let out a short laugh and handwaved her comment away.

'Oh, no. I _know_ they'll make a pass at him, that's not the point – I've seen that fuckface's hand down Antonio's pants more than I have seen my _own _hand down his pants. But that doesn't matter – I trust Antonio. And those bastard-friends of his know I'll _**roast**_ them when I find out they did anything to him.'

'Then what's the matter, dear?' she smiled.

I shrugged. 'Oh, it just makes my vows-plan a bit more difficult to execute.'

Now Hungary's interest was seriously _piqued_.

'Your… vows-plan, Romano?'

'Yes. My vows-plan.' I nodded, acting like I hadn't noticed her curiosity at all.

'And what kind of plan _is_ that vows-plan of yours, dear?'

I smirked and narrowed my eyes at her, fighting against the urge to _smack_ a "won't tell you na-na-na-na-naaa" in her face.

But I didn't.

'Why should I tell _you_?' I haughtily snorted instead, casually brushing some non-existent dust off one of my sleeves.

Hungary frowned and for a moment it looked like she was going to beg, but she was smarter than that – and she proved that by smirking back at me, twirling a strand of her long, brown hair around her finger.

'I could help you out, you know.'

'Help me out?' I said.

'Yes.' She smiled some more. '…you said your plan was going to be more difficult to execute your plan now you know Spain's going to sleep on a room far away from yours. Maybe I could help you out there…?'

I firstly wanted to huff and reject her offer, but the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made if I'd tell Hungary about my plan: she always had access to _all _rooms, after all, not matter the doors were locked or sealed with fire-hot liquid metal or being blocked by 15 burly elephants – if Hungary would want to get inside a room, she would _get _inside that room. Period.

Hm…

…

Hmmm…

…

…

'Okay, I'll tell you about my plan.' I eventually decided, sneaking some looks around me to see if anybody was paying attention to us…

…

…nope, not really…

…

…good. _Perfect_, even.

I nonchalantly gestured Hungary to come a bit closer and whispered, as soon as she had lowered her head a little bit - what, so she was an itsy-bitsy bigger than me! – what I had in mind for the wedding vows… and what she could do for me.

…

What _could_ she do for me, you ask? What _did_ I had in mind for the wedding vows?

…

Heh.

Won't tell you.

Na-na-na-na-naaa.

**XxX**

After explaining Hungary about my vows-plan and getting her undying promise she'd _happily_ help me out with the things I wanted her to help me out with, she decided to clap in her hands once again, for the last time, to catch our last shreds of attention.

'Well!' she started when all of us (reluctantly) looked at her again, '…I think it's safe to say we're almost finished here. Yay! So how about some i-dotting and t-crossing, hmmm?~ We still need to do that before we can leave the room, pack our bags and hit the road for Barcelona!'

'What are you talking about?' Germany asked, scratching his head confusedly, '…i-dotting, t-crossing… are you talking about writing here or just traffic?'

'None of that, dummy!~' Hungary cheerfully said, '…I'm talking about the last things we need to do before leaving Madrid.'

'And what _is_ it that we need to do before leaving Madrid?'

The Hungarian brunette raised a hand and tapped a finger on her other hand's ring finger.

'Turn in the rings, boys.'

…

It was like Hungary had announced this entire Random Room was actually a library in disguise so _ssshhhhhh!_, because we all suddenly shut up and stopped with whatever we were doing to stare at her, slowly realizing what she wanted us to do.

'Turn in the rings?' Feliciano then softly said, enclosing his hand over his ridiculously abstract ring, '…veee… but I don't want to turn in my ring…'

'You'll have to, dear. Sorry.' Hungary said. 'So… put off the rings and give them to the best (wo)man of your fiancé. He/she'll give it to your fiancé tomorrow, and your fiancé will put it back on your finger again when the moment's there. Do you understand, Veni-dear?'

'Veee…' Feliciano pouted, but nodded, looking at his left hand's ring finger one more time before carefully removing the tomato-ring – and I saw Germany do the same thing.

And Antonio, too.

He also stared at it for a short while, but then he slid it off his right hand's ring finger as well, looking my way with a gentle smile on his face as soon as he was holding the little silver band in his hand.

'Ah, it's weird, but it already feels strange not to wear it anymore, Lovi…'

'S-sentimental wuss.' I snorted, looking away from him – and swiftly removed my own ring with unwilling, unsteady fingers, pursing my lips together tightly.

…n-not that I had any difficulties with taking off that ring. Naaah. Of course not. I don't feel affection for cold, hard items like this silver ring.

…

…but I _did_ feel affection for the feelings, the symbol that this single cold, hard silver ring represented.

T-the symbol of Antonio's… of _mine _and Antonio's lo…

…

…n-no, forget it, I'm not going to say it, I'm _not_ going to fucking say it, dammit.

I took a semi-deep breath and briskly walked over to France, grabbing his wrist, turning it and planting my ring in the palm of his hand with a quick and hasty movement.

'…h-here you go. Lose it and I'll kick your ass back to Paris faster than you can say "now where did I put it".'

France blinked, looked down at the silver ring and grinned, winking at me teasingly.

'Well, I believe this is a _very_ special day. This day will be known as the historical day that South Italy, alias Romano, alias Lovino Vargas – good luck with saying all _those _names tomorrow, _Pays-Bas_ – forced a wedding ring upon France, alias Francis Bonnefoy. I must say I'm _touched _indeed!~'

'Better watch it before that little runt indeed "touches" you.' Netherlands blankly said back, nodding his head at me and the growing cloud with flashing lightning bolts above my head.

'Oh, he's got nothing on me! He's scared to death of me!' France heartily laughed, '…I admit he's a lot more frightening when I piss him off like this but… well, I could always blackmail him and his brother with their financial troubles, you know!~ Besides – you'll help me out if he attacks me, right?'

The Dutchman gave him a long and empty look.

'…_right_?' France insisted, looking a bit more nervous when I started _cracking_ my knuckles.

'Depends.' The Netherlands finally said. 'I'll protect you from one little lanky Italian hothead, but only if you do one little thing for me.'

'Do _what _exactl—'

'Stop bugging him. Guy's got a whole life full of Spain ahead of him – give him some damn credits already, you French beard-monkey.'

France's jaw dropped. 'What! That's _uncalled_ for! That's—'

'Also, pay me the ten bucks he still owes me.'

'What? _Never_!'

'Five bucks then.'

'No!'

'Two-and-a-half.'

'Oh, go to hell, you!'

'Sure – just give me some money for the bus fare.'

'JUST GO AWAY!'

…

I watched France's and Netherlands' bickering for a minute or two, but when feeling my anger-level was lowering again, I quietly turned around and walked away from them.

No my problem anymore.

…

_What_?

I needed to do _more_ than stupidly hang around and thank that Dutch giant for sticking up for me!

…

…

…alright, I'll thank him later, dammit…

**xXx**

Just a few minutes later, the ten of us left the Random Room.

Me, Antonio, Feliciano, Germany, Hungary, Japan, Belgium, France, Prussia and the Netherlands.

In that order.

…

…well, Antonio and I and Germany and Feliciano were actually walking hand-in-hand, and Hungary, Belgium and Japan and France, Prussia and Netherlands also formed two very unlikely and especially _loud_ groups, but you get what I mean. And if not – _tough_.

…

Now.

All we needed to do now was pack our bags, and wedding suits, and other necessary and unnecessary stuff, and then we'd be on our way to Barcelona. To our hotel.

And…

…on our way to our wedding, I guess.

…

…

Just a few hours left, really…


	71. Jiggler

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: The beautiful title of this chapter is brought to you by the fantastic and stunning **bakagohome**. Thanks for the many, MANY MANY MANY song-suggestions, dear!~ You're a real savior!_

_A/n2: Okay. Let's make another prediction. I think I'll finish this story before reaching… chapter 80.  
__THERE.  
__It would be nice if I could finish this fic before reaching chapter 75, but ohh, I know myself and I know that during the wedding night, there will be **at least** two fucks – I mean, lovemaking-scenes.  
_…_aaaaannd that's all I'm going to tell you about it._^^

_A/n3: I think I should tell you that pretty much all the hotels, restaurants, lunchrooms, cafes and buildings I used in this fic are REAL – just look them up! – but that one weird Russian bar and this "Cerdà I Sunyer" hotel everybody's staying over at are made-up, since I wanted more room for my own imagination and stuff.  
__Mister Ildefons Cerdà i Sunyer really existed though, and he really was an architectural engineer that wanted more buildings in Barcelona.  
__Yup. Funfacts, yay!~_

_A/n4: …and another thing. I said to some lovely reviewers that the wedding ceremony would start in **this **very chapter, buuuuut.  
__Heh. Well. It's going to be chapter 72, because…Ikindarambledagainteehee.  
__You'd almost start to wonder if I do these things on purpose. I really REALLY don't. It's all Lovi's fault. He's too much fun to write. _*huffs*

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXI:

_**The Jiggler  
**__**(Dave Chisholm)**_

Okay, I _really_ don't want to lose any more time with pointless explanations and big stories about, well, nothing much, really, so please pay some fucking attention and listen up already, so I can tell real quick what happened in the next five hours after I, Antonio, Feliciano and all those other nations had left the Random Room.

So.

This is what happened in the next five hours after I, Antonio, Feliciano and all those other nations had left the Random Room.

…

Shut up. Of course I totally planned it to repeat myself. I fucking love repeating myself, it's like a little piece of wonderfulness happening each and every time I point out the obvious to myself. Fucking amazing and—

ANYWAY.

After leaving the Random Room, we all went back to the bedrooms to pack our bags.

Now, I don't really know how things went with Feliciano and the others, but as for me and Antonio, we were done packing our important belongings faster than Hungary was done reading a pervy 18+ magazine.

We just (carefully) grabbed our fancy wedding suits, (carefully) stuffed them, together with our shoes and underwear and whatnot, in our big suitcases – he had a red one, I had a green one, felt like we were Super Mario and Luigi for a second, don't know why, I mean, we would be one seriously fucked-up, incestuous version of Super Mario and Luigi – and then left our bedroom to wait in the hallway for the rest to show up.

Feliciano and his _hideous_ purple-dotted trolley (oh for the love of _crap_) were the first one to show up after me and Antonio, followed by Prussia, France, Belgium, Japan, the Netherlands and Hungary.

Last one to show up: Germany.

That's right – _Germany_! That surprised me as well: come on, he's freakin' _Germany_, surely _he_ knows what to pack and what not to pack? Right?

And _yes_, Germany told us that he _indeed_ knew what he had to pack and what he didn't had to pack, he just wanted to be absolutely _sure_ he had everything he needed and therefore, he checked up on the bedroom and bathroom at least _sixteen_ _times_ before feeling confident enough to grab his massive varmint-green suitcase and leave the damn room already.

When we all had gathered in the big hallway, Hungary and Germany first attempted to arrange some weird carpool system in the group, since it's always nice to save a few euros from being spend to gas and benzene and shit, or so they reasoned, but nobody – but the Netherlands, who was even taking fucking _notes_ – really listened, so in the end, we all ended up saying "oh what the hell, screw this _shit_", hopped into our cars and wastefully stepped on the gas.

_Fuck_ yeah! No more lollygagging! On to _Barcalona_!

Always wanted to use that word in a sentence, by the way – lollygagging.

Lollygagging lollygagging.

Ha! Such a funny verb.

I mean, is it a verb about lollypops? Gagging? Is it about _gagging_ in lollypops? Is it a metaphor that stands for almost suffocating in something that looks a lot like a lollypop but actually really _isn't _a lollypop? Who knows?

I probably needed more time to figure out this one.

Or more sex.

…

_Pfffrrt_ yeah _right_.

Anyway, so we were off. In our own cars. Yup.

Good thing Antonio had actually got his car back from America.

'Well, it's a good thing you got your car back from America.' I even pretty literally told Antonio when we drove away from his House, following the ugly grey _machine _of Germany, the blue SUV-monster of the Netherlands and that _can-car _of Hungary.

He had laughed.

'Yeah, I know!~ What a relief, right? I was sick and tired of always being the passenger, so I'm glad I have my good old car back again: at least we can now take on things at our own pace.'

'Speaking of which – you better try to keep up with the others, you're losing track of them.'

'Oh! Where did they go?'

'The next turn left.'

'Ah! Thank you, Lovi.'

'Don't mention it.' I looked to the side, stretching myself. '…so tell me, when did that American douchebag return your car?'

'Hmm?' Antonio didn't look up from his steer.

I had frowned. '…well, he must have returned it to you at _some_ point during the last few days, right?'

'Oh, ahahaha, no, not really!~'

That odd reply had surprised me.

'What do you mean, "not really"?' I asked.

Antonio still did his _very_ best to avoid looking at me.

'Yeah, I kind of stole it.'

I stared at him, bewildered.

'…you… you _what_?'

'I… stole it?' Antonio voice became increasingly softer as he repeated himself.

'You _stole _your _own car _back from America?' I put it all together.

'Bingo!~'

'Don't you fucking _bingo-squiggle_ me!'

'A-ah…' He cringed a bit.

'When! How! _Why_!'

'Um, n-now wait a minute, give me some time to think about it…' Antonio stammered, '…okay… I think I got it… here I go. When: when we returned from the _Sagrada Familìa_, how: by just… getting into it, and why: because… because I wasn't really thinking right at that moment, I just thought I had to get you back at home as soon as possible, and I didn't want to wait for Germany and his maps, and I just… _saw _it right there, with the keys in the contact and all, and so… I took it.'

'Alright, I-I can understand the situation you were in, with me being passed out and all, but… come on, Antonio… that wasn't… _nice _of you.'

'But-!'

'And _you're_ supposed to be the _nice_ one of the two of us, remember?'

'Yes, but I-I actually didn't even _realize_ I stole it! It took me a while! I only thought about it for a very short time when we were back at home and you were being taken care of by Doctor Tosca (where did we leave her, by the way?)… and then you woke up, and then I was like "oh! Lovi has _arisen_!~" and then I kind of forgot all about it again…'

'…well, okay.'

'…'

'…'

'…sooo… did America call you about it or anything?'

'No, but I left a note!'

'Where?'

'On the spot I found my car!'

'And you left it… _there_.'

'Yes!'

'In the loose sand of the construction site.'

'Um… yes…'

'Between all the cranes and tools and all.'

'…I put a rock on it.'

'You're fucking _brilliant_, Antonio.'

'A-ahahaha…'

'Ugh… okay, well… forget it, just… follow the others for now.'

'…r-right…'

'Next turn left again.'

'Okay…'

'Fucking thief.'

'Loviii!'

And after making Antonio feel bad about himself and making _myself_ feel bad about making _him_ feel bad about himself, I made a quick phone-call to America to apologize to him in Antonio's place for stealing his car back from him, but it turned out that that blond douchebag hadn't even _missed _the car and he even thought that Antonio was _lying_ about stealing his car back, since the American was _still driving around in it_ as long as he was staying over in Europe/England's place.

Which means he had taken _another_ red, Spanish car that was identical to Antonio's.

Which means there was a very unhappy Spaniard somewhere in Barcelona right now, who was staring at an empty parking lot and, if he/she was _lucky_, Antonio's pathetic, confusing little letter.

…

But yeah.

Other than that, the trip to Barcelona went pretty well.

And I'll make sure that man/woman gets his/her car back.

…

Well, I'll _try_. Yeah.

…

Moving on.

Fortunately, once we all arrived at hotel _Cerdà I Sunyer_, things suddenly went very smoothly. Hell, it went so damn smoothly and quickly, it scared the whole lot of us. Antonio, Feliciano and I even had to _sit down_ for a while to recover from the immense shock of being _a bit_ _too early _for a change.

You might think I'm overreacting, but _really_, the parking, the in-checking, the baggage, the personal, the rooms – all was arranged just _perfectly_, so I actually have no words for these particular happenings. I _really _haven't. The service was just _that __**good**_.

And _fast_.

_Lord_, was it _fast_.

The service was so good and fast, the nine of us were already sitting in the huge Dining Room only _half an hour _after arriving at the hotel – and we all had even found the time to freshen ourselves up a bit before going to the beautiful restaurant inside the hotel, too!

'I can see why this hotel's all-inclusive service has gotten so many lovely reviews…' France had mused while swirling his wine around.

'I can _taste_ it!' Prussia added with a grin, taking a fucking asocial _gulp_ from his huge glass of beer.

'I can even _feel_ it.' The Netherlands said. 'In my wallet.'

Belgium huffed. 'You didn't _pay_, big brother.'

'Yes – that's why.'

Then, after having some drinks first – and witnessing Hungary forcing Netherlands to choose between chipping in anyway or saying _ta-ta _to his beloved _waterpipe_ (what the _fuck_) – we could all enjoy our wonderful all-inclusive meals.

Pasta for Feliciano (totally didn't see it coming), potatoes and _wurst_ for Germany and Prussia, some gooey, green shit called _pea_ _soup_ (_**yuck**_) for their Dutch neighbor, pancakes for Belgium, some very meaty, fleshy kind of dish for Hungary that looked like it was going to eat _her _instead if the other way around, nasty sushi-shit for Japan, traditional _paella _(with lots of seafood in it) for Antonio, and just a nice, big _Pizza Margarita _for me, since I was craving for a simple yet giant _Pizza Margarita_.

We all ate our food and made wonderful orgasmic sounds while eating it – hey, what did you expect, we all have to promote food that's coming from our own country to the other nations, that's good for tourism and shit, and we all just were very, very hungry.

…

And it was kind of fun to watch Antonio's face light up like a big fat beetroot when I was moaning yummy-noises and making obscene tongue-movements with all the cheese on my pizza.

It was a lot _less_ fun to watch France's (fuck)face react the same way, though.

…

But anyway, the food was good, and so was the dessert. I don't exactly remember _what_ we all had for dessert anymore, but it was chocolaty, creamy, sugary and it made me feel very fat and unattractive after eating it.

And therefore, it must have been pretty fucking amazingly wonderful.

And I'm _never_ going to eat it again.

…

So yeah.

When we were finished eating dinner and dessert, we all stayed together for a bit, chatting, discussing the food, having…

…well, a pretty good _**fucking AWESOME**_ time, actually!

It turned out that Feliciano, Germany, Prussia, Hungary, Netherlands, Belgium and Japan actually were a lot of fun to hang out with – as long as nobody was sticking their hands where they didn't belong and as long as there weren't pointless and _endless _discussions about sex, or money, or wars, or economics, or relations.

…

And since there were _**no**_ discussions for the rest of the evening (WHOA!) when were all still together, I couldn't do anything but conclude that all these weird persons I was hanging out with actually were…

…

…kind of cool.

You see, everybody seemed to have a _role_ that _worked_ just _right_ in this particular situation:

Feliciano was the funny, not-so-innocent clown of the group, making me laugh time after time by making silly gestures at Germany and reminding me of some good old times, when we still lived under one roof, like that one time when we went and blew up the kitchen when trying to cook something new that had something to do with pasta, tomatoes, a wooden spoon and a very tuned-up microwave.

Germany was the super-serious, no-nonsense man who was constantly being teased by Feliciano and Prussia and even made us all burst out laughing one moment when he started a conversation with a local Spaniard with nothing more but a menu card and a very useless Antonio that constantly made wrong translations and encouraged Germany to say things like "I happen to like grilled planes and what a nice nose you have" and "The bathroom in your eyes looks wonderful at sunset".

Prussia was the loud, obnoxious dude that was ignored by everyone, except for that one time when he came back from the toilet with this long trail of toiletpaper sticking to his shoes and didn't figure out why we were all making such stupid puns about toilets and paper at him for almost an hour.

Hungary, Belgium and Japan were the ones that suddenly challenged the rest of us for a "deadly" game of "Truth or Dare", a game that not only revealed that Germany had some vague memories about his past, but also one of _my_ biggest secrets, namely that I've always been attracted to Antonio since… w-well, ever since I was a child, I guess…

Antonio was the one that occasionally made a stupid remark and got smacked on the back of his head for that – mostly by me, sometimes by the Netherlands, too, because he _could_ – and because he always grabbed an amazing opportunity to smack his former boss when it was "practically rubbing itself" in his face, or so he told me.

At last, France and the Netherlands were the ones that made the best remarks and jokes, for some strange, unsettling reason, and I…

…

…well, I was there, too.

And I had, like I already have said, the _fucking time of my life_.

Really, if… if _this_ was supposed to be something like a bachelor party – laughing, making fun of each other, talking really loudly, letting the people of the hotel play all of your favorite music and eating/drinking a hundredth different things at the same time without feeling nauseous – I couldn't thank our best (wo)men and friends enough for this.

Eventually, when it had become kind of late in the evening (11:00 o'clock – maybe not really "late in the evening" for most people, but don't forget we still had to write our vows), the alert and very aware-of-our-situation-working people of the hotel sent all of us back to our two rooms, and that's where I was now, working on my vows.

…

And that's where my _very_ clean, quick and short explanation about what happened in the next five hours after I, Antonio, Feliciano and all those other nations had left the Random Room, ends.

…

…

…well, it seemed a _lot_ cleaner, quicker and shorter in my _head_, alright…

Oh, whatever.

**xXx**

I was almost finished.

Last sentence…

Last word…

…and last punctuation… thingy…

…

…

Done.

Ha.

I grinned triumphantly and clicked with my pen, leaving it on the soft, green fabric of the small, yet comfy (and non-vibrating – _very _important) sofa I was lying on and I sat up on my knees, studying the last corrections and additions I made to the final version of my vows.

Oh, they were…

They were really, terribly cutesy and cheesy and sugary and _gah oh my fucking god so evilly sweet what in the world had I created _and I think…

I think I was _very_ _happy_ with the way they had turned out.

Way too corny to my taste. Yup. No way I was _ever_ going to have enough courage to spit out all of this very honest, very genuine, very sentimental heart-to-heart message for Antonio, _especially_ not with a whole damn _continent _silently observing us on the background tomorrow.

Seriously, I'd fucking _die _of _shame _if I'd ever read out these words.

…

Good thing I had my _plan_. And things were going _perfectly_ according to my plan so far.

Not that my plan was _that_ hard to execute – it just had two actions, really. Maybe even just… one-and-a-half if you don't count the vows-writing. So if one thing went alright, all of it actually went alright.

Or so I hoped. Oh well. We'd see.

Anyways, I was done writing my vows now, so that was a whole load off my chest. The only thing I had to do now was wait for Hungary to show up and make sure my roommates didn't notice anything suspicious.

That's why I extremely casually stretched my arms all of a sudden… and looked around the room.

My eyes immediately started searching the dimmed bedroom, ready to warn me for any unwanted signs of life, but paused just as quickly when they noticed the three sleeping figures on the enormous, also non-vibrating bed in the middle of the room.

Aha – _there_ they were.

Could have missed them.

…well, not really, the bed was practically right in front of the sofa I was currently lounging on, but still. I _could _have missed them.

If I had been blind.

…

Anyway…

I noticed Belgium first. She had fallen asleep somewhere at the foot of the bed, on her back, her head dangling over the side, her lips covered with chocolate and her never-fading, authentic feline smile present on her face.

Feliciano was lying on top of her (no, you dirty perverts, they were in a X-like formation, really, not that he was seriously _squishing_ her into the mattress with his fat ass or anything), on his tummy, his arms dangling over the side of the bed as well as he made soft snoring noises.

And Japan, Japan proved to be the only one with a functioning brain, because he actually was the only one who was lying in bed like people are _supposed_ to lie in bed: underneath the covers, somewhere in the middle of the bed, on his back, sleeping peacefully and quietly, like a ninja, really.

Oh.

I stared at the blissful, relaxing image in front of me for a while, then blinked.

Okay then. Looked like I didn't have to worry too much about my roommates…

…

Fucking _pussies_.

…

But hey, on the other hand, who was I to blame them for sleeping already at – let's see – half past eleven?

Hell, if I thought about it for a while, I could definitely understand why everybody was already sleeping. Admittedly, it _had_ been kind of a long day. The rehearsal seemed to have last _five_ _whole_ _fucking_ _weeks_ instead of just a few hours in the morning/afternoon, and there was so much delay, and then brother Desideriu- I-I mean, _Vatican City_ came popping up out of nowhere and disappearing again _into_ nowhere, and then all the shit with the Netherlands and France and something with mental stuff and Japan in a fake altar and a camera…

…

Christ, looking back at this day, it actually was a fucking _miracle _I was still awake.

But not really, because insomnia.

Really weird, unusual, selective insomnia, insomnia that could be solved by adding just one specific Spaniard to my, as Austria and/or France would happily put it, _repertoire_, but still very much insomnia.

…

Yup.

Yuuup yup yup.

Good for the vows-writing (because even though mine were done now, I _theoretically_ still had the entire night to finish/correct them), but _baaaaad _for my alertness tomorrow (because it would look pretty lame and stupid if answered the "do you blahblahblah" –question with "yezzzzzzzzzzz" or, worse, with a firm "no", since I tended to always say no in my sleep, no matter what the question was, oh god, maybe I should be worried).

So yeah…

…what to do now, what to do now.

…

I kind of had _nothing_ to do now.

Nothing to do but _sleep_, that is.

But I _couldn't_ sleep in these conditions.

…

And then reality hit me like a… like a rock-filled snowball in the _snoot_.

I… I wasn't going to get some shuteye at _all_ tonight, was I?

…

Crap.

This was going to be a loooong night…

I sighed deeply, put away my vows and stared at the big, brown clock hanging on one of the equally brown slash bronze walls for a moment, silently asking myself if I should just… I don't know, take a lazy walk through the halls of the slumbering luxury hotel that was _Cerdà I Sunyer_ or if I should wake my roommates up – after Hungary had come and gone again, of course - and demand them to stay awake with me...

But speaking of Hungary, where was she? What was taking her so long?

I mean, she had promised me to give me a quick text-message when she was coming this way, but I hadn't seen or heard anything yet…

…

Oh god.

She couldn't be asleep, could she?

Oh fuck.

My way of breathing sped up a little bit and I swallowed.

Oh fuck fuck _fuck_. Please don't let _that _be the reason for her unforgivable stressful behavior (well, for _me_, it was), please don't let her be on her room, fast asleep and dreaming of gross-naked-men-in-swimming-pool-having-sex-parties, please please plea—

_Knock-knock!~_

The sound of the humble knocks on our bedroom door (we had Room 1.51, by the way) instantly made me stop freaking out and I jolted my head up, looking at the dark-brown door like it was fucking _Santa _standing behind it.

Or _France_.

_Fucking_ Santa.

…

…shit, I needed _help_.

_Knock-knock!~_ the impatient door said again and I hastily jumped up off the sofa, glancing at the nations on the big bed one last time before tiptoeing to the door at _full speed, _which hopefully was just as manly and cool and I wanted it to be, but probably not.

Luckily, thanks to my amazing dancing around the room on the tips of my toes, everything went just fine and as soon as I had safely reached the door, I kind of _smacked _my ear (and the remaining of that side of my face) against the hard wood.

'W-who's there!' I subsequently hissed.

A short, almost overwhelming silence.

'…hello?' I said again, frowning.

'Um… is that a trick question, dear? Am I supposed to have a codename or something?' a familiar voice asked on the other side of the door, '…because if I was supposed to have one, I'd like to have… "Leonardo da Vinci's secret male lover" as my codename!~'

Naturally, I knew enough – and I uttered a sigh of relief.

'Hi, Hungary. I was already wondering when I'd hear from you. Wait, let me open the door for yo—'

'Oh no, no no no, don't you _dare _opening this door, mister!' Hungary nagged, cutting me off.

My hand obeyed and stayed put on the doorknob, not making any movements.

'Um… sure, Hungary, but… why not?'

'Well!' She snorted. 'Aren't you the _gullible _fool, Romano! I could be practically _anybody_!'

'No, I'm… pretty sure you're only Hungary. _Very_ Hungary.'

'You don't know that for _sure_! I could also be a _stranger_! Or an _intruder_!'

'Hungary, you could be all _three_ options.'

'_That's_ what I'm talking about! You can't trust _anybody_ at times like these! Oh, the dangers of opening hotel doors during nighttime! There are killers lurking around _everywhere_, waiting to slay cute gay guys like yourself who aren't careful enough when opening hotel doors in the middle of the night… slay them with just a mere _**toothbrush**_!'

'What's your damn _point_, woman.'

'Let's do this over!'

'Do _what _over?'

'This whole sly-meeting-someone-at-the-door-thing! And this time, make sure you ask for my _codename_, first!'

'But—'

'Take two, Romano! Take two! Wait, I'll re-assume my position!'

I groaned as I heard her pitter-patter a bit backwards (at least I _think_ she pitter-pattered backwards), but decided it would be best to just go with the flow and let Hungary have her share of fun.

So second later, when there was another light _knock-knock!~ _at the door, I knew what to do.

'Who's there.'

'It's me!'

'Who's me.'

'The _King of Spain_!'

'Fair enough. Come on i—'

'_Romano_!'

'…oh _fine_.' I rolled my eyes. '…sorry, that's the wrong answer. Not opening the door for you.'

'_Good_, Romano! After all, you can't ever be _too_ sure when someone gives you the wrong codename, even when that someone's voice is so identical to mine!~'

'Thanks, Hungary. I'm learning so much from you.'

'Ohh, don't mention it, dearie!~' she giggled, '…now, pay attention, I'm doing it for _real_ this time!'

'Holy shit, really? That's fucking amazing, Hungary. Gosh, I hope I'm ready for it.'

'I'll just pretend I didn't hear that. Okay. Here goes!~'

_Knock-knock!~_

'Who's there…'

'It's me!'

'Who's me…'

'Leonardo da Vinci's secret male lover!~'

'Now how about that, a person at my door that has been dead for centuries. How wonderful. Please come in.'

'Nooo, you're not supposed to answer like tha—'

'I said PLEASE COME IN.'

'Alright, alright…'

I opened the door – thing wasn't even locked, better not tell Hungary, even though it probably wouldn't make much difference – and glared at the moping brunette standing in the stylishly lit hallway.

'You're no fun.' she said, crossing her arms. 'After all I've done for you, I expected you to be a lot more _grateful_.'

'I _am _grateful!' I defended myself, 'I just want to get this all over with, dammit, before anybody wakes up and notices what I'm planning to do!'

'You mean everybody else is already asleep?' Hungary asked.

I nodded. 'Yep. I'm the only one awake.'

'Oh well…'

The Hungarian woman smiled reassuring, grabbed my hand and gave me a couple of neatly folded papers.

'Now that you have _this, _I bet you'll sleep a lot better, right?'

I hesitated, but decided not to tell her about my sleeping disorder, or whatever it was, and just handed over the papers _she _was supposed to receive from _me_.

'…in any case, Hungary, you know what to do with _these_, don't you?'

'Oh, yes!'

She laughed a bit more and put away the papers I had given to her, sticking out her tongue playfully.

'Silly me – only after I've fully completed the job you've asked me for you'll be able to sleep a lot better!~ Isn't that right, Romano?'

I readily opened my mouth, wanting to tell her "yes" and "please go away now", but the longer I avoided her curious gaze, the more I waited, and the less convincing I was when I eventually _did_ nod. And I did it sheepishly, too.

Hungary frowned.

'Okay, what was that pause about, dear?'

'…adding some drama to it?' I tried.

'You don't _like _drama, Romano. At least, not as much as I'd like you to like.' Hungary said. 'And adding that trembling little question mark at the end of your sentence wasn't exactly emitting confidence, either.'

'Oh.' I muttered.

'Is there something wrong, dear?'

'Not really.' I shrugged, looking down. 'There's just a little thing that's a bit inconvenient right now, that's it.'

'And what is that?'

'I don't want to tell.'

'But I _want_ you to tell.'

'It's nothing to worry yourself about.'

'But I _am_ worrying myself about it.'

…oh brother.

I let out a frustrated groan and nervously scratched the back of my head.

'Look, Hungary, just go bring those papers to Antonio and Co's room and _leave_ it already, okay?'

'Of course!~' Hungary beamed a small smile at me. '…_after_ you've told me what's wrong.'

I just angrily stared at her, saying nothing.

After a short while, she snorted.

'I'm afraid looks can't kill, Romano. And I'm not going to leave before you'll tell me what's wrong with you. So tell me… what's keeping you from sleeping, dear?'

I frowned deeply. '…um—'

Hungary _immediately_ cut me off with a startled gasp.

'Oh dear, you're not getting _cold_ _feet_, are you?'

'What? No, no!' I hastily shook my head. '…no, it's nothing like that! Of course not, I've been dying to marry Antonio for fucking _years_, dammit!'

'Then what's—'

'I _can't _sleep.' I quickly said.

Hungary blinked her eyes – which had become a bit more… glossy and… _hopeful_.

'Y-you mean you're… scared of the dark?'

'_What_?'

'Oh, that's just _adorable_!~' Hungary squealed in a very high-pitched voice, intertwining her fingers together excitedly, '…oh, and so _fitting _for a cute little guy like you!~ Nagging, snarling Romano, scared of the big bad _dark_!~'

'S-_ssssshhhhhh_!' I hissed and looked over my shoulder to see if everybody on the bed was still fast asleep – yes they were, thank _god_ – before shaking my head even _more_.

'I'm _not _scared of the dark, you crazy, Hungarian madwoman! I just _can't_ _sleep_! I have insomnia!'

She stopped making loud and panting (oh god) noises and gave me a discouraged pout, lowering her shoulders.

'Ah, that's too bad…'

I huffed. 'I _hope _you're talking about me, not being able to sleep. That really _is _too bad.'

'…sure, sure…' she sighed, hand waving it away.

'But that's… not _completely_ true, I actually _am_ able to sleep, but only when…'

I paused.

Hungary saw – and heard – the uncomfortable pause and forgot about her disappointment for a moment.

'Only when _what_, dear?'

I stared at the dark, brown carpet below me and rubbed my arm.

'…o-only when Antonio's here.'

Another short silence fell in the room – and hallway. I felt incredible small, weak and vulnerable in that silence, but I hoped my tough and hard appearance knew to push some of that insecurity away, back to the background.

'Oh…'

Hungary's voice was surprisingly soft.

'S-so yeah.' I mumbled.

'So you're… going to stay awake for the rest of the night?'

'Yes.'

'Unless Spain's with you?'

'…y-yes.'

Hungary made a thoughtful "hmmmmm…" noise.

I slowly looked up from the carpet.

'…um… Hungary? Is everything—'

'Sorry, gotta go, dear. See you tomorrow.'

And she didn't even wait for me to say something when she spun around and resolutely walked away from me.

She didn't run away, or even speed-walked away – no, she literally _walked_ away. And even though I could easily catch up with her, her steady, firm pace warned me to keep _that _out of my head and just go inside the room already.

…

…well, okay.

I guess I'll just do that, then…

**xXx**

A bit confused, I closed the door again.

Then I stared at that same door for a couple more seconds, and then I sighed, turned around and walked over to one of the four closets on Room 1.51, namely, _mine_.

I could recognize the first closet in the row was _my_ closet, because there was a hanger hanging outside the closet with my black wedding suit on it, very neatly dusted off and ironed and flawless and organized and all – yup, definitely mine.

Okay.

Time for my next and second-to-last-step in my master plan, believing Hungary would probably succeed in her endeavors…

I took a deep breath, looked at the folded papers in my hand and resisted the urge to do something I wasn't supposed to do before the time was there… and reached for my pants.

I held open one of the pockets and swiftly slipped the papers inside of it.

There.

Done. Again.

Now all that was left to do for me now, was wait for the morning to come as quickly as possible.

And in the meantime, I would just…

…

…I-I don't know, polish my shoes for the _umpteenth_ time this day, I suppose, and…

_Knock-knock-knock_.

My eyes automatically were drawn back to the hotel door and I stared at it.

Hmm? Now who the fuck could _that_ be, this late in the evening?

Hungary, perhaps?

Or…

…

…f-fuck, maybe I sound like a total moron for thinking this all of a sudden, but what if… w-what if Hungary was _right_?

_Knock-knock-knock._

Gah!

What if there was a toothbrush-wielding, gay-slaying bastard knocking on my door?

Now _that_ would be unpractical.

…

W-well…

O-only one way to figure out…

Like a badass _tiger_, I silently crept back to the door, one large step after another… and I gulped, reaching a shaking hand out to the grey doorknob when I was almost there, almost there, and—

_Knock-knock-kn— _

**BANG**.

A split-second later, pain shot through my forehead when the knocked-open door swung _right _into my face. _Hard_.

And FUCK, that HURT!

I uttered a strangled yelp, but somehow managed to silence myself by clasping my mouth and ferociously gnawing on my fingers. For a second it even looked like I was even going to fall down on my ass from the sudden _door-attack_, but my sacred backside thankfully never hit the floor because I was grabbed, just in time.

By Antonio.

…

B-by Antonio?

**xXx**

'Lovino! O-oh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? H-hey, are you okay?'

Antonio, who was clumsily holding my upper body in seriously the weirdest way you could probably imagine, looked at me with a panicky flicker in his eyes, his face pale and worried.

I stupidly stared up at him with eyes wide open, slowly letting my hands fall down.

'…A-Antonio?'

'Hi Lovi!~'

'Yeah, hi – I-I mean, w-what the hell are _you_ doing here, dammit!'

The Spaniard sighed and chuckled in relief and loosened his tight grip around me when he saw I was standing more steady on my feet again.

'Oh, thank _god_, you sound like you're just fine. I… o-oh, that looks kind of painful…'

'What looks painf— _ouch!_'

In a reflex, I swatted his annoying hand away from my forehead, biting my lip to avoid myself from introducing Antonio and the rest of the room to some new, just made-up cussing words.

But half-assed slaps and kicks from my side had never stopped Antonio from just continuing with whatever he was doing – and _now_ was no exception. So he ignored my hissing and growling and grabbed my face, turning it so that he could look at the warm, now throbbing wound in my forehead.

'Fuck fuck fuck ouch ouch ouch…' I whined in the meantime, under my breath, and tried to give that Spanish dope a kick in the balls, but he easily evaded the attack, that _dick_.

'Lovi!' he dismissively said, clacking his tongue, '… now's not the time to kick me in the chimes – you're _bleeding_!'

'Because of _you_, you jerk!' I snarled. 'Fuck, who in the world opens a door like _that_!'

Antonio nervously looked at the sleeping, but now stirring nations behind me.

'…y-you're being too loud, my love…'

I was too pissed to care.

'_Fuck _that! And fuck _you_!'

'Mhhhnnnmn…' I heard a slumbering somebody (Belgium, probably) murmur, irritated – and that was enough reason for Antonio to grab my wrist and pull me out of the room, into the hallway, carefully closing the door behind us as soon as the both of us were outside.

'H-hey!' I shrieked, struggling when the Spaniard then started dragging me with him through the hall, '…what are you doing! L-let go of me, I'm supposed to be in that room tomorrow morning!'

Antonio laughed softly, but didn't let go.

'I know, I know – I'm supposed to be on Room 1.60 tomorrow morning!'

'Then get your ass back at _your_ room and leave me at _my_ room, dammit!' I carried on my snapping while stumbling after him.

'Nope!~' he cheerfully said, still marching through the hallway in an _astonishing_ quick pace.

'Why not? Y-you planning to…' I swallowed and noticed my cheeks became warmer. '…t-to _elope_ with me to some small, cozy church… t-to marry in all secrecy… just the two of us…?'

Antonio stopped, right on the spot, and glanced at me, flushing and looking downright _baffled_.

'…o-oh _god_, Lovi, your overwhelmingly romantic imagination _really _knows no bounds, d-does it?'

'S-shut up.' I muttered, embarrassed. '…b-but _are _you?'

'… what? Planning to screw all of this and… and e-elope with you?'

'Y-yeah?' I nodded, staring at him, hoping, reddening some more.

The funny thing with Antonio was that he, for some reason, just never could look directly at me for too long without blushing his damn face off, no matter what the circumstances were. Especially when I was putting on a disgusting face like _this. _Hell, you should know how many discussions I've won when looking like _this_.

So maybe… maybe I could even _convince_ him to _indeed_ elope with me and have the wedding somewhere else this way. Very impulsive and selfish, I know. And I really think that would be too bad for Hungary and all those guests, and I wouldn't get married in the _Sagrada Familía_, b-but… but _still_…

Unfortunately, I instantly felt my chances of having a quiet little wedding rapidly slipping through my fingers when Antonio silently shook his head, his eyes shut tightly.

'…n-no, Lovino, you know we can't do that.'

'But…' I stubbornly kept trying.

'Lovi, _no_.'

Antonio sounded a lot more sure now and began to walk again, gently pulling me with him.

'I-I love you a lot, sweetie, and I'd immediately run away with you if that would make you happy, but it's _crazy_ – you probably realize that yourself as well, right?'

'…yeah…' I admitted.

I had stopped protesting in the meantime and obediently let myself lead, sighing.

'…yeah, you're right.'

'Hungary and all of our friends and loved ones and… well, random countries, have put way too much effort and love into our wedding preparations for us to pull off a stunt like that. They don't deserve a selfish treatment like that. And just imagine how much you'd hurt Feli!'

I spread my eyes in shock. Oh god, I had completely forgot about him…

'…t-that's true, he'd be so disappointed in me…'

'Right?~'

He smiled at me – then and halted for hotel room 1.55, searching for something in his pocket while he continued talking.

'…but don't you worry, Lovino: if you really want to have your quiet little wedding, we could always do that next year!'

'Next year?' I asked. 'Why next year?'

'…well, in celebration of our one-year wedding, we could… marry _again_, sweetie.'

'O-oh. Yes, I've heard of people doing that…'

'Then we can do that, too!~'

'…you promise?'

'_You_ promise?'

I chuckled, nodding.

'Y-yeah, I promise.'

'Then it's a promise!~ Now wait a minute, just where in the world have I put that… _ah_!'

Antonio suddenly pulled out a key out of his pocket, grinning.

'_There_ it is!'

I frowned as I watched him unlocking the door, but didn't ask him anything when he pushed the door open and gestured me to follow him into the room.

…

I _did _ask him something the minute the both of us were inside the room.

'So anyway, Antonio, not to be a nag or anything, but… what the _fuck_ are you up?'

'Nothing much.' Antonio said, yawning and gently pushing me over to the notably small bed standing in the room, '…just cleaning that wound of yours – and sorry again for banging that door against your face, sweetie – and sleeping, really. It's almost midnight, after all…'

'B-but aren't you supposed to…' I stammered weirdly, sitting down on the bed, '…I-I mean, this room… and you were having fun with your friends right now, so…'

Antonio chuckled, went to the attached bathroom and back to the bed, and shrugged.

'Naah, not really… Hanging out with Germany, Gilbert and Francis was a lot of fun, yes, but they were kind of distracting when I tried to finish my vows – except for Germany, he was working on his vows as well. So I'm glad they eventually just gave up and drunk themselves to sleep.'

'…_did_ they now.' I said, rolling my eyes.

'Yup. And then I fell asleep myself, too.'

Antonio had taken a wet cloth with him and carefully dabbed my forehead. I had to wince and claw at the mattress underneath me a bit when I felt the stinging pain shooting through my head again, but it wasn't as bad as I expected.

'Y-you _did_ manage to finish your vows, right?' I asked him, trying to sound as casual as possible.

'Of course.' The Spaniard nodded. 'And I hope you'll love them, Lovi…'

'I'm sure I will.' I allowed myself to smile at him.

He instantly smiled back, just as coyly.

'But you're probably wondering why I came to your room, right?'

'Yeah, but I already have a... vague idea why. Did it…' I hesitated, '…did it have anything to do with… Hungary?'

'How do you know?' He looked at me in surprise, putting away the moist cloth now that the wound was taken care of, '…yeah, actually, she woke me up just a little while ago, commanding me to get up and get my butt over to your room to make sure you'd get some shuteye tonight… and then gave me the key of _her _hotel room.'

I think my mouth fell open a bit.

'…she-she went in your place?'

'Yes. So that we could be alone. Sweet of her, right?~'

Antonio pressed a soft kiss somewhere next to the bruise on my forehead, _then_ placed another one on my lips, before he crawled into bed.

'She cares about you a lot, you know? Like Femke, she'd do anything for your wellbeing, my love.'

'So…' I turned myself around, licking my lips, '…so she's sleeping on your room now?'

'I guess so – ah, don't sit there, come here, sweetie…'

Antonio patted the narrow, empty spot next to him invitingly.

I blushed heavily and made a grumpy face for god knows why, after which I turned off the lights and fucking _hurled_ myself over to him as fast as I could.

'It's a bit strange, though…' Antonio mused while I settled myself next to him and pulled the covers over both him and me, '…how did Hungary know that _I _was the one sleeping on the bed (Gilbert and Francis were passed out on the floor, Germany on the sofa)? She hadn't switched on the lights… almost as if she had been on the room before…'

'D-does it really matter?' I said, feeling a bit guilty, '…she did a very good job of… _g-getting_ you for me, and that's good. Because I'd… probably have been awake all night if you hadn't showed up…'

'You should go to sleep then.' Antonio said – and snuggled against me, holding me in his arms, in the very small bed, as I shyly wrapped my arms around him as well.

'I'll-I'll just do that. Tomorrow's the day, after all…' I mumbled.

'Hmmm… you mean _today_.'

'…today?'

Antonio sighed delightedly – he already was halfway on his trip to dreamland, I guess.

'…it's been past midnight for a few minutes now, Lovi…'

'…oh god, _really_?' I asked.

He nuzzled my neck.

'Probably…'

'…oh.' I slowly breathed in and out again. '…o-okay…'

'…happy wedding day, Lovino.'

'Y-yeah, you, too…'

'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight…'

…

…

I-I couldn't wait…


	72. Down South

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Even though this quirky site sure made it difficult for us the last couple of days, with their login-system errors and all (I freaked out a bit several times and I'm still feeling very jumpy as I write this), you wonderful people still managed to give me **over** **3,000** **reviews**.  
_…_w-what can I say, really? I'm… amazed, really. And honored. And peppy. And maybe even a little bit teary-eyed. A-ahahahaha…_^^;;;  
_Thank you all so much. It makes me so happy to realize there are so many people out there, not even in my own country, who are willing to read the long, loooong ramblings of a cute, yet grumpy Italian, his hot, but naïve Spanish lover we'd all like to have as our own boyfriend/husband/neighbor, and the very strange nations that this silly couple is surrounded with, who all mean well, but fail in "meaning well" epically. _XDDDD  
_And that is the best summary there probably is for this fic.  
_…  
*waves at you like a hyperactive moron*  
8DDDDDD

_A/n2: Once again, the title name of this chapter was brought to you by the lovely miss __**bakagohome**__. You gave me a very good reason to use such a wonderful song of Kings of Leon again, dear!_^^ _Thanks, again!  
__Also, GET READY FOR THE GLOMP. _*tackles*

_A/n3: Get ready for some random info about humor worldwide I'm about to force down your throats – yaaay!~  
__Okay. So I read the following amusing article somewhere in my most favorite magazine – the _Quest_ – last Tuesday night (that's right, I actually read a magazine during my birthday party and it was wonderful):  
__Apparently, the **Irish**, **British**, **Australians** and **New-Zealanders** among us prefer humor with words. You know, literally puns (LOL) and the like.  
__(There probably is a way better word or term for this kind of humor, but I don't feel like looking it up right now – sorry, I'm feeling lazy and very having-my-period-ish).  
__**Americans** and **Canadians** presumably laugh the most at humor in which there is a victim to be ridiculed (although the article had to admit that most nations seem to laugh at that kind of humor since it's so recognizable all over the world).  
__And **Europe**, save for the UK and Ireland, mostly seems to enjoy jokes that are either very absurd and weird, or just downright **mean**, like jokes about diseases, death and awkward family relationships (and, in my own nation's case, about the "stupidness" of the Belgians and the "sternness" of the Germans).  
_…_and another nice funfact: **Germans** have **no** specific preference in humor, they think **all** kinds of humor are simply fantastic, or, roughly put, they laugh at **anything**.  
__That's right: Ludwig has the best sense of humor of all the nations, according to my (scientific, too!) magazine.  
__I HAD ALWAYS SUSPECTED IT.  
__But anyway… what do you think?  
__Was the article right about your nation's sense of humor? I'm curious!_^^

_A/n4: No ceremony yet.  
_…

_What the fuck is **wrong** with these **fingers**?_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXII:

_**Back Down South  
**__**(Kings of Leon)**_

When I woke up a few hours later, it still was dark/dusky/"well I could _use_ some light here dammit" in the hotel room.

And… I didn't know what time it was.

Nope. I didn't even know if it was morning yet, or…

…no, wait, I _did _know it was morning yet, I just didn't know if it was morning _enough _for me already to drag my ass _out_ of the bed and _in_to my questioning wedding suit – because seriously, I _swore_ that thing on the hanger started _staring _at me, staring at me the fucking _second_ I opened my eyes. I could literally _feel_ its… button-y gaze, poking me in the back:

_Put me on, Lovino! Put me on! It's your big day! It's you bi-iig day, man! You're getting married today! Getting married! Today! You! To a very hot and hunky Spaniard! Lying underneath you! Oh! Oh! You're probably so excited, Lovino! Oh, aren't you excited, Lovino! Isn't your heart beating with a tad more happiness in each and every thump now! Isn't your heart bursting out of your chest from happiness now! Isn't your heart happy now, Lovino! _

_Aren't YOU happy now, Lovino!_

…

Never knew an overactive imagination could be so damn loud, annoying and _Feliciano_ in the morning.

_Especially_ when realizing my suit was in Room 1.51, and _not _in _this _room, which was Room 1.55.

…

Minor detail. Don't dwell on it.

Anyway, as soon as I had opened my half-lidded, drowsy eyes a little bit more, I stared at Antonio's sleeping face, just a few… what, inches, centimeters… away from mine.

O-oh.

There he was.

…

It… it suddenly was getting a lot _less_ dark in the room.

I felt my hands slowly clenching themselves around the fabric of the soft, simple shirt he was wearing when I realized that… that _this _very day… would be the last day I would wake up with him…

…as an unmarried person.

T-tomorrow morning, I'd wake up as a married person, w-with _another_ married person, like I had… _instantly_ decided to have an affair with another married man the minute I got married, but with one small difference, and that would be that this married man I'd wake up with would be _my _married man.

My…

…m-my _husband_.

…

…

…f-fuck, now why was my mouth bending like that again…

Why… w-why was I having this… this crazy desire to just… j-just… over-excitedly wrap my arms around him, let my hands wander underneath his shirt, let my fingers curiously touch and feel and _cherish_ the warmth of his skin, the curves of his back, the damaged traces of his past… all there, all on his back…

A-and why…

…why did I want to push my face and that insane _smile_ that was stuck on it against his blissfully familiar chest and nuzzle him, nuzzle and cuddle him, and chuckle and hug him, and make silly little happy-noises as I'd show him, in my own… _unique_ ways, just what… _physical _reactions his whole being ignited in me, just what feelings, what emotions, what immense _love _I felt whenever I was being with him like this…

…

I-I could show him…

I cautiously looked at his face again, what was even more visible and admirable now because of the rising sun shining its light on it, and thought about my silly idea.

Thought about just… just _doing_ everything I had just mentally described I could do.

I mean…

…A-Antonio would _love _it.

My smile grew even more and I blushed, carefully brushing some loose, bouncy curls out of his face.

O-oh, yes… he _would_.

Yeah, he would probably… be surprised at first, "ohh, Lovi, what are you doing, you're being so sweet and lovable all of a sudden", blahblahblah, yes, sure, but then… _then_…

Then he would react just as enthusiastically as me, flinging his arms and legs around me while laughing and pressing sweet little kisses on my face, rolling weirdly over the bed sheets with me and telling me how great I was, how happy he was to have me, how wonderful it was to wake up like this, with me, and then he would kiss me again, but a bit more seriously now, on the lips.

The lips the lips the lips.

And again. And again. Again again.

Kiss me until I hadn't got any clue anymore about what was good and what was _better_, kiss me until I sighed, moaned and smiled at the same time, kiss me until I felt like melting, or exploding, or just laughing really, really hard and happily without having a fucking care in the world…

…

G-good _god, _that sounded nice.

I wanted that.

Oh _fuck_, how much I wanted to do something like that.

No matter how stupid and faggish it could sound to others, _I_ _**wanted**_ _it_.

Do all the really embarrassing hugging and blushing and cuddling and stuff.

Yes. I would love it. He would love it. _We _would love it.

…

So I…

Oh fuck, what the hell, was the fuck was I even waiting for, I would do it.

In fact, I-I was going to do it _right now_.

Y-yes…

Oh god, yes…

I took in a deep, already shuddering breath, closed my eyes again, silently prepared myself for a minute, just to be sure I'd be brave enough to recklessly _throw_ my arms around the fantastic softness underneath my affection-begging body, and then I _**fucking went for it**_!

And I…!

…

And I…

…

…aaand I ended up hugging/semi-molesting the ever-loving _crap _out of my pillow.

**xXx**

…

…my pillow?

…n-not my…

…A-Antonio?

…

…

Wait…

I hesitantly opened my eyes again – first one, then the other.

It wasn't all that dusky in the hotel room anymore.

Hell, forget about "wasn't all that dusky" – it was just fucking _light_ in here!

Huh?

But… but how…

…oh.

_Oh_.

A dream. All of that was... a _dream._

It took me a few minutes to let it all come through the thick, sleepy, disappointment-oozing fog drifting around in my head, but eventually, I sat up a bit more in bed, glared _spitefully _at the pillow I had been sleeping on that was supposed to be Antonio (_damn _you, pillow), and finally, I just…

…scratched my head, looking around the room confusedly.

Well. This still was Hungary's hotel room (judging from the very narrow bed I sat in), so… I had really slept _here_.

And if I had actually _**slept**_ here, Antonio must have been here as well.

…

But where was he _now_?

I frowned and yawned, stretching out – and pausing mid-stretch (_really_ unpleasant feeling, certainly when you're frowning and yawning at the same time you're stretching) when I noticed a little note on the nightstand addressed to me.

And… and I could tell it was from Antonio, because of that long, curly L.

Nobody else wrote Lovino that way. Not with _that _L.

I stared at it for a bit, before crawling on my knees towards the nightstand – good thing it stood really close to the bed – and snatched the note off it.

Now what did it say…

…

"_Hi Lovino!~_

_Have you slept well, my love? I think you did, because you snored very cutely last night and didn't even wake up when you rammed your fist against my jaw and send me flying out of bed!~"_

'…what?' I muttered softly, blinking while reading that last sentence again.

I punched him in the _jaw_? While _sleeping_? And dreaming a very tender and sentimental dream?

…

I groaned. Fuck, if my _mind_ isn't denying my intense need for his love and affection, then my _body _is. The hell's _wrong_ with me, dammit!

The note continued:

"_I fell down pretty badly, Lovino, and I accidentally cut my face open when it slid over the rough carpet, but it only bled for about ten minutes and then everything was okay again!~ Good thing the carpet's brown, huh!~"_

'You're a fucking moron.' I snorted at the letter, but smiled – and worried myself about his face – a bit anyway, because I could practically hear him say every word to me with that upbeat, lively voice of his.

"_I hope you're not mad at me for leaving you this soon (it's five o'clock when I write this so I hope you can read all of this because it was kind of hard to write in the moonlight, especially when it's cloudy, and I didn't want to turn on the lights because I was afraid I might wake you up and you're sleeping so adorably now, aww, you're even smiling!~)… It's just that we're not really supposed to see each other today before it's "time" to do so, so I'm going back to my own room. I hope Hungary hasn't taken the bed."_

I bet she had.

"_The wound on your head still looked kind of gross, by the way, so I put a band aid on it."_

Oh?

I automatically raised my hand to touch my forehead. There indeed was something stuck to it – and yes, it felt like a band aid.

…

…not that I was an _expert_ on the fine and delicate structure of band aids and how to recognize them, but still. Pretty sure about this one.

"_You look very cute with that band aid, you know?~ Very cute! And handsome, too, but you're always handsome. Maybe you even look too handsome. For me, I mean. I can't stand it, stupidly looking at your pretty face like this without kissing it. But I can't kiss you, because you'll wake up. And you're not supposed to do that yet. But still, it's just kind of hard to control myself and keep me from kissing your lips like… like… I don't know, just kissing you a **lot**, I guess, but I won't, no, I won't, and I promise you all the hickeys on your neck can be easily hidden underneath your blouse."_

'…h-hickeys…'

My cheeks flushed hard as my hand lowered itself, traveling down to my neck, until it indeed traced over some painful, bruised marks I hadn't really felt yet – up to this point, that is.

I…

I-I can't believe t-that fucking bastard had left frustrated _lovebites_ on me while I was sleeping.

I mean, what the fuck was that moron thinking? "Ohhh, kissing him on the lips will wake him up, but _passionately sucking his neck till it becomes red and bruised_ surely won't!~"

…

…alright, I indeed hadn't wake up, so his theory wasn't a complete waste of thought and time, b-but I…

…

…I-I wish I had been awake, dammit, then he _could_ have kissed me on the lips.

…a-and oh, whatever, he still could have kissed me in the neck afterwards, for all I cared. Why not. If he was going to do it, he'd better do it _right_, dammit…

…

N-no, focus, Lovino, focus, just those last few sentences and you're done.

Okay…

"_Anyway, I'm off now, sweetie. _

_I can't wait to see you in the church, my handsome, lovely Lovi…_

_Let's make this day the best day of our lives, okay? _:-)

_Your Antonio~"_

…

…ch-cheesy fucker…

L-leaving me a sweet and gushy letter like this and making me want to e-execute my wussy huggle-plan from earlier even _more_, dammit…

I looked at the letter for a couple more seconds, the tops of my fingers following the black ink of Antonio's hasty, but still beautiful handwriting.

Good thing his handwriting was so easy to read.

Now let's hope so was mine.

…

Ah…

I sighed and carefully folded Antonio's note, giving the piece of paper a quick, stubborn kiss before putting it away…

…and before noticing the loud, panicky ruckus that was going on just outside the room.

I frowned and tilted my head.

What, was it _that_ late already? Late enough for the other hotel guests to act like monkeys in the hallway?

I tilted my head just a little bit more, so I could see what the time was on the big clock on the wall.

11.56 AM.

Hmm… 11.56 AM… and the wedding ceremony would start at 01.00 PM…

…

…

Oh SHIT!

**xXx**

With an immediately paled face, I _stormed_ off the bed, to the door, and _yanked_ it open so violently and carelessly that I almost got _another_ blow to the head.

But I _dodged _it!

_Ha_!

Too bad my littlest toe was hit instead.

…

_**YOUCH**_!

I hurt _terribly_ of course, but I didn't had time to jump up and down or yelp in pain or curse the entire hotel or kick the door or _**smash that damned minion of Satan off the doorpost and out of the fucking window **_because I was abruptly grabbed by the collar by a slender, light-blue-gloved, feminine hand, and dragged along.

Almost like a hit-and-run kind of thing, with the exception of the victim being instantly _abducted_ by the hit-and-runner in this case. Not sure how many times a day _that_ happened in life, but I don't believe it wasn't very _common_.

Naturally, I wanted to vocalize my exact thoughts and feelings about this whole fucked-up situation, but vocalizing stuff like that is very hard to do when you're awkwardly hopping behind a resolute and massive wandering blue _cloud._

And it's even harder to do when there were lots of familiar nations sprinting from one room to the other around you, crisscross through the hallway, wearing neat dresses and/or suits, or parts of neat dresses and/or suits, all while shouting commands and questions towards each other.

'Japan! Have you seen my shoes?'

'No. But have you seen mine?'

'Hahahahaha! This isn't my hotel! Hahahaha!'

'Hey hey HEY! That's France's bow you're wearing, Prussia!'

'Somebody tie my **awesome**ness-sparkling bow! SOMEBODY! QUICKLY, BEFORE SHE CATCHES ME!'

'Veee!~ Running thought the halls, running through the halls!~'

'I have no idea what I'm doing but I think it requires a shitload of nicotine.'

'Ah… n-now where did I put Romano's ring…'

…I honestly don't know _who_ I saw or heard (although I had a vague idea…), everything went so damn fast…

But I _did_ remember seeing lots of flashes of black, white and blue, and hints of red-faced, nervous-looking nations, right before the person, that was still determinedly pulling me after her, all of a sudden stayed put, right as we reached a certain door.

In one calm, solemn movement, the (still not recognizable) woman opened the door with a firm push against its woody surface, _launched _me into the room, grabbed her cell phone, adjusted her dress for a second and then went into the room as well.

'Lizzie? Fem-Fem here. I have great news!~ Operation "Pick up Romano And Get Him To Our Room As Soon As Possible Before That Tardy Jerk Ruins Our Perfect Schedule" has been successfully completed!~ Now I'm going to stare him into oblivion while talking to you. Isn't that nice!~'

I shoved a cushion out of my face, looked up from the sofa in which I had been ruthlessly _dumped_ and shot some very annoyed and evil glares at the blonde, very beautifully dressed woman (aha! So the kidnapper was revealed to be _Brutal_ _Belgium_!) – but I instantly stopped glaring at her when her big, _angry_ eyes stared at me so intensely, I was scared I was going to dissolve on the _spot _if I had the guts to keep on scowling.

So instead of doing _that_, I reluctantly cleared my throat (carefully, not too loudly) and sat down on that same sofa, waiting for Belgium to finish her chat with – presumably – Hungary.

…and I also took this opportunity to casually pull up my stretched-out pajama-pants a bit (I _really_ need to buy some new freaking PJ's already), before they'd slide off my butt and I'd _foolishly _expose myself to the Belgian puma wandering around the room.

'Okay, I'll see you in a second then.' that puma suddenly ended the conversation and "closed" her phone with a sharp _snap_, after which she immediately turned her head my way even _more_, narrowing her eyes.

I wondered why she did that.

…

Maybe she was mad at me for weirdly yanking on the elastics of my cheap pajama-pants this entire time ("The _nerve_, Romano! Playing with your cheap pajama-pants like that in my female presence! That's _it_, mister! To the naughty-chair with you – unless you prefer some severe _preaching_!"), but, let's face it, it wasn't impossible there could be _another_ reason for her eyes to fire killer-beams my way.

…

Not sure if it was a good or very healthy thing to do, but I decided to just wait and hope for the best.

And thankfully, I didn't have to wait for long, because before I knew it, the door of the hotel room was being busted open again – and a half-dressed Feliciano was kicked in the room, together with a shoeless Japan, followed by a very irritated-looking Hungary, who was currently looking like an attractive, but undoubtedly _evil_ twin of Belle from _Beauty and the Beast._

Still, I admitted right away that yellow really was a very flattering color on Hungary's shape of body and that she, just like Belgium, looked very beautiful.

Both were dressed up really prettily, wearing a gorgeous, elegant blue dress with cute ribbons and frills – Belgium – and an _outrageous,_ but very fitting (personality-wise) yellow, puffy dress that seemed to fill at least half on the room – Hungary – and they also wore soft, tasteful hints of make-up on their unsettling smooth, delicate faces.

…

Still saw the throbbing vein on their foreheads, though.

'Okay…'

Hungary panted, still trying to catch her breath as she smoothed the slight ripples in her exploded dress and gave Belgium a reassuring nod.

'…okay, nobody panic, nobody move, nobody say or do something – awfully chaotic morning or not, we are, miraculously enough, still on schedule.'

'Veee… that's great news, Big Sis Hungary!~'

Feliciano, who had _crashed _into the sofa as well, cheered and applauded excitedly.

I blinked and nudged him.

'What the hell is she talking about? What schedule? What's going to happen?'

My brother beamed a small, nervous smile at me.

'Veee, I have _no_ idea, Lovi. But I think we'll live longer if we just play along and smile a lot, because Big Sis Hungary said she has arranged some painful earlobe yanking sessions for us if we don't behave!~'

I frowned and glared at him some more.

Feliciano noticed – and cocked his head.

'Veee… I know you're trying _hard_, Lovi, but that's not _smiling_, big brother. Maybe you should practice more often!'

'It's shocking how well you know me.' I dryly remarked.

Then, all of a sudden, a suspicious grin popped up on my brother's face.

'But _hey_, maybe standing on your head will trick Big Sis Hungary into believing you're laughing! We'll just _flip_ that grumpy curve of your lips over!~ Veee… I'll just hide your eyes with your weird and stretchable PJ's and make eyes out of those Spanish hickeys in your neck and _tadaaah_~, everything'll be a-okay!~'

I winced. 'You… just _had_ to point out I have hickeys, didn't you?'

'Yup. Because there right _there_, staring at me.'

'Great.'

'They really _are_ great, yes! Very impressive! Some of them are even shaped like _hearts_, Lovi!'

Involuntarily, I felt my face warming up.

'…h-hearts, Feliciano?'

'Yeah! Big, bloody, badly-drawn… **poop-colored** hearts!~'

'…'

'Since the marks are more brownish than that they are reddish!~'

'…'

'Therefore, **poopy hearts**, Lovi!'

'Shut up.'

'**Poopy hearts **of_**LOVE**__!~_'

'Okay – _one_ more poopy word and I'll fucking punch your lights out.'

'…aw, alright…'

'_Thank_ you.'

'…'

'…'

'…hey hey, Lovi?'

'…_what_?'

'…poo…~'

'_**Don't**_.'

'Pooooooo…~'

'I'm warning you, you little _fuck_…'

'_**Poopy poopy poopy poop**_—'

'That's it, YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD MEAT!'

My slightly younger brother, who was obviously teasing me and evading my fierce fists and cushion attacks while giggling and uttering whiny "_nooooo_!"'s, was about to take cover for a massive kick from my side that I had planned to land _flat_ in his annoying mug…

…when Hungary and Belgium's **ice-cold, piercing, "your ears are **_**so**_** fucked now" **–eyes had finally dug their way into my and Feliciano's backs deep enough to let us freeze in our movements, look at them very fearfully, and yelp a small cry for mercy when the two ladies slowly stomped towards us, rolling up their sleeves – if they had any.

…w-which was ridiculous, really, I _shouldn't_ be scared of them, because I was a grown-up and wouldn't _let_ myself get _yanked_ and because…

…be-because _no_ _way_ two carefully dressed-up, young women like Hungary and Belgiumwere going to pull our earlobes like two very pissed off old hags, just because we were being annoying and ignoring them again!

Right?

…r-_right_?

**xXx**

Five minutes later (and a red, _glowing_ earlobe _richer_), Feliciano and I…

…well, we knew _better_.

'All _right_!~ That was _lovely_!~' Belgium said in a sunny voice while she and Hungary rolled down their sleeves again and corrected their slightly-twisted gloves back in their original state again, acting like they hadn't jerked the _crap_ out of me and my brother's sensitive parts (which sounds kind of wrong, but oh well, _suck it up_).

'Punishing both Italies really was lovely, yes!~ Great stress-reducer, too!' Hungary fully agreed with her Belgian Partner in Perv…

…and then she turned to me and Feliciano.

'…soooo… do Fem-Fem and I have your full attention _now_, dears?~ _Do_ we, Veni?'

'V-veee… ' Feliciano bitterly sobbed (fucking drama fag), nodding.

'Roma?' Hungary insisted, looking my way.

Screw wishful thinking – with a _thumping_ ear, I sure as fuck was a lot _less_ eager to nod and I looked back at the smirking women angrily, snorting.

'Did you two really _pulled our ears _just now? Like some SM-bitch would? Holy crap, do you have _any_ idea how fucking _disturbing _that was? Or _sounded_? Do you—'

Hungary instantly groaned and made quick, cutting gestures with her arms as she, indeed, cut me off.

'Oh my _god_, Romano, spare us the rambling speech about what's good and what's bad, you _latecomer_. Heck, you and your _lateness_ actually don't even have the right to speak about good or evil! But that's for later to discuss. Right now, we have much more important stuff to do – like following my instructions very carefully and getting things _**done**_.'

Belgium nodded, looking just as resolute as her Hungarian friend.

'That's right, you two should be _very_ aware of the schedule we're trying to follow here. Thanks to Roma, we're starting to fall behind, but nothing's lost yet: you just need to get dressed up, you need to get a quick shave, some perfume, maybe some rouge along the jaw line…'

'_Oh_! Fem-Fem – that sounds _wonderful_…' Hungary said with a blissful sigh.

'Like _hell_ it does! More like fucking _creepy_!' I huffed, '…I'm a _man_, for fuck's sake, not some creepy, long-eyelashed _doll_ you can fuck around with!'

'You sure use the word "fuck" a lot, big brother. Are you… frustrated? Aww, that sucks…' Feliciano mused, cautiously covering his hand over his now slightly bigger ear, '…veee… I guess Big Brother-In-Law Toni's performance was kind of disappointing last night, huh…'

'Not as disappointing as your FACE!' I _incredibly_ maturely countered.

My brother pouted furiously – yeah, just leave it to Feliciano to pout _furiously _– and wanted to snarl something back at me…

…buuuut Belgium saw that as her cue to grab the skirt of her dress, _sprint _our way, _capture_ my still painful left and Feliciano's still awful right earlobe between her pointy fingers and _**pull them again**_.

'_**OW**_!'

'**VEEEE**_**OUCH**_!'

Belgium just smiled, like every other torturer would in her position.

'Please continue your swift explanation about what's going to happen the next hour, Lizzie!~ They're _all ears_!'

…

…

…oh _man_, not sure I cringed because of those fingers tugging on my ear or because of that incredibly lousy pun.

**xXx**

But anyway…

Hungary's swift explanation didn't disappoint: it really was very swiftly told, and shortly after her instructions, Feliciano and I indeed knew what _had_ happened and what _was_ happening.

Also, we were very happy to still be alive.

…

…okay, maybe some more information is needed on this one.

**XxX**

First stop: what _**had**_ happened, before my brother and I were thrown back into Room 1.51:

Antonio, Feliciano, Germany and all of our respectable best (wo)men had been shouted out of their comfy sleep at least _two_ _hours_ ago, which meant that while I was having gay dreams in Rainbow Heaven, everybody else had been in a total _wedding frenzy_.

According to Hungary, she hesitated about waking me up with the rest ("it was important you got up, but _oh_, _you slept so very __**cutesy**__!~_", and after Antonio had actually begged her on his bare knees to let me have some more sleep, she promised him to let me have some more sleep – and then she immediately ran to the nearest bathroom to dap her nosebleed, because "you don't see a naked Spaniard kneeling for you every day, Roma!~".

…

Yes, I _could_ have given her a very sarcastic and suggestive remark on that somewhere along the lines of "well, _**you **_don't", but I didn't, because it was too easy and because Belgium still held my ears in a headlock. Earlock. Whatever – it any case, it _hurt _and it wasn't doing my ear any good.

So anyway, the fucking second Antonio and Germany had been successfully _nagged_ into their suits and stuff, they had to get their asses to the church _first_, _before _Feliciano and I would follow, so just a few minutes before I staggered out of the room, they were taken away by some way more helpful hotel-workers while their best men still hopped around in the hallway, suffering from headaches, hangovers, lost shoes and, apparently, lost goddamn _rings._

And Feliciano, in a very rare and extraordinary bright moment, _instantly_ thought that this was _the_ opportunity to humbly exit Room 1.51, only wearing some boxers, a fluttering blouse and an irresponsible small brain, and ran up and down the hall a couple of times like the incomprehensible nutcase he was.

…

And then Belgium caught me, and Hungary caught Feliciano and Japan (and shouted at the flailing Prussia, France, _America_ – please don't ask, nobody knew what in the world that douche was doing here – and Netherlands to "get going already"), and shortly after that, we were being dragged to this room and here we are.

Next stop – what _**was **_happening right now.

Well…

…

…things. I can tell you _that_ much.

On Hungary's mark, Feliciano and I were undressed (read: clothes were murderously ripped off our bodies) and dressed up again by the two raging and perhaps a _tad_ too enthusiastic women.

And right after the both of us were safely installed and tied up into our suits and shoes, Hungary's fingers were itching to style Feliciano into some drop-dead Italian heartbreaker, and Belgium said she had the same ambitions with her styling of _me_, but the problem was that there was just _one_ bathroom with _one _mirror.

Luckily, the girls democratically solved this awful dilemma by grabbing me or Feliciano by the arm and making an _insane_ _dash_ for the bathroom, which Belgium actually _won_.

…

And that's why she was currently, with a triumphant grin on her face that just wouldn't fall off, adjusting buttons and ties of my black suit just a little bit better.

'Now, this might sound a bit strange and odd in your ears, Romano – wait, hold still...'

Belgium frowned, grabbed my chin, pulled my face close and checked every millimeter on it for possible stubbles, zits or other thorns in the eye with a _very_ scary pair of tweezers in her other hand, that, thankfully, weren't needed.

'…nope, you're looking fine, sweetie!' she reassured me with a wink, sticking the tweezers back in her amazing, pocket-containing dress, '…ah, where was I… oh, yes! As I was saying, this might sound a bit strange and odd, but please don't freak out too much after you've made your entrance in the _Sagrada Familía_, Romano.'

Naturally, I stared at her in blind, _sudden_ panic.

'Oh _god_, _**what the fuck has happened**_? What? Tell me! Did manic homophobes get the news? Are they blocking the way? Are they keeping Antonio hostage? Did America do too many horrible sound checks? Did the church collapse under the pressure? Did it run away? Oh my god, it actually _ran_ _away_, didn't it?'

'Romano…'

'Put on the television! Put on the radio! Put everything on and listen for clues about a church rampaging around town!'

'Romano, calm down! It's nothing like that, you silly little neurotic sourpuss!~' Belgium chuckled, playfully pinching my nose.

I cynically raised one of my eyebrows and rubbed my nose, but calmed down a bit when I saw Belgium meant it, and breathed out carefully.

'…t-then _what_, Belgium? Why should you tell me not to freak out?'

'Well, the church has become very beautiful. For your wedding. Decoration-wise.'

…

O-_oh_.

I now relaxed completely.

'…it… it looks pretty?'

Belgium smiled broadly and nodded, stepping back to look at me.

'…yes, it has become _really_ beautiful!~ Not as beautiful as _you_ are right now, of course, since you really _work _that suit, but still – it has become very impressively decorated indeed! You would be amazed what a few wonderful vacuum cleaners and _teamwork_ between all the nations of Europe and some other handy countries can accomplish!~'

'Oh, I _would_.' I rolled my eyes.

'Everybody…'

Belgium paused for a second, stepping back in front of me again to brush some loose strands of hair out of my face.

'…everybody's really excited for your weddings, Romano. I'm sure you'll notice when you enter the church.'

I frowned.

'But why's _that_?'

'Hm?' Belgium looked up.

'Why _would_ they be excited?' I made a grumpy face. 'It's not like _they_ are getting married, and it's _certainly_ not like they have a lot of reasons to be excited for us, so why…'

The blonde woman blinked her eyes like she had never heard anything _that_ stupid coming out of my mouth before.

'Because they _like_ you, Romano.'

'Wh-what?' I stammered.

'They like you.' Belgium firmly repeated. 'Crisis or no crisis, they all _like_ you, and _Antonie_, and Veneciano, and Germany, and they all want nothing but the best for the four of you.'

I gave her a blank, bewildered, and somewhat… _touched_ look.

'…you… really think so?'

'Romano, don't be do depressingly surprised about that, sweetie!~' she laughed, patting the side of my face like a…

…

…l-like a big sister, or even _mother_ would, when trying to cheer up her younger brother/son.

'Over the past few weeks, sweetie, you've definitely seen and visited a lot of countries, didn't you? Did any of those countries _ever _leave you unimpressed? Did anybody ever tell you to go away, tell you to bother somebody else with your stupid request, tell you to stay in your own nation already?' Belgium continued, her thumb gently tracing over my cheek.

'N-no, nobody did.' I admitted in a soft voice.

She smiled some more.

'They all wanted to help you, right? They all wanted to be of use. They all did their very best to do something for their fellow nation South Italy. And it doesn't even only count for the nations you personally visited – you saw for yourself that _all_ the nations you invited were more than happy to help you out.'

'Strange…' I muttered.

'No, not strange at all!~' Belgium giggled, shaking her head. '…you're a _nation_, Roma! You're one of us! You're part of this huge, dysfunctional family we call Europe – no, we call the _world_! And marriage is in every family a very joyous happening, right?'

I nodded, smiling weakly.

'Then why wouldn't _yours_ be a joyous one in _this_ family, Romano?'

I shrugged, still smiling – but a bit less weakly now.

'_Exactly_.'

Belgium stood on the tip of her toes, patting my head with a satisfied grin.

'Good boy. Now go check your hot self in the mirror so that your Big Sis can feel very proud about herself for delivering this epic speech to her little brother in rest and peace.'

'…what?'

'Just turn around, Roma.'

Without giving me any more explanation, Belgium placed her hands on my hips and _twisted _them, making me turn around and look at myself in the large, beautiful mirror on the wall.

And I saw a very neatly, sophisticated-dressed man staring back at me, his face a bit flustered, but his overall appearance downright…

…

Well, _handsome_.

I looked handsome.

Smooth, slick, cunning… those trivial words all just didn't seem to make a lot of sense, compared to the general reaction I got out of myself (and apparently Belgium, too,) when looking at myself:

_Handsome_.

Yeah.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Just handsome.

Just Lovino.

Just _right_.

I watched myself just a little bit longer, before my gaze automatically wandered off to the blonde, petite woman standing next to me.

That silly, flaky Belgian woman, usually standing on the background, that had done more amazing, selfless things for me than she'd ever know or be willing to admit.

I breathed in deeply.

'Thank you.'

'Hm?' Belgium, who seemingly had drifted off for a moment again, quickly raised her head again to look at me.

'I said _thank_ _you_, Femke. Thank you. For that sisterly yank on my ear and that motherly pat on my head. And for… for all the things that I don't need to say out loud.'

I chuckled a bit at her perplexed reflection, in which I saw her eyes were getting bigger and her cheeks redder.

'Y-yeah!…'

She instantly stuttered, looking embarrassed, yes, but especially…

_Delighted_.

'…y-you're very welcome, L-Lovino!…'

…

…f-fuck, wh-why did I always had to go for the most unpractical moments to get wet eyes, d-dammit…

**xXx**

Soon after my and Femke's heartfelt moment of mutual respect and all that other wussy crap I don't want to talk let alone think about, we exchanged some last dopey smiles before we quickly got out of the bathroom, just in time to see Hungary put the final touches on Feliciano's white vest:

A SPARKLING PINK corsage.

…

Of course.

'And… you're _done_.' Hungary ceremoniously said, nodding contently as she walked backwards a bit to admire her crafty _handiwork_.

Feliciano stayed surprisingly composed in this dreadful situation and let her stare away for a minute, but quickly walked over to the bathroom when he saw Femke and I had gotten out of it, barely able to contain his excitement.

'VEEE!' his _gaspy_ exclamation echoed through the bathroom a second later, 'Oh WOW! I'm a STUD!~'

'_Yes_ you are!~' Hungary tittered, _abruptly_ grabbing me by my vest to _stab _it with an identical corsage as well as soon as she spotted me, '…oh Veni, you and Romano are so handsome right now, you both actually look a bit like the fantasy-versions of you that come visit me at night every once in a while!~'

'Too much information.' I immediately said, shuddering.

She smirked. 'Ohhh?~ If you think _that's_ too much information, you ain't heard nothing yet, dear…~'

'Yes, and I'm very thankful for destiny, God or whoever who might be behind it that I haven't. Let's try and _keep_ _it_ that way, okay?'

'No promises.'

'YES PROMISES.'

'Anyway, we have no time for this!' Hungary quickly jumped to another subject after glancing to the clock on the wall, '...I mean, just _look_ at the time! We're not in such a luxury position to talk about the weather like this!'

'We WEREN'T talking about the damn WEATHER and you KNOW IT.'

'Oh _shush_, Romano – just go to the toilet one more time and fetch your brother, we'll meet you outside the hotel. Fem-Fem, you coming? We need to get the carriage ready!~'

'The _what_?' I asked, alarmed.

'The _carriage_, Roma, the _carriage_!~' Hungary said again, like repeating the word twice explained _everything_, '…oh, but that's for later. Just come along now, Fem-Fem!'

'Sure Lizzie!~' Femke said, '…just one more thing.'

'What?'

'Shouldn't we take Japan with us?'

Hungary nodded thoughtfully and looked to the side, where Japan was sitting, on the ground, doing pretty much… nothing. Like a _**ninja**_.

Then an intriguing dialogue unfolded.

'Mr. Kiku?'

'Yes, Hungary-san?'

'You've… been in here for long?'

'Yes. You dragged me in, together with Italy.'

'Really now.'

'Yes.'

'How come I never heard or even saw you up to this point?'

'I was quietly looking for my shoes, Hungary-san.'

'All this time?'

'Yes.'

'…'

'…'

'Well… did you found them?'

'I just did.'

'Okay.'

'…'

'…'

'Here's a wild thought: could you put them on?'

'I could.'

'Please do.'

'…done.'

'Wonderful. And… would you do a favor for me? Please try to… stand out a bit more, next time. You kind of creep me out when you sit there and say nothing like that.'

'I'll make a mental note of that.'

The sacred ways of a ninja are _undisputed_, I wanted to say, but I held the comment for myself and tried not to snicker.

'Okay then!~ Well, if that's settled…'

Hungary turned back to me, hooked her arm into Femke's, peeled Japan off the floor and kicked open the door – yes, all _at once_.

'So! I expect you and your brother to be standing in front of the hotel in less than 5 minutes, Romano! Be late and we'll tear off your ears!~'

I answered her by paling, and that was answer enough for her.

'Right! _Onwards_, my friends! _To the carriage_!'

And with a last short, loud laugh, Hungary and the best (wo)men ran out of Room 1.51.

…

And not even a minute later, Feliciano and I left the room as well.

…

Yeah, neither of us needed to go to the toilet, really, so they might as well could have waited for us.

But apparently, Hungary had wanted some more time to get some damn carriage ready – hence the stupid "go-use-the-toilet-you-nervous-boys-you~" -command.

…

…

Yes.

I expected carriage-shaped disasters coming my way.

**XxX**

Fortunately for Hungary, Feliciano suddenly realized he _did _had to go to the toilet, , when we were almost in the lobby ("Oopsy-woopsy!~ Sorry Lovi!"), so that granted her at least three more minutes before both me and Feliciano said goodbye to the hotel workers (I-I even added "see you later today") and walked outside…

…where a humongous, big-wheeled, _white-and-pink ribbon-ed __**monster**_ that was supposed to be a fucking _carriage _was patiently waiting for us.

Apparently, it had _eaten_ Hungary and the others alive, because they were sitting inside the **beastly **thing, laughing and waving at us with frilly handkerchiefs ("Just like the _movies_!~" Feliciano had gasped).

'Come on in, boys!~' Hungary chanted through the non-existent windows of the nightmare on wheels, '…come inside the _**gay**_ _**love-vehicle**_! And let it take you to your next destination and step-in-life: _**marriage**_!'

…

I actually_ stepped in_, too (just wanted to _get this shit over with_, really), but…

…

…

…tell me, _why _didn't I just elope with Antonio again?


	73. Posterior

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**The site is doing very, very strange again. So... I hope you can see this...**

_A/n1: Prince Friso, a younger brother of our King-to-be Willem-Alexander, has had a horrible accident in Austria last week. He was buried under a shitload of snow when he caused an avalanche that hit him alone (just how much bad luck can you have?) and it took rescue-workers at least 20 minutes to dig him out. As I'm writing this, his life's in grave danger. He's in a coma and he might never wake up again.__  
__Now, I don't know the guy that well. I only know that he caused quite a scandal in the Netherlands by marrying a woman that was the lover of a Dutch criminal once – he was threatened by his Royal family that he wouldn't have any rights on the throne anymore because of that if he'd insist on wedding her, but he probably though "_**_fuck that_**_" and he still married the love of his life.__  
__That takes some _**_guts_**_.__  
__And like the rest of the people here (and in Austria), I pray he'll make it. But I heavily, heavily doubt it. But still. The world needs more men with epic principles like that…__  
_…_and his two very young daughters need their father.__  
_:-(

_A/n2: And in other news… um, well, it had been carnaval here for the past few days. I think I told you about it before: during carnaval, people here (especially Brabanders and Limburgers) dress themselves up like… well, whatever, and go party.__  
__Then they drink lots and lots of been, cheat on their girl/boyfriends and have headaches that last for weeks. Huzzah - I mean, "alaaf" indeed!__  
__I'm a Brabander – I live in the part of the Netherlands where carnaval is celebrated. But ever since getting an adult, I skip every years feast, because I don't like it as much as I used to like it._^^;;; _Maybe I'm getting boring, who knows.__  
__My mom, dad and oldest brother _**_never_**_ skip carnaval, though.__  
__This year, they went to the part dresses as a police officer (mom), a pirate (dad) and as a muscled, buff, vain 21-year-old (brother H., since he thinks it's not necessary to dress yourself at a celebration that requires dressing yourself).__  
__Meanwhile, brother O. and I stayed at home and watched _Friends_.__  
__Best. Carnaval. Ever. _

_A/n3: Okay, don't hate me for this, but _**_I'm going to update an extremely small chapter next week_**_.__  
__I'm too far behind with my schoolwork and I really need to do those all-nighters, or else I'll be in serious trouble.__  
__Now, I understand that this is a very bad timing. I also understand that lots of readers will be annoyed with this. But…__  
_…_well, I really have to do something more now. Especially now that my motivation to do stuff for school has been rapidly going down the drain for the past months (because it turns out there aren't a lot jobs for beginning pedagogues and because I'd much, MUCH rather be a writer).__  
__I mean, I've been putting off so many things for school, it's depressing me.__  
__So yeah. I really NEED those all nighters. And that means the next chapter won't be as big as you'd expect of me. Maybe it'll be very very VERY small, even.__  
__Sorry, guys. _

_A/n4: ANYWAY. Wedding ceremony. Yes.__  
__IT'S HERE.__  
__A PART OF IT.__  
__IT'S HERE AT LAST.__  
_8DDDDDD  
_WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS MY FEELINGS RIGHT NOW~_

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXIII:

**_Posterior Nosebleed_**_**  
**_**_(Lyme Disease)_**

And so, I sat in the Fag Mobile.

…

Yes, I sat in the Fag Mobile, **_hating_** it.

Hating it with _every single_ fiber of my body and also the fibers of my tuxedo, because the amount of hate-fibers would improve if I added my tuxedo's fibers as well.

…

Shut your trap, that's not a stupid comment at all, no, it's a _good _one, because it stresses just how much _annoyance_ was sputtering and brewing inside of me when Hungary's Carriage of Humiliation drove off – hopefully, in the direction of the _Sagrada Familía_.

But really, it wouldn't surprise me if we were actually being kidnapped to that brunette bitch's own little Homo Fun Park, in which all kinds of sassy gay people would be safely stashed away behind glassy cages while doing tons of perverted things with each other that would make my eyes and Hungary's _nose_ bleed.

…

Still, for _now_, it looked like we were going the right way, so… maybe I should stop trying to glare a hole in the carriage-door.

As I said – for _now_.

Because with Hungary, you never know.

You just. Never. Know.

…

Maybe she has changed the _Sagrada Familía _in a Homo Fun Park.

Oh GOD, I must STOP.

I groaned, rubbed my temples and leaned back in the fluffy, feathery pinkness of the carriage's seat.

Ugh.

Ugh ugh ugh _ugh_.

Just look at me. Looking very smart and handsome, sitting here all dressed up and stuff…

In a freaking **_Barbie Car_**.

With ribbons.

_Ribbons_.

If _anything _was an instant manly-self-esteem-killer…

I sighed deeply. Fuck, I _hated_ this.

I just wanted to… just… _close_ my eyes and think of nice, happy and probably very sexy thoughts (with lots of naked Antonio in it, oh yes, LOTS AND LOTS) as Feliciano and I were being taken away by what probably was the _sickest_ vehicle in the history of vehicles, without spending any more energy on trying to _like _this.

Really. I was so tense, I was ready to snarl and flip the bird at _anybody_ who had the guts to talk to me now.

…

It's just…

I… I just wanted to get to the church, marry and be alone with Antonio, okay.

That was _all_ I wanted.

Just _that_.

Just that, and _nothing_ els—

'Veee, have I already told you you're looking really handsome, big brother?'

…

…huh?

I stopped gritting my teeth and squeezing the seat in silent anger and looked up, a bit dazed.

Feliciano, who was sitting the seat opposite of mine, stared at me with big, admiring brown eyes, his face colored with a faint, excited blush.

…

…I-I couldn't possibly snap at _that_, now…

'Oh. You think so? Um… thank you.' I mumbled instead, sitting up a bit, '…you're looking very cool as well, Feliciano.'

His eyes grew even bigger.

'R-really? Just as cool as you, Lovi?'

'Don't push it now.'

He pouted and gave me a soft, playful kick to the shins. I smirked a bit, relieved to feel my angriness was, somehow, quickly disappearing now that I had received a word of praise of my younger brother.

'Hey hey, Lovi, you think…'

Feliciano bit his bottom lip with a shy little smile on his face, a smile that I had rarely seen on his face before.

'…y-you think Ludwig would think I look good?'

I rolled my eyes skeptically. 'Don't be _stupid_, Feliciano, that damn potato-freak _always_ thinks you look good, judging the way he constantly stares at you when he thinks nobody watches…'

He chuckled and nodded. 'Yeah, just like Big Brother-In-Law Toni always does with you…'

My face flushed. 'T-that's not true, that moron _always_ stares at me, no matter if people are watching or not! At least Germany has the decency to _try _and pay attention to his surroundings!'

My younger brother smiled another small smile.

'You _love_ it, Lovi.'

'What, the surroundings?' I blinked. 'Well, yeah, I love the surroundings here. It's Barcelona, after all. It's like the capital city of Art Land.'

He shook his head with a giggle.

'I wasn't talking about you loving the surroundings, big brother… I was talking about you, loving—'

'...l-loving… loving Antonio?' I hastily cut him off, looking away from him with rosy cheeks, '…w-well yes, I love him, yes…'

'Nooooo!~' Feliciano sounded annoyed, whiny and amused at the same time, '…veee, let me finish, Lovi: I'm talking about _you_, loving the _fact_ that Big Brother-In-Law Toni always _looks_ at you, no matter where he is or what he's doing!~'

'O-oh.' I said.

'Silly brother!~' Feliciano grinned. 'Veee… but it's nice to know you love Big Brother-In-Law Toni so much, you even cut me off just to tell us once again about your burning _passion_ and undying _love_ for him, Lovi!~'

'W-what?' I stammered.

'That's so _sweet_!~' Femke cooed, giving soft pats on my knee. 'How wonderful you can finally admit your genuine feelings for _Antonie_!~'

'That always is a wonderful thing.' Japan agreed.

I started to panic, overwhelmed by sheer embarrassment.

'N-no, I-I didn't tell you about my burning passion and undying love for him, I just said I love him!'

Hungary, who was sitting next to Feliciano, beamed a purposely kind, but really very _wolfish _grin at me.

Never a good sign.

FUCK.

I blankly stared back at her for a moment, my face getting hotter and hotter with embarrassment by the second before I finally pointed an alarmed finger at her.

'NO. Don't you DARE.'

She chuckled. 'Ah, I didn't say anything yet, Roma…~'

'But you were THINKING something!'

'Oh, I'm _always_… thinking… _something~_, dear…'

Pant pant, pant pant.

I _shuddered_.

'W-well, _stop _that! Stop thinking! Stop thinking the wrong thoughts, d-dammit!'

'Oh, so you _don't_ love Spain with a burning passion and undying love, _band aid boy_?~' Hungary asked, quirking an eyebrow.

'…n-no, of course I love him with a burning passion and undying love – and don't call me fucking band aid boy! – it's just… I never… I didn't literally wanted to tell _you_ that I did! NO! I mean… I didn't want to… I… u-um… I never wanted… oh f-_fuck_…'

My stuttering and blushing only increased as Hungary, Femke and Feliciano looked at me with endeared smiled.

…

…

…e-eventually, when I noticed this was a lost cause anyway, I stopped sputtering and just… j-just uttered a groan, turning my back on the rest of the passengers, so that they couldn't see my now seriously **red **face, as I decided to focus my eyes on the passing streets of Barcelona instead.

Somewhere next me, I could hear Feliciano laugh – gently.

'Veee… you're so kind, Lovi. And… a-and I really hope you will get just as much affection as you give, big brother…'

…

I cautiously looked a bit to the side, until my eyes met Feliciano's teary ones.

'That way,' he continued in a soft voice, '…that way, I'm sure you will receive all the love that you… that you've always _deserved_ to receive, over… over all these years.'

I watched my younger quickly wiping his eyes and nose off on his white tuxedo's sleeve and suddenly felt like I… l-like I couldn't _swallow_ anymore, my lips trembling a bit as I allowed my vision to become blurry.

'…sh-shut the fuck up, F-Feliciano…'

'Veee, I-I love you, big brother…'

I let out a short sob.

'Sh-shut up already, y-you damn idiot, d-don't make me cry…'

Feliciano wobbly raised up from his seat, clumsily reaching out his arms towards me.

'…L-Lovi?'

I didn't answer, I only looked at him wearily, my lips tightly pressed together.

Feliciano smiled, hesitating.

'C-can I hug you?'

…

I didn't say yes.

And I didn't say no either.

I just abruptly hopped up from my seat all of a sudden and _crashed_ into his open arms, making us both tumble backwards as the carriage bounced over the bumpy road underneath its giant wheels.

'Y-you're such a fucking dork, s-such a damn, damn _dork_…' I croaked out in the meantime, pressing Feliciano against the seat in this weird position we were standing in, and closed my eyes, hugging him and hugging him and hugging him, not nearly as much and tightly as I wanted to hug a certain Spaniard that was waiting for me, but still more than I'd probably _ever_ hug every other person.

My younger brother let out a startled yelp, followed by a giggle, followed by a silence…

…followed by an shaking sigh and sob when he hugged me back with trembling arms.

'I-I really hope you've found whatever you were looking for, Lovi…'

…

…

Re…

Regardless of whatever Feliciano meant to say with those words…

…

…I-I knew I _had_.

**XxX**

A few minutes later, not long after Feliciano and I had released each other and had tried very hard to ignore two specific women and one specific man (with their glassy eyes and high-itched squeals of delight and blissfulness) for the rest of the hoppy trip, the carriage was suddenly halted.

And judging by the beautiful sight I saw outside when I stuck my head out of the carriage, I could tell why.

The _Sagrada Familía_.

We were there.

We were _there_.

At the construction site of the church.

…

…

C-cranes, random pieces of rock, unusual boulders, chunks of stone, unfinished ornaments and sand, sand as far as the site could reach…

…it all had never looked more _beautiful_ to me.

**xXx**

While Feliciano, me, Japan and the girls were still lingering because of everything and everyone that was waiting for us in the church (not sure why we did that, we probably wanted to be fashionably late or something, even though my brother and I couldn't wait to dash into that damn church already), the door of the carriage was suddenly opened by no one other than…

…Switzerland.

…

Switzerland in _suit_, even.

'Good afternoon,' he greeted me and the others with a polite nod, 'I hope the ride wasn't too uncomfortable for the four of you, as I tried to maneuver my horses and the carriage through the traffic as good as I could.'

'_You_ brought us to the church?' I heard myself ask the Swiss in confusing, helping Femke to get out of the – oh god, now that I had a better view on it, it actually looked more like a massive, hideous _**pink cake **_– carriage.

The blonde man with the stern eyes nodded, a small smile breaking through on his face nevertheless.

'That's correct, Romano. Orders from my supervisor.'

'Your supervisor?' Feliciano said and cocked his head.

'My supervisor, yes.' Switzerland nodded again. 'You know him well.'

I opened my mouth to say something.

But nothing came out.

'Make sure to give Mister Vatican City a call later on this week.' Switzerland advised both me and Feliciano, as he closed the door of the carriage and gestured the five of us to walk after him. 'No matter what he feels or believes, I'm sure he'd like that.'

'Y-yeah…' I muttered, walking just behind him, my eyes wide open.

Then Femke came walking next to me and grabbed my arm, holding it as she smiled excitedly at me.

'_He_ arranged the carriage for us?' I managed to mumble.

'Oh no, the carriage was _Lizzie's_ idea, Lovino.' Femke said, rubbing my arm. '…but the careful guidance by a faithful and loyal man like Switzerland… that was your _brother's_.'

'I can't believe it…'

'I'm sure neither can he.'

At that, I couldn't help but chuckle.

Chuckle and allow the blonde, Belgian woman to wipe my way too moist face a bit.

…

T-to think… and the ceremony hadn't even started yet!

**xXx**

In a matter of mere moments, moments in which Hungary, Japan, Femke, Feliciano and I all talked together about what was going to happen and about what had happened the past couple of days (because what a hectic week it had been, dammit), our group had reached the closed entrance of the _Sagrada Familía_.

And what an entrance it was:

Stately, steep stairs from the construction site leading up to the church – and to the doors. Doors that were hidden in some sort of niche. A niche that was decorated in the most beautiful forms, with weirdly-placed pillars surrounding it. Brown colors and materials.

…

It… it was all so official and serious, it all looked and felt so amazing and unreal, I… I couldn't even _imagine_ the atmosphere that now probably was most prominent inside of the church.

Right before we really _really _stood in front of the enormous doors,, Hungary suddenly passed all of us and stopped right in front of the doors, turning towards us after breathing in a deep breath.

'Okay…' she started with a whisper, '…when we go through these doors, we are immediately standing in what I like to call the center, the most important part of the church. The part where the weddings will happen. There's not a hall – you just need to shuffle forward as soon it's your turn to shuffle forward. There will be nations standing on both sides of the path you two are supposed to walk and there will be very, _very_ bad music, put together by America.'

'He just went right on through with it, didn't he?' I grimaced.

Hungary sighed. 'Yes. He even made remixes of his remixes.'

'…he _what_?' I hissed.

Feliciano laughed. 'Veee, I didn't know America was a remixing DJ man person!~'

'So yes, be prepared to hear a very screwed up version of those songs you heard earlier this week.' Hungary carried on.

'That bad, huh.'

'I even feel sorry for the _chairs_, Romano.'

'Oh _god_.'

'Ahh, but anyway!~' Hungary clapped her hands, '…now, pay attention, everybody! Remember what we've practiced yesterday: Fem-Fem and Mr. Kiku are the first ones to walk to the altar, and then Roma and Veni will follow them. Walk slowly, but not _too_ slowly, because we'd like you two to get married before the clock strikes twelve and you all change back into regular men and pumpkins again.'

…

We all stared at her.

At that, Hungary, who was giggling first, clacked her tongue.

'Well. I'm glad you all share the same mind-blowing sense of humor, dears.'

'Um… anyway, what about you and Switzerland, Hungary? When are you entering the church?' I decided to say, conveniently ignoring all of Hungary's sentences that I was better off ignoring.

'Me?'

The green eyes of the brunette lit up a bit.

'Ah, don't worry yourself about us, dear!~ We go in after you and Veni have started walking down the aisle and we'll close the doors and so on. You won't be needing my help once you've began walking to those lucky men standing at the altar, so please, just focus on that Spaniard on the other side of the room, Roma. Think you can do that?'

I thought about Antonio, waiting inside, staring at the big doors with this never-fading smile on his face.

'I can do that.' I automatically heard myself say.

'And _you_,' Hungary said to my brother, smiling at him, '…I tell you the same I told Romano: you just need to think of your loving Germany, dearie. You should have seen him this morning. Oh, you would have loved it. He was so scared to fall behind schedule, he already was awake and all dressed up before I could even point out to him it was only 11 0'clock in the evening!~'

Feliciano chuckled bashfully. 'Veee… Luddy can be kind of panicky when it's about… m-me…'

'That's because you mean a lot to him, Veni.'

'I-I know.'

The Hungarian smiled, taking a step back.

'You… you and your brother better have a great time now, okay Veni?'

'We will!~' Feliciano promised her – and gave me a poke.

'…right, Lovi?'

'You bet.' I smiled and poked him back.

'Everybody ready?'

Switzerland grabbed the handles of both humongous doors and looked over his shoulders.

'Oh! Oh! Wait! Just a sec!' Hungary squealed, flapping her hands excitedly, '…quick quick, Fem-Fem en Mr. Kiku here… Roma and Veni, you know it: you need to wait a few seconds before walking behind them.'

'Got it.' Japan nodded, offering Femke his arm that was instantly captured by her.

'We're ready, too!~' Feliciano happily said, after which he took a very deep breath and took my hand in his, squeezing it a bit harder than he probably wanted to.

I snickered. 'Oh? Nervous, _much_?'

'Aren't _you_?' Feliciano countered with a huff.

I stared at him. Then I stared at the big doors in front of us (well, actually in front of Japan and Femke, but you get the idea), that were now slowly opening before our eyes. We could already hear some musical tunes escaping through the narrow, but increasingly growing gap.

I smiled and looked back at Feliciano.

'No.'

**XxX**

It's…

It's kind of hard to describe what I saw when the doors were opened completely.

As I tried to see everything that was _worth_ seeing, it was like time stood still for a second.

I… I had expected to see a somewhat darker chamber, since churches tended to be very dark from the inside, no matter how many windows, leaded lights or other sources of light there were available, but…

…well, the _Sagrada Familía _wasn't dark at _all_.

There was this… this warm, yellowish _glow_ coming from inside of the church, I noticed. A peaceful, calming, yet stately atmosphere. And while the most noticeable color in the chamber obviously was yellow, the numerous round, sort-of flower-shaped leaded lights close to the sky-high ceiling of the unfinished building casted many _other _lights inside the church as well, only those lights never… how should I say it… _fell_ _down_. They just kept hovering above the yellow.

…

It… it was so beautiful to see. So, so beautiful.

And the sun, sparkling through the leaded room at the other side of the chamber, only made the ambiance, the lights, the art inside of the church even more amazing than it already was.

Wonderful.

Wonderful.

Just so wonderful.

It was almost like I was entering my ideal image of _heaven_, only _real_.

The chamber also was beautifully decorated, I had to say. Femke hadn't lied to me when she told me I would be surprised at this fantastic outcome…

I saw flowers. Lots of flowers. Daisies, carnations (and some other kind of flower that probably was a typical German kind) everywhere. A red carpet. The Italian, Spanish and German flag, hanging in the back of the church.

And…

And maybe the **_best_** of all…

…there were big canvases spread in the chamber, hanging on the walls, standing next to the chairs, being held by grinning and cheering nations that said "Congratulations!" in _every_ present nation's own language:

"Onneksi okoon!"

"Félicitations!"

"Gratulálok!"

"Gefeliciteerd!"

"Tebrikler!"

…a-and so on, and so on…

…

…o-oh god, this was fantastic…

…

I-I didn't know what to say, really, I seriously didn't know what to say…

…

Although I think I'd probably make a good start with "thank you".

But not now.

Not _now_.

It wasn't before Feliciano gave me another squeeze that time finally started passing again and I blinked, forgetting about all the lights and decorations I had seen in the church when I finally looked at all the persons present (HOLY SHIT, so many people, oh god, I didn't know we had invited the whole damn _solar system_)…

…a-and then I, together with Feliciano, took the first careful, but steady steps on the red-carpeted path lying in front of us, leading to the altar much further ahead.

Around us, everybody was smiling and waving – and when we walked further into the chamber, we started getting pats on the back and shoulders, and we were wished good luck, and there were people clapping, and oh, there were the Scandinavian nations standing, and there were Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, and that was England in a purple tuxedo, and oh, looks like Luxembourg had made it to the wedding, and what an _awful _remix I heard, my _god_, but how nice of America to put so much work in these samples for us, and there were lots and lots and _lots _of other people standing and cheering us on, and…

…

…who the hell were those people anyway?

'Feliciano?' I awkwardly lisped through my teeth as I waved back at a mustachioed man that I didn't know, no matter how enthusiastically he was flailing his arms.

'Yes?' my brother lisped back, laughing and high-fiving another random person.

'There are _humans_ present here as well, aren't there?'

'Veee, I suppose… I mean, I've never seen Russia surrounded by so many smiling faces before, so yeah… humans it is!~'

'What the _fuck_ are _humans_ doing here?'

'Veee… I think… I think _they_ think we're doing a play…'

'A _play_?'

'A play…'

'But… we're _not_.'

'Nope…'

'You better go tell them it's real.'

'No, _you _tell them.'

'No _you_!'

Feliciano chuckled and gave me a flashing smile.

'Veee, does it even _matter_, Lovi?'

I looked back at him and tried to frown sarcastically, but for some reason, I couldn't.

Getting observed by strangers who hadn't had a clue what was going on or not, I still felt way too happy to complain.

'W-well, as long as they behave themselves and don't start chanting evil anti-homo songs, I guess I can tolerate their presence.'

'Veee… that's the spirit, big brother!~' Feliciano said, '…you're right, as long as they…'

He then abruptly stopped talking and stopped blinking, staring at something in front of him. A soft expression appeared on his face as he uttered a shaky sigh.

'Wh-what's wrong?' I asked him, skillfully evading Denmark, who kept on crossing the red carpet while waving at and being ignored by Norway.

Feliciano looked at me in surprise, still with those soft eyes, and giggled.

'…why do you _think_ I'm looking like this right now, Lovi?'

I shrugged. 'You've seen a plate with pasta here somewhere?'

Instead of drooling and instantly looking around him, what I had half-expected him to do, my brother calmly shook his head.

'No.'

…

…okay. His adult behavior started to seriously _worry_ me now (come on, it was _pasta! PASTA!_) and I tilted my head to the side questioningly.

'Then what _else_ is making you look so… spaced out?'

He groaned.

'Veee, I can't believe how _slow _you are, big brother.'

'Hey, I'm _not_—'

'_Look_, Lovi.'

Feliciano (surprisingly forcefully!) grabbed my _face_ between his thumb and forefinger, squishing my cheeks and making my lips pout as he twisted my head, effectively convincing me that way to stare in the same direction he himself was staring.

'_Fwey_!' I nagged and was about to tear those nasty fingers off me, when…

…w-when my eyes suddenly noticed a familiar back, standing just a few meters away from me.

Oh.

O-_oh_.

Automatically, I… I kind of… forget everything I was thinking and doing and I kept sort of… staring at the person.

And his back.

…

D-damn, I-I loved that back…

Not even talking about his _lower _back here – no, just his back.

His normal, but manly back.

God knows how many times I've stared at it, wanting to touch it or feel it or just quickly rub my face against when I was sure there was no one around to see my shy, wordless request for some attention and affection of him (that was always answered, by the way)…

…o-or just when I was feeling safe and loved and simply _felt_ like doing that, or… or whenever, really…

It wasn't just his back that gave me these kind of feelings, though. I also loved… th-that unruly, but very pretty, dark-brown curly hair of his, that hair, that just… j-just was so very… u-unruly and dark-brown and curly and pretty… a-and nice to run your fingers through… to hold on to during… _ahem_… certain activities…

…a-and… and oh, I also happen to love the way he was _standing_ right now, the way he observed the artsy surroundings around him like a curious little child, and the way he was currently bouncing back and forth on his feet, impatient and looking around again, looking for something, for someone, for…

…f-for _me_, maybe?

…

Oh god.

Yeah.

Yeah, there he was.

Antonio.

T-there he was.

Not noticing me.

Probably because he was facing the other way.

…

Really, why I hadn't ever won some damn scientific, Nobel prizes – one of the biggest mysteries of _life_.

Hum. I… well, I started to feel a bit awkward, stupidly standing here and all, and I was about to wonder if I should… s-should… I don't know, do something to get his attention, like just… hurrying over to him and… p-pull him on his sleeve and demand him to h-hold me already, or _whatever_, but right at _that_ moment, France noticed me – and quickly whispered something to him while pointing at me.

And all of a sudden, Antonio stiffened in all of his wobbly movements and…

…a-and looked behind him. And saw me.

_Immediately._

Oh.

He…

That…

That was Antonio, alright…

A smiling, blushing and oh so very _handsome hot sexy sweet loving oh god how much I wanted him I wanted him how much I wanted all of him _Antonio…

…who now _spontaneously_ started swinging his arms through the air, grinning and mouthing "Lovi! Lovi!" at me like the dork he was.

…

I fucking loved that man.

'A-Anthowbio…' I therefore sputtered weirdly, with Feliciano's hand still clamped around my face (_yes_, that's right, _he was still doing it_), and gazed at the handsome Spaniard just a… j-just a little bit longer, not even _caring_ about Feliciano's hand anymore as I watched Antonio quickly restoring his original, gentlemanly position, without taking his eyes off me.

…

I-I liked it when he was doing gentlemanly…

Next to me, I suddenly heard Feliciano gasp and before I even was aware of it, he hastily let go of my face.

'O-oh, sorry Lovi, sorry, I-I just was a bit distracted by Ludwig a bit, veee…'

I was still a bit dazzled by Antonio's inviting manliness and slowly rubbed my not even painful face, absentmindedly smiling at my brother.

'…did you say something?'

He didn't answer or smile back – he was busy blushing and chuckling, grinning broadly at Germany, who did the same.

I weakly snorted a bit, trying to ignore Antonio's persistent eyes on me.

'…I have to admit, for a _German_, he sure looks… spiffy, Feliciano.'

'Awww, _thank_ you!~' Feliciano said, as if I had complimented him, without looking away from Germany, '…veee, Big Brother-In-Law Toni looks awesome as well…'

'You're not even _looking_.' I huffed.

'Veee, that doesn't matter, I'm sure he does.'

'H-he really does, yes…' I muttered, now looking at Antonio again, not even holding back an overexcited smile as I sheepishly waved at him – I-I know, stupid, but I just couldn't help myself, I-I felt too much.

Antonio didn't wave back though – he just smiled some more than he already was doing, but maybe a bit… happier, a bit more cheerful, and he made an elegant bow, gallantly reaching out a hand to me.

O-oh _god_.

I spread my eyes wide open and swallowed, almost hysterically patting Feliciano on the shoulders.

'S-so anyway, I need to go now, I-I need to take this… hand.'

'Veee, so do I…'

'H-have a nice wedding, Feliciano.'

'Y-you too, Lovi…'

And with that, we synchronously parted our ways and walked—no, _fucking _**_raced_** over to our significant other while behind us, a thunderous applause filled the chamber.

But I didn't hear it.

I didn't see it and didn't feel it and didn't _care_ about it, because as soon as I felt his warm hand close itself around mine, as soon as I was pulled closer to him, all I could hear, see, feel and care about was Antonio.

**xXx**

As soon as I stood in front of him, Antonio wasted no time in taking both of my hands in his and intertwining our fingers together.

…

G-god, he was warm.

N-no, not just his hands or his fingers – _he _was _warm_. Antonio's whole very _being_… was _warm_.

I felt his warmth… _shooting_ through me the second I – after taking some deep, unsteady breaths – looked up to him and was met with his loving gaze, resting on me like it always rested on me, and, well, if I think about it, I really think it had _always_ rested on me, in a way.

O-or something…

…

…I-I don't know, o-okay…

…

S-so anyway, while I was trying hard to… l-look away from his gorgeousness and trying even _harder_ to think of something… funny, or catchy, or ironic to say to him (and made weird, voiceless lip movements with my mouth that must have looked really silly), Antonio's hands lightly squeezed mine, making me stop thinking and… well, squeeze back.

And _look_ back.

'Hi, Lovino.' Antonio gently said, his eyes a little bit narrowed and softened.

'H-hi…' I muttered as well, biting my bottom lip in an attempt to hide the insane happy grin that was appearing on my face.

'You…' He paused, his cheeks flushing more and more the longer he waited with continuing his sentence, '…y-you look… you look really, really…'

'…y-yeah?' I nodded encouragingly, swaying our hands from side to side for a bit because I _could_.

'…_breathtaking_.' Antonio slowly breathed out. 'You look absolutely _breathtaking_.'

I was quiet for a bit, but then I chuckled and shyly shook my head.

'N-naaah, I'm not looking… _that _great…'

He smiled. 'But you _are _looking _that _great, Lovi.'

'I-I'm telling you I'm _not_, y-you basta—'

'You're breathtaking.' Antonio decidedly said, ignoring my stammering. 'You're breathtaking, handsome, perfect, and I'm falling in love with you all over again.'

'Y-you…'

'And… a-and I'm so happy I have the honor of marrying you… s-so happy, so very, very happy…'

Antonio's bright, green eyes became a bit shiny and watery as he breathed in and out carefully.

'…y-you're my wish come true, Lovino…'

…

…

There was a strange little squeaky tone coming out of my mouth and I gulped, blinking my just as blurry eyes quickly, holding his hands as tightly as I could.

'S-shit, y-you and your _words_, y-your damn **_words_**, d-dammit…'

He laughed softly, quickly let go of one of my hands for a bit (he had to _shake_ mine off) to wipe off his eyes, and then immediately grabbed my hand again, blushing just a tad more when he felt I instantly spread my fingers to let his wiggle in-between them.

'I love you, Lovino.'

'…o-oh, f-fucking…' I now even started to _gasp_ and shit, '…I-I fucking love you too, you… y-you moron… I love you… s-so _much_…'

Antonio let out a shuddering sigh and suddenly pulled me against him, passionately kissing me on the lips, if only for a second or two, before hastily pulling back again, never letting go of my hands.

'A-Antonio!' I stammered, shocked and bewildered and very happy he had decided to do just that, because I had needed that kiss, needed it _very_ badly, even if that kiss had to be given right in front of all those nations and people, without even caring we weren't alone.

Antonio panted a bit, pressing our foreheads together.

'I-I know, sorry, I-I shouldn't have done that, but… y-you're just too… t-too… god, I just _had_ to do it…'

'…i-it's okay…' I managed to say, smiling as I tried to get eye-contact with him like this, '…it's more than okay, r-really…'

'…yeah?'

'Y-yeah…'

I swallowed again and released his hands, carefully raising my own a bit until they were holding and caressing Antonio's hot face.

'…y-you're so sweet, Antonio…'

He stared at me in silence, then wrapped his arms around my waist and leant his face forward. I could hear yet another sigh escaping from his lips as soon as I lazily moved my face towards him as well and gently kissed him.

Less than a second later, his arms literally _clamped_ around my waist in delighted and I awkwardly moved my hands to the back of his head, running them through his hair without holding back as I kissed him and was kissed and kissed him and was kissed.

Oh, the warmth, so much warmth. It felt like my heart was set on fucking _fire_.

But… eventually, I decided that was enough kissing and nibbling and flaming hearts and what not for now, and pushed him back just a little bit, chuckling and blushing just as much as he did when we looked at each other again.

And _that_ was the moment I finally spotted… _that_.

'…A-Antonio?' I mumbled, one of my hands travelling back to his face again.

'Hm-hm?~' he hummed, cheekily pecking my lips again.

'…wh-what's this?'

I cautiously poked the side of his face, where I could feel and see some hints of some sort of… fabric? I don't know, but… it was _something_, alright…

'Hm?' Antonio blinked and brought a hand to his face to feel what I was feeling and grinned sheepishly when he covered my hand with his.

'Ah, that would be a… band aid, Lovino.'

'A band aid?'

I stared at him and tilted his face to the side. And yes, there it was: a band aid. A band aid just like mine.

'…w-why the hell are you wearing a band aid as well, y-you dork…' I muttered, although I already had an idea.

Antonio backed off a few centimeters and touched the band aid on the side of my forehead, still smiling.

'Um… did you read my note this morning, Lovi?'

'Yes.' I nodded. 'Epic story, by the way.'

'Well, _that's_ why.'

'…what, you mean it bled _that_ badly?'

'Badly enough for a band aid, ahahaha!~'

I huffed. 'So… now we're _both_ going to get married with band aids on our faces?'

'It looks like it…' Antonio hesitated.

'Oh.'

'Do you mind?'

'No.' I grinned, patting his cheek. 'I still had to take back on you for smashing that door in my face, after all… but now that my fist and your unfortunate meeting with the carpet have violated your face as well, I guess we're even. Besides…'

I lowered my arms until they were resting on his hips and gripped them teasingly.

'…b-besides, I'm feeling so fucking cheerful and excited because of you right now, I think _nothing_ can bring me down anymore…'

'I'm glad, sweetie.' Antonio said, relieved and flattered at the same time, and kissed my cheek.

I grinned some more. 'Cut that out, you slick, cunning man.'

'Never!~' Antonio chuckled and now enthusiastically started peppering my neck and throat with cute little kisses.

'Stop it!' I laughed – oh, and _how_ – and giggled – oh, and _how_ – and I wanted to push that annoying and wonderful face of his away, but I quit acting like, well, like my happy version of myself, really, as I suddenly felt a shadow falling over us…

…a _Dutch_ shadow.

Which was really scary, especially when you just opened your eyes again and the first thing you saw were those peering, glaring, impatient green, baggy eyes of the Dutchman.

'**_GAH_**!' I therefore yelped, throwing my hands up and almost smacking Antonio in the face.

'Okay. Are you two finished licking each other off?' the Netherlands grunted, his eyebrows low and dangerous, 'I have a shitload more to do then watching you getting horny.'

'Ah, s-sorry, sorry, my fault…' Antonio stammered with a pathetic grin, clumsily straightening his clothes and taking my hands again.

'Your fault? I should have known. But I didn't. That's your fault, too.' Netherlands growled, and then turned away and walked back to his former spot again.

Meanwhile, my jaw fell as I followed the blond man with my eyes.

The Netherlands… didn't look like the Netherlands at _all_ anymore.

His clothes, for example, were very… priest-like. Very tidy. Maybe a tad too big for him and perhaps he shouldn't have gone for the badass black robe, too, but he still knew to work it fairly well, like he just didn't give a _shit_ about how he looked like in that ceremonial attire – and I was absolutely sure that _that_ was exactly the case, he just didn't give a shit.

And his hair was…

…well… it was… he had let it down. He had actually _let it down_. And that was probably the reason why he now looked like… a very grumpy, frowny, small-nosed, priestly mutation of Russia. Or some sort of creepy brother of Germany.

He was…

…

**_Nethrusmany_**_!_

The European slayer of **_legend_**_!_

…

…

'What's so funny, Lovi? What are you laughing about?' Antonio suddenly asked me confusedly when he noticed my shaking shoulders and snorted, muffled giggles.

I repressed another snicker and grinned at Antonio, wanting to tell him about my inside-joke – I mean, he would probably think it was funny, too, since we shared the same pointless sense of humor – but before I could even start explaining my strange little outburst of chuckles, Nethrusma— I mean, the Netherlands, cleared his throat.

On his own, subtle way.

'**_Harrrrrruuuuummmmp_**.'

…

And it echoed so nicely, too.

In a matter of seconds, the whole lively, chatty, noisy chamber inside the church, filled to the brim with guests, nations and everything in between, was silenced by this (strategically?) move of the almost unrecognizable Dutchman – and naturally, everybody, including me and Antonio, looked at the Netherlands in unsure anticipation.

'Yeah, I have an announcement to make,' said man stated, emotionlessly staring back at the rest of the people present as he stood there, behind the altar, '…and it's an announcement that's about that one priestly book with that wedding speech inside that I was supposed to bring with me. Namely that I didn't.'

…

…

You could hear a needle fall on the floor – _that's_ how quiet it had suddenly become in the church.

'But don't worry. I _got_ this.' Netherlands continued, giving us four panicky wedding participants a soothing nod with accompanied hand gestures. 'The priestly speech is probably going to be a little bit different than you're used to, but trust me, it's all going to work out just fine. I'm best at improvising stuff anyway.'

'_Improvising_?' I heard Feliciano yelp in a high voice, '…h-he's going to _improvise _the official wedding speech?'

'Don't worry, Feliciano, he won't get away with this. I'll give him a stern warning and wag my finger at him first thing after the ceremony.' Germany promised him.

As for me, I groaned in desperation, softly bumping my forehead against Antonio's chest.

'I knew all of this went _too_ good for _too_ long to be true. I just _knew_ it…'

Antonio, however, chuckled and pushed me upright again.

'_I _think it's nice, Lovi! I mean, look at the brighter side: at least we'll get an authentic wedding speech that's probably never been given before, so that's pretty special, right?~'

'Well… if you think so…' I frowned, blinking my eyes.

'I do think so.' Antonio smiled, brushing some hair out of my face. 'Have some faith in that Dutch tomato-killer, he probably has some very catchy words up his sleeve. Or robe. So just let it all happen and enjoy yourself as much as you can. Don't let such a minor setback stand in the way of your big day, sweetie. Think you can do that?'

'O-_our_ big day…' I corrected him, mumbling.

'What did you say?' Antonio asked.

'It's… it's _our_ big day, Antonio.' I said again. '…n-not just mine, not just yours – it's _our_ big day.'

That made the Spanish man stop his cheerful, carefree smiling… and he changed it into bashful, reassuring smiling instead.

'You're right…' he then muttered in a low, loving voice, looking down at me with eyes flowing overwith admiration and blissfulness, '…it's _our_ big day, my love. Let's get the best out of it, okay?'

'Okay.' I smiled back at him, hopefully just as meaningful.

Now.

I was ready for it.

Yes.

Lame speech or not, I was _ready_ for it.

Give me your _worst_, Nethrusmany.


	74. Hind Quarters

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1:_** Word is that the PM-system of the site isn't working very well. So in case you're wondering what's taking me so long to reply to your review: I probably already did, you just can't see it. Yet.  
****Oh, and apparently, the alert-system is busted as well, so if you didn't get an update alert – not my fault, just the site acting up again.  
****How very lovely.  
****Let's hope you can at least read this chapter.^^;;;**

_A/n2: I was reading this fic over for a bit the last couple of days – when I actually had time to do that, that is – and one thing that caught my eye was…  
_…_I really tend to ramble in the A/n's. Like, REALLY. Like, blahblahblahblabber.  
__Sure, I started out very carefully, with just a couple of sentences…  
__But lately, I'm boring you all to death with my stupid, random facts that are (or are not LOL~) happening in my life/the Netherlands/that big chunk of continent called Europe ON A FUCKING WEEKLY BASIS.  
__And the weirdest thing is: most of you even say you LIKE reading all of that!  
__I… I have no words for that. It's amazing that you're all **that** interested in my uninteresting everyday life.  
__Makes me feel special.  
__But then again, you guys ALWAYS make me feel special, no matter what.  
__Thank you for that._^^ _I'm serious. _

_A/n3: In case you were wondering, the languages in which Lovi and the others were congratulated by the guests were…  
_"Onneksi okoon!" _(Finnish)  
_"Félicitations!" _(French)  
_"Gratulálok!" _(Hungarian)  
_"Gefeliciteerd!" _(Dutch – yeah, what did you expect)  
_"Tebrikler!" _(Turkish)  
__Thank you, random translation-site on the mighty interwebz! _8DDDDDD

_A/n4: Thank you all so much for your understanding._^^ _Really, I'm a very lucky author to have reviewers like you guys.  
__As I said, the chapter is pretty "short" – well, it still is a lot longer than I thought it would be – but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!_^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXIV:

_**Perfect Hind-Quarters  
**__**(Sleep Dirt)**_

'_**Harrrrruummmp**_.

Dearly beloved people, nations, wedding participants and chairs. And other persons and things with legs and stuff. Because you are all dearly beloved, too.

I guess.

…

Today, we've gathered here with a certain reason, since most gatherings have one.

A reason, I mean. And this gathering is no exception. Nope.

Um.

…

Yeah. So anyway, there are four persons standing here who would like to get married. They are all men and they are all very annoying to be with for too long, especially that one Spanish and German one, but I guess it's kind of nice to see that even _these_ persons have found somebody who's crazy and patient enough to try and spend the rest of their lives with the other.

Normally, I'd say I'd give them five days before hell breaks loose, but considering the fact that they're _already_ spending most of their days together, I should be more realistic.

So six days it is.

…

Um.

I think the book now would say said something about the importance of love and mutual trust and good sex and things like that, so I'm going to do that, too. But a bit differently, as I don't remember what the heck that weird book said again at this point.

…

I do know what Hungary's book said, by the way.

But that's not relevant.

For now.

…

Okay.

Love. I know love. I'm not too familiar with the concept, but yeah, I've heard good things about it. Love seems to make everything better. It's not some kind of miracle potion that can solve everything that's wrong on this planet, like wars and corruption, and it certainly won't help you getting better when you're very sick and possibly dying, but even in these and many other nasty situations, it's still great to know that you, at _least_, have known to love and be loved.

Because you don't have to fight alone. You don't have to die alone. You don't have to face the hardships of life alone. Not when you're in a loving relationship with somebody special, somebody that, no matter what, will stand behind you, protect you, respect you, love you and take care of you.

These four persons here, standing in front of me, have decided that they are ready for such a lifelong commitment to one another. They respect each other, know each other, take care of each other and won't ever hurt each other, or at least not on purpose, because I really don't believe that you can have a marriage in which nobody is ever hurt, but oh well.

Anyway, these persons, these _people_ even, _love_ each other dearly. That's wonderful – and that's why they wish to make their love for each other official by marrying today.

…

…

Um.

Yeah.

On the right side of me and left side of the rest of you… guest-people, you see an annoying Spaniard and a hotheaded Italian.

They will get married together.

Yup.

…

And oh, on the left side of me and right side of you, you see a very nervous German and another Italian, only not hotheaded, but peppy, a bit like that Spaniard, only cuter.

They will get married together, too.

…

Um, that nervous German and peppy Italian, I mean.

…

…

Now.

I could tell you lots of things about these four persons. Good things. Bad things. Embarrassing things. Boring things.

But I won't.

Because they'll do that themselves.

…

All the wedding candidates have written vows for their future husbands, and we will listen to that in awe.

…

Or we'll just listen to that.

…

Well.

Oldest ones of each couple first, I'd say, so that means I'm giving the word to Spain first, since he's not only the oldest of that Latino-couple, but he's also the oldest wedding participant here, even older than Germany, maybe a lot older than Germany, and I think he's even older than this very church. That's just how old he is.

…

And then it's Germany's turn.

And then Romano's.

And then Veneciano's.

And then I'll say "do you want to blahblahblah" and then they'll go like "yes, I'd like to blahblahblah" and then kissing and blahblahblah will ensue.

And then we will eat.

…

But anyway, first up: the vows of that one old man, Spain, also known as the Kingdom of Spain, also known as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, but only for close friends, Italian runts and reluctant Dutch priests who actually want to call him other, unfriendly names.

…

Well. Take it away, Spain. You're up.

…

Oh, also, for those who need to go take a piss: grab your chance, folks, now's your opportunity.'

**xXx**

…

Well.

That was… special.

…

God, I felt violated.

Wonder what went through Antonio's head right now…

I hesitated, but slowly turned my face to look at the Spaniard anyway, half-expecting to see _hell_ flowing over in his eyes or something… but to my great surprise, he didn't seem annoyed at all – heck, he even _laughed_!

'A-are you okay, Antonio?' I stammered as Antonio let go of my hands and started rummaging through his pockets.

He gave me a _dazzling_ bright smile that _flashed_ through the entire church and temporary blinded those who weren't used to it.

'Of _course_ I'm okay, sweetie!~ I'm happy, I'm busy marrying you – ah, I've never been _better_!~'

I nodded a bit stiffly. 'S-sure, but the Netherlands…'

'Hmmm?'

'Didn't you hear all of that?'

'All of what, Lovi?'

…

…oh, for the love of _crap_.

'He… he was _mean_, Antonio! About you! He said mean things about you and stuff!' I helplessly spluttered upon realizing he _really_ didn't have a clue where I was trying to go with this.

'Really? I must have missed all of that, then.' Antonio smiled blissfully. 'Because all I heard was a very nice, honest, straight-out-of-the-heart speech. And so _friendly_, too!~'

'_What_?'

'I mean, _wow_! How nice of him to try and send people to the bathroom now that I'm supposed to read something out loud! He must know I'm pretty nervous when I have to speak up in front of a big crowd!'

'Um, I don't think—'

'And yes, I actually _am_ a lot older than the church! How very informative for the people who didn't know that!~ Ahahaha! Bet the standard touristic brochure never tells the humans _that_!~'

'…Antonio, you _really_ think they need a _brochure_ to tell them that the nationis older than an _unfinished_ church, located _in _the nation?'

'Yup!~'

'Okay. Just checking.'

Antonio didn't hear the sarcasm hidden in my voice (words couldn't express my surprise at this) and started to hop up and down a bit.

'Oh, oh! You think we can hire the Netherlands to speak on our one-years anniversary next year, Lovi?'

I stared at him.

'…you're kidding me, right?'

'Sure, if you fags can pay me, I'll see what I can do for you. No promises, though. I'm like a very expensive hooker. I'm very expensive.' Netherlands instantly jumped in, giving me a _simpatico_-nod.

'…yo, Romano. Cool pink flower.'

…

Fucking asshole.

I wish I could have sneered something witty and arrogant back at him in return, something _grrrr_-esk that would make me feel all victoriously and almighty and at least one head taller than him and shit, but, unsurprisingly, nothing witty or arrogant came up.

…

Typical.

And oh, the _bitterest_ thing was that I was _sure_ I could think of a perfect come-back later this night, like when the wedding was over, but then it would be too late to have my sweet verbal revenge on him, since I'd be having way too much divine sex.

Besides, I don't think Antonio would like it very much if I'd jump off him during the deed, shouting "YES! Let's tell the Netherlands about this!".

Even though that would be a pretty funny image.

…

Oh _god_.

But anyway…

…as I originally was saying, I knew nothing to say to him _now_, so in the end, I just _glared_ at the Dutchman very fearfully and shrugged off the natural urge to shove my middle finger in his face.

'_Ah_! Here they are!~' I suddenly heard Antonio chirp beside me – and I _gasped_, snapping my head to the side, immediately feeling a spark _sizzling_ through the veins of my startled heart as I remembered my vows-plan.

Oh _fuck_.

And yes, Antonio was now indeed holding the folded papers containing the vows.

MY vows.

Oh _god_.

I held in my breath, practically _screaming _internally as I watched Antonio clearing his throat, fumbling with the vows.

_NO_!

Y-you're not supposed to read them now already!

D-don't fold the papers open yet! Don't ruin it now!

Don't… just… just _don't_!

Check the scribbles on the vows, moron, check the scribbles, check the scribbles!

_The scribbles the scribbles the scribbles the scrblmblcstlbls **dammit**_**!**

'Ah, how strange!~' Antonio laughed cheerfully at me, scratching the back of his head. 'I could have sworn I had put these in the pocket of my jacket, but look: they were in the back-pocket of my pants!~ Ahahaha! I was already wondering what that thing poking into my butt-cheek was!~'

…

Somewhere, here in this room, a certain brunette woman was snickering and trying to plug her bleeding nose with pink, frilly hankies.

…

DAMN YOU, HUNGARY.

May your panties _shrink _and your ass _grow_, you opportunity-seizing _creep_!

'Oh, I sure hope you'll love my vows, Lovino…'

Oh god. My cheeks increased their usual already fairly warm temperature even more when I caught Antonio's sweet, yet excited smile, beaming my way.

…

O-oh god god god, _fuck_ that stupid Hungary – she wasn't important now, more important right now was that Antonio would read the scribble on the papers before he'd fold them open, before he'd—

…

Oh.

He had noticed the scribbles.

He was actually reading them now.

And frowning confusedly.

Hmm. Frowning confusedly.

I didn't like that.

Oh crap, maybe he didn't get it. Maybe I should have written easier words.

Or maybe I should have made, you know. Instruction-drawings. Little accompanying drawings that go with the scribbles.

Like an instruction booklet of an IKEA-closet.

…

Or something.

I stressed the hell out for a few more seconds, until suddenly, _thankfully_, all these useless, panicky thoughts of mine were quickly and very discretely shoved off my internally mental cliff of eternal neurotic paranoid pitfalls, because…

…b-because when Antonio finally looked up from the still folded vows and glanced at me, there was a very curious, questioning and excited expression on his face.

_Oh_.

He got it.

He _got_ it, alright.

'…I'm not entirely sure what's going on, Lovi…' Antonio started, simply putting the vows in his hands back in his pocket, '…but… I trust you.'

I gave him a small, relieved and thankful smile in return.

'T-thank you.'

Then I swallowed a lump – and took out my vows.

Or should I say, _his_.

Almost immediately, I heard the Netherlands grumble in dismay on the background. Softly, but still.

'Now wait a minute, Romano, I just said _Spain_ should read _his_ vows to _you_. I didn't say _you_ should read _your_ vows to _him_.'

I looked over my shoulder at him, giving him a hopeful glance.

'Just… just _let_ _me_, okay? I know what I'm doing.'

'Well _I_ don't. You're messing up my schedule, you runt.' the Dutchman muttered – but shut up when he saw my impatient frown growing bigger on my forehead… and stepped back.

Okay.

O-okay.

I in- and exhaled slowly and turned to all the nations, strange people and possible wedding crashers in the church, crumpling the papers in my hands a little bit as I felt my courage sink _straight_ into my shoes the very _minute_ I felt all those wondering and expectant eyes staring at me.

Then I felt a encouraging little pat on my back.

And a quiet whisper near my ear.

'Go on, my love…'

…

…

…a-and all of a sudden, my mouth opened on its own and before I knew it, I was…

…talking.

**XxX**

'H-hi, ummm… people.

So… yeah, I know it's actually Antonio's turn now to read his vows to me and such, but… well, I'm going to read them in his place.

His vows to _me_, I mean.

Because…

…

…m-my own vows… the ones I had written for him…

T-they're too embarrassing. For me. To read out loud. In front of all you… staring persons.

I mean, come on, pouring out all your love for a man on paper and then reading them out loud in front of a hundred people of which you don't even know _half_…

That's just fucking _terrifying_.

As if writing them and telling it to him in _person _wasn't awkward enough already, dammit.

…

…s-so… that's why I'm reading _his_ vows to _me_… and he'll be reading _my_ vows to _him_.

And sure, I'm aware that reading out loud _his_ vows – with all of Antonio's sweet, slimy kindness dripping off, probably – is kind of scary as well, but at least they're _his _written words, not mine, so it's a bit less embarrassing than the other way around.

O-or something. I don't really know, I just think… I…

…

I think it's better this way.

I… I'm not… ready for _this_ level of… openness concerning my feelings for that stupid wonderful Spaniard yet, so… please bear with me.

I hope you understand that I'm just not ready for it yet, and that I—'

**xXx**

_Tap_.

Two hands suddenly landed on my shoulders – and I jumped a bit, looking behind me again.

Antonio stood there. Right behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his…

…h-his smile on his face. A very reassuring, calming one.

I still trembled from the shock, though.

'W-what are you doing?' I hissed.

'I think you can do it, Lovi.' he said.

'D-do what?'

'Read your own vows to me.'

I felt my face instantly lost its color. I felt my hands instantly started to shake.

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

'N-no, I can't, I can't, m-my plan, the weirdness—' I panted in a raspy voice, shaking my head.

Antonio laughed a bit and squeezed my shoulders lightly, soothingly.

'Yes, that's what those scribbles said as well – and you almost made me fall for it, too!~ But… Lovi, Lovi, silly Lovi of mine… you _really_ think you could make things even _more_ embarrassing for yourself _now_, now that you've confessed your incredible embarrassment in front of the entire church?'

I gaped at him.

He…

He actually had a point there, didn't he?

'…you think… that confession about me being terrified to show my feelings for you… was _more_ embarrassing?' I slowly said.

'Oh, I _know _that was more embarrassing. _Far_ more embarrassing.' Antonio confirmed merciless, nodding. 'I'd never dare to say a deep, deep fear I have out loud like that – I told you I'm a bad public speaker. I'd die, ahahaha!~'

…

I-I didn't know what to say.

Antonio did, though.

'You just hold up my vows a bit, Lovino, and I'll read them. I'll read them to everybody, to _you_, as I hold you, my love.'

'O-oh my god…' I mumbled, quivering like mad.

'I want you to _hear_ those written words coming from my lips, sweetie…' Antonio softly said as I reluctantly raised up the opened papers containing his vows a bit,

'…just as much as I want to hear all the sweet words you wrote coming from _your_ lips.'

'…o-oh my god…' I breathed out again.

His hands slid down my shoulders, over my arms, to my wrists, steadying them.

'That's it, hold them like this. Now trust me: embarrassing or not, you can _handle_ your vows, Lovino. Just like you can handle your feelings. Every honest little bit of them. You _know _you can. You just _proved_ you can. Right?'

…

…

Once again, I gulped down a very large, nasty, _cottony_ lump down my throat.

I couldn't convince myself to reply to him.

But I couldn't convince myself to stop him, either.

I simply didn't want to.

So I just let it all happen.

**xXx**

'My most beloved Lovino.

…

You heard that?

I called you Lovino, Lovino.

I could just as well have started these silly vows a bit differently. I could have started with calling you "my most beloved Lovi", or "my most beloved love", or even "my most beloved sweetie", but all those petnames seem to be so… _out of place_ right now.

No matter how much I love to give you embarrassing little names like these, there's still not a better way to address to you, _really _address to you, than by using your full, human first name.

Because I think it's a very nice name.

It's a name that's… very unusual.

Rare, even.

And strange.

Awkward.

Silly.

Unexpected.

Nice.

Surprising.

Friendly.

Funny.

Loving.

One of a kind.

Lovino.

…

It… it just has this very nice ring to it, you know?~

I mean…

You don't hear the name "Lovino" a lot these days. Pretty much… _never_, actually. Almost as if there's just one prototype of it. Just one person worthy enough to be called this name. Just one person that causes all the wonderful feelings that always bubble up inside of me when I hear this person's name.

Just one _Lovino_, really.

And… that's _you_, Lovino.

You're everything I just said.

You're so very unusual, rare, strange, awkward, silly, unexpected, nice, surprising, friendly, funny and loving.

And one of a kind.

You're so one of a kind.

You're so _Lovino_, Lovino.

…

You're… y-you're probably the most important person in my life, in my world, in my being, in my heart, to which I look up to. I feel so much love, admiration and respect for you, more than I have ever felt for anybody else.

Not because you ever forced me to feel this way.

Not because I ever forced _myself _to feel this way.

Not even because you are so much more admirable, _stronger_ than me, in so many ways.

No.

It's because you _let _me love admire and respect you.

It's because you have always_ been there_ for me.

But probably mostly…

…it's because you've always looked at _me_.

Just at _me_.

Not at the nation I represent.

Not at my bloody past.

Not at the faults I made or the scars I wear.

You're aware of them, though. Yes. Of all of my faults and flaws. You _know_ they are on me, in me, always with me, no matter where I go. You're fully aware of all of that. You've _always_ been.

B-but that never stopped you from wanting to be with me.

That never stopped you from noticing the normal man in me that I really, really _want_ to be.

A good, nice, kind person.

A person that can live, love and… try to do everything within his sometimes pathetic powers to make that one person, that one other man, that one Lovino…_ happy_.

I told you before, Lovino, but I'll tell you again:

Each and every day, my love, you _heal_ me. _Save_ me. _Warm_ me.

_Love_ me, L-Lovino.

E-each and every day, y-you _love _me.

Just a little bit more.

And that alone, that _one_ fact alone, knowing that a Lovino, _the _Lovino, loves me, is enough for me.

To love you more and more and more.

To admire, respect and cherish you more and more and more.

Until the end of times.

And beyond!~

…

A-anyway…

I want to thank you, my love.

Thank you for allowing me to spend the rest of my life together with you.

I love you, Lovino. I love you with all of my heart, soul and… a-and all that remains of me after you've taken away the heart and soul of me.

…

I-I know, it's probably all just body-junk after you've taken away the heart and soul anyway, but… but it loves you just as much, so… so don't throw it out! It loves you, it loves you dearly and it will always love you!

…

In short…

I promise you I'll be the best man, husband, friend, lover and soulmate you could ever possibly get, Lovino.

I _promise_ you, my love, my Lovi.

You don't have to promise me the same things, though.

I already _know_.

Forever yours,

Antonio.'

**xXx**

Like the rest of the people present in the large chamber, I remained very quiet after Antonio had finished that last sentence.

…

…

I-I…

…h-hell, I didn't dare to move, tremble or even breathe out, really.

Not even when Antonio let go of my wrists and let out a soft, slightly embarrassed laugh, what indirectly seemed to indicate that he, as a matter of fact, really _was_ finished reading out his vows.

But it still stayed very quiet. _Respectfully _quiet. _Pleasantly _quiet.

I kind of liked it.

Very tranquil. Very peaceful.

Very let-me-mentally-repeat-all-those-words-again.

Very would-it-be-very-impropriate-if-I-just-cry-and-jump-in-his-arms-right-now, even.

…

…

F-fuck that, I-I was already doing the first stupid thing a-anyway…

Then, the weird, fuzzy atmosphere was suddenly cut in tiny little pieces by the heavy, boorish voice of a nation formerly known as Netherlands.

'Yeah? You're done rambling, old man?'

…

_GAH!_

The unforgivable bluntness named Nethrusmany - it strikes _**again**_!

Antonio didn't seem very impressed, though, and just nodded a bit.

'I'm done, yes.'

The blond man now huffed.

'Oh. Well, about time. _Next_.'

The Dutchman made a swift heel-turn and briskly wandered over to Germany and Feliciano, completely ignoring us for the time being.

…

He couldn't have picked a better moment, really.

Because… while Netherlands started instructing Germany ('Please don't linger on the vows as much as those other two fags just did. Try to keep up with the schedule, will you. I'm getting fed-up with this whole wedding-circus and I want to have a damn smoke already.')…

…I-I decided to stare at Antonio with an expression, an emotion, a _feeling_ on my face that I can't really place and that I probably won't _ever_ be able to place, too.

…b-but I think it had a lot to do with Antonio's vows.

And the wonderfulness of them.

And their secret evil ability to make my hands wordlessly grip Antonio's hands so very tightly, with some sort of happy desperation, that it actually hurt.

Painful, desperate happiness.

…

Yeah.

That pretty much sums up how I felt right now, y-yes…

Antonio firstly didn't notice everything I was doing/expressing/feeling and continued to nod and smile uneasily yet gratefully to the (oh screw it, might as well give the crowd a suitable name) audience, whose… _participants_ were collectively giving him a thumbs-up and even mouthed "Well done!" to him.

'Looks like they liked my vows, Lovi!~' he then whispered to me, not directly looking me in the eyes yet.

'It looks like it.' I muttered just as quietly back.

He finally turned his head to look my way.

'Hey, Lovi, did _you_-'

Antonio instantly stopped talking for a bit when he saw my face, which was kind of amusing. Because when he decided to end the sentence anyway, the sudden flip of feelings made the rest of it end in some sort of breathy gasp.

'…like my vows… too…'

'Yes.' I was quick to answer. 'Y-yes, I liked your vows, too…'

'Really?' Antonio's voice softened a little bit more. 'What part of them did you like the most?'

'The beginning, the middle part and the ending.' I said.

'…s-seriously?'

'Yes.'

'So you're saying you liked… _everything_?'

'I liked everything and more about them.'

'E-everything and more?'

I nodded in all sincerity. 'E-everything and more…'

'Th-that's a lot of… things you liked about them…'

'Y-yes…'

'I-I'm glad, Lovino…'

Antonio smiled, so honestly, bashfully and excitedly, that his usual big and expressive eyes became small and squinty, just because of the way the corners of his mouth radically bended upwards all of a sudden.

I wanted to do things when I noticed that smile.

I wanted to do so, _so _many things.

'I-I really want to do things now…' I therefore started stammering at him, '…things that can make you feel… wh-what _I'm _feeling right now, b-but I don't know how to do them. I really don't know how to do them.'

'Ah…' Antonio chuckled. 'I was already wondering why you were squeezing my hands to mush.'

'O-oh. Sorry.' I mumbled, cheeks rosy and flustered.

He determinedly shook his head.

'Don't be sorry. Squeeze all you want, my love.'

I crushed my lips together. 'I-it really is all I know to do right now…'

'It's more than enough, Lovino.'

'I-I really liked your vows, dammit…'

'Thank you.'

'I-I really like _you_, dammit…'

'That can come in handy.'

Emotionally touched by his vows or not, I still had to let out a soft little snicker.

'…w-way to ruin the mood, dumbass…'

Antonio grinned playfully, leant to me and kissed me. Just a bit.

'I don't need a _mood_. I have _you_, Lovino.' I heard him mumble when he slowly backed off again.

I made a sobbing kind of sound and pulled one of his arms closer to wipe my once again leaking eyes.

'O-oh, can it.'

'I love you.'

'Shut up. I love you too. Don't make me rub snot all over you.'

Antonio just smiled.

**xXx**

Don't ask me what Germany's vows were all about, because I honestly don't have the faintest idea.

They probably were about Feliciano. And potatoes. And Feliciano and potatoes and how magical the combination Feliciano-potatoes was. I mean, both Feliciano and Prussia (yes_, _PRUSSIA) were smiling and crying like fucking babies as Germany stuttered and sputtered his vows, and the audience looked pretty impressed as well, so yeah, I guess the German macho man, did a great job at publicly broadcasting his feelings for my younger brother as well.

But like I already told you: I really don't know. I didn't pay attention during Germany's speech.

I was too busy acting wussy with Antonio.

…

Well _sure_, I could have said something else, something more masculine, maybe, but this is the truth, really.

I was acting very, _very_ wussy.

But maybe I actually wasn't acting wussy.

Maybe I should give this kind of behavior a better name already.

…

_Happy_.

…

Yeah. Happy.

I was acting happy.

…

I could get used to this behavior.

It wasn't that unfamiliar to me to begin with, anyway.

**xXx**

By the time Germany's speech ended, Prussia had begun drying his eyes to Japan's vest and Feliciano's face had become so dramatically happy that he, like me, just didn't know what to do with himself and ended up grinning and crying and squeezing his almost-husband's hands to mush out of sheer unexplainable blissfulness.

Also, by the time Germany's speech ended, my hands had started to become sweatier and sweatier – I couldn't even hold Antonio's anymore because of it, dammit.

But I had a reason to have sweaty palms.

Since it was _my_ turn to read out the vows now.

_My_ vows. Not even Antonio's, like I had originally _planned_ to, but my _own_.

I had to read them out loud. All of them.

Every. Whiny. Embarrassing. Cutesy. Little. Word.

…

…

I was _so_ going to die.


	75. Breech

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Guess what's starting in a couple of months again?  
__The Eurovision Songfestival!  
__The gayest European festival EVER! In every sense of the word! _8DDDDD  
_And my country, who hasn't been a finalist but a proud loser that's always ending last, rock bottom last even, for **years**, is joining in the madness again! We'll never learn! Yay!  
__This year, we'll send in a young woman who can sing very beautifully, but will probably dress herself like an Indian when she's going to Azerbaijan for the Festival.  
__Why.  
__Why.  
__Why, Joan, why.  
__Can't you just sing your song nice and quietly? Why do you have to dress yourself like a FREAKING Indian! WHY, WOMAN!  
__That's what desperate Dutch interviewers wanted to know of her as well.  
__Her answer?  
_'_I think it's fun.'  
_…_yeah, good song or not, I better go mentally prepare myself already on yet another major loss for the Netherlands._

_A/n2: The last chapters were/are so goddamn sugary, I'm thinking my brain is slowly turning into chocolate pudding. Have you been puddingfied from the sentimental, dramatic mountains of fluff already?  
__No?  
__RESPECT, BBY.  
__Survive THIS chapter and I'll raise up a statue for you.  
__In my head. In the shape of pudding. CHOCOLATE pudding. YUM.  
__*runs away cackling* _

_A/n3: Isn't this a very nice chapter title as well? Breech. Yup. According to some sources, breech can be a synonym of butt as well. Somehow.  
__It amazes me how I still manage – with a lot of help from some of you wonderful readers – to come up with all these romantic butt-songs.  
__I mean, I have almost 80 chapters, people. Shouldn't the butt-synonyms-box be… **empty** already?  
__Not that I complain. Hell, the more butt-names, the better._^^

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXV:

_**The Breech  
**__**(Swat-Squad & Maetrik)**_

While I was trying to think of happy mental images/visions that _didn't_ involve me, suddenly _dissolving_ during the reading-out my vows for Antonio (like _pppphsssoooww_), a familiar voice broke through my panicky mist of Too Many Thoughts.

'Okay. Here you go, Lovi.'

It was Antonio – and he smiled reassuring as he calmly reached out the folded papers containing my vows to me.

I stared at the papers. Then I looked up and stared at the Spaniard, twisting and pursing and wiggling my lips and eyebrows like I was trying really hard to avoid bursting into tears or something like that.

'I-I'm fucking _scared_, Antonio.' I heard myself croak out all of a sudden.

Antonio's smile faltered a bit, his facial expression becoming more worried.

'You're scared? Why?'

'B-because!' I hissed under my breath, snatching my vows out of his hands like they were nasty insects I had to… swat away or something, '…t-the whole damn _world _is here to watch me fail… and I think I'm going to be sick… and _gah_, I-I'm going to make a complete damn _fool_ out of myself, d-dammit…'

'You're still on that?' Antonio asked, sounding surprised, 'I thought you'd realize by now that you really can't make yourself look any more ridiculous than you made yourself look half an hour ago.'

I looked at him, my jaw dropping a bit.

'Unless you try really hard, that is.' he concluded with a stupid grin.

'Wow.' I nodded slowly. 'Thanks, Antonio. That helps. Thanks to your inspiring pep talk, I now feel like I can blow away the entire audience and, _fuck_ _it_, entire _kingdoms_ with my _mindboggling_ vows.'

Antonio's eyes grew bigger in amazement. 'You _really_ feel _that_ confident now, Lovi?'

I groaned.

'_**No**_, you big _**moron**_, I now actually feel like… like fucking _sealing_ myself into that church-wall over there in order to avoid myself from doing and saying even _more _embarrassing things! Than I! Already just did!'

He made a face. 'But I told you, you actually _can't_ embarrass yourself even mo—'

'_**Dammit**_** Antonio, don't you know me at all.**'

Then, out of the blue, the Netherlands poked a finger against the back of my head.

'Hey, Romano?'

'**Netherlands**?' I _howled_, still in that loud voice, turning around.

'Yeah, hi. What's up. Hey, in case you didn't know yet, you're up next.' the Dutchman informed me.

'**I **_**did**_** know!**'

'Whoa, take it easy. I'm standing next to you, Romano, you don't have to embarrass yourself by shouting all hysterical and stuff.'

'**WHAT**! **I'm** _**not**_— ugh, I mean… s-shut up!'

As the Netherlands shrugged and walked away again, beginning Part Three of his speech that probably explained to the crowd in the church that I was going to do my vows now (he had done it for Antonio and Germany too, after all), I wasted the last few minutes before my epic humiliation would unfold in front of _**the entire universe**_ to shaking and trying to fold open my vows.

Fuck – and now I was involuntarily busy ripping them apart.

D-damn you d-damn hands and fingers and fingernails, s-stop m-moving in s-so many directions already, d-dammit…

'Lovino?' Antonio then said.

'_What_!' I nagged as I abruptly jolted my head up – but lost all of my snark- and snappiness when my soon-to-be-husband collected my tense, boiling-hot face in his hands and pulled it _so_ closely to his, that our noses bumped.

I huffed but let him, thinking he wanted to say something "calming" to me again, but he suddenly closed his eyes, tilted his head a bit and kissed me full on the lips, what would make this the _third_ time he kissed me during the ceremony before was actually supposed to kiss me.

_Hey! That's not the meaning of this ceremony, you can't just kiss me to your heart's content whenever you feel like kissing me, you selfish Spanish jerk! _I heard a very shrilly voice complain in the back of my head, but the longer the gentle, yet persistent kiss lasted, the more I relaxed and the less audible the shrilly voice became.

What a nice kiss it was.

No tongue, though.

…

I'd have liked some tongue.

…

Wh-what the crap am I saying.

After a few seconds, Antonio's lips released mine again and he pulled back just a little bit, smiling fondly at me as his thumbs drew little squiggly circles on my cheeks.

'…did _this_ help, Lovi?'

'H-help with what!' I grumbled, licking my still somewhat moist lips.

'Calming you down.'

I frowned, but had to be honest – and nodded.

'…y-yeah, it helped.'

Antonio chuckled, carefully moving his hands up to brush some stupid, loose strands of hair from my forehead, caressing the side of my face as he did so.

'Hey, Lovi?'

'Y-yes?'

'Don't be scared, okay?'

He moved his face closer again and looked at me so damn _sweetly_, I swore I couldn't feel anything below the belt anymore. I even started to wonder if there still _was_ something below my belt.

'You don't need to be scared, my love…' Antonio said, '…_I_ should be.'

'Y-_you_?'

He nodded, looking so endearingly earnest, it was almost _unbearable_.

'Yes, of _course_! You think _I_ feel like breaking down in tears again in front of all those nations and unknown people as soon as you start talking?'

'No.'

'No. But I'm still going to do that.'

Antonio sighed, but smiled immediately after.

'…that's just what your vows will probably do to me, sweetie. Like your regular words, they'll touch me. They'll overwhelm me. They'll make me feel special and loved and very, very awkward. But in a good way.'

I felt flattered and smiled a little bit at him.

'…s-shut up. My vows are crap. W-way too s-sweet and all. T-they'll probably fall out of my hands and melt into a puddle of sugar halfway anyway…'

It was wonderful to see his cheeks flush like that.

'…oh, y-you were _that_ loving and praising about me, Lovi?...'

'…y-you'll hear for yourself…' I muttered, coyly looking away from him.

Antonio _shuddered_.

'…y-you really didn't hold back, did you...'

'I-I think I overdid it…'

'Lovino, st-stop it.'

'I just… just couldn't stop writing about you…' I softly blabbered on.

'L-Lovi… I… _god_, I love you so much…'

'J-just too many good things about you… wish I was lying, but I-I'm actually being very honest here…'

'I swear to God, Lovino, I _will_ jump on you if you don't _stop_ being so very honest.'

'You want to kiss me, don't you?' I laughed, half-bashfully, half-teasingly.

Antonio hesitated. 'Um, can I do that _and _hug you?~ 'Cause that's what I'd like to do right now. Kiss and hug you. Really badly.'

I chuckled, but shook my head and purposely leant back when he leant forwards.

'Naah, no can do. Also: kiss and hug me – what _are_ you, a _kid_?'

Antonio pouted, but didn't stop me. He sadly dropped his arms to his sides as I backed off more and more, creating some more in-between us space for my vows – because we all know how very important it is to create some damn space in-between your lover and you for reading out your vows, after all.

'You're _mean_.' I heard the Spaniard huff.

'Oh yeah, well, you're _sweet_.' I stated.

I bit back another smile as I saw his face darken in a very reddish color again and pretended I hadn't seen it as I waited the Netherlands to end his speech.

Oh, stupid, stupid Antonio. What a dumb, naïve dork you are.

…

…th-thanks for the mental support, darling.

You really are sweet.

You deserve to know that.

I'll read my vows to you.

Any day, anytime.

_Anywhere_.

**XxX**

'Okay.

I have some good news, dear people and nations.

We're officially _halfway _the vows-reading right now. With Spain and Germany behind us, only Romano and Veneciano's vows are left to endure.

Enjoy, I mean.

You may cheer.

…

Well.

Up next is Romano. Also known as South Italy. Also known as Lovino Vargas. Also known as "that other Italy".

I could go on forever, really.

...

Now. I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking: "wow, that little runt sure has a lot of aliases." And you're right. He has a lot of aliases.

That's because he's a wanted criminal **in fifty different countries!**

…

No, just kidding – don't hiss at me like that, Romano. It was just a joke. _Geez_.

Anyway.

Romano's vows. Here they come.

…

Better brace yourselves.

**xXx**

…I was _so_ going to fucking _murder _that pothead-asshole one day.

But there's a time and place for everything, and my instincts were subtly telling me that time and place wasn't now or here.

Because I should be reading my vows now, which I was very much going to do now.

So I opened my vows.

…

…

_Fuck_.

Oh crap. I had totally forgot about… _that_.

'…erm…'

Feeling very uncomfortable, I looked into the direction of the Netherlands, who blankly looked back.

'Something wrong, Romano?'

'Just one last question…'

'I don't take last requests.'

'A last QUESTION, Netherlands. Not last _re_quest. Ion. Requestion. Or… or _whatever_ you thought I was saying.'

'Just get on with it already, Romano. I intend to marry you four dopes _today_.'

'Fine. Am I…' I frowned and scraped my teeth over my bottom lip really quickly, '…d-do I have to read out loud… _everything_?'

The Dutchman thought about my question very carefully.  
For about a fucking_ split-second_.

'Describe "_everything_", Romano.'

'…well… it's pretty… lengthy…' I explained. 'And do I also have to read the weird scribbles and… practicing-thingies and… a-and rants I wrote… like… reading them out _loud_?'

'That depends. Are they silly and embarrassing and even kind of harsh on…well, _Spain_, sometimes?'

'Kind of.'

'Then _**yes**_.'

'…'

'Good luck, my friend.'

'Oh _shut_ _up_.'

And without giving my overactive brain any more opportunities to start panicking again, I _instantly_ started reading my vows.

All of them.

Out loud.

**xXx**

'U-um…

…

…um… okay… I-I guess I should just begin from the start, right…

O-okay…'

(_Ahem_)

'…h-hello Antonio.

Be…because writing vows is a lot more difficult than I thought, here's a little… w-warming-up practice for me in order to… loosen up a bit on all the words that are in my head now, but supposed to be on the paper near the end of these pages…

S-so here goes:

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

…

N-now, I know it might seem like all these sentences were… exactly the same. I know it must look like there… th-there wasn't any special effort in writing them out like this at all.

B-but.

B-but you should know how… h-how _hard _it was for me to write down that first "I love you"… and…

…a-and how much easier it was… to write down the last "I love you".

…

Y-you get used to it, you know?

Writing "I love you". Saying "I love you".

_Feeling_ I love you.

W-without those stupid quotation points.

…

The more you write them, say them and feel them, the less difficult it becomes to realize you actually really… _mean_ those three little words. And that there's nothing scary or embarrassing about meaning them.

However, I-I should tell you… I still feel… extremely uneasy as I write this, A-Antonio, so… please don't be confused whenever you see the words I love you popping up again later on in these vows, because that's all part of the practice.

I love you.

I-I've come from… a _very_ long way. To be able to… share these feelings I have for Antonio now, on this l-lovely day.

I still have ways to go. I know that. I still need to work on my… well… I don't know what it's called, but it involves being honest about my feelings towards others – but mostly towards myself and the persons I really care about.

I love you.

But… although I still need… some more time to… express myself even clearer, and although I still need to ask you for just a little bit more patience… it's already a lot better than how it used to be. How _I _used to be.

A-and… a-and that's… mainly thanks to _you_, Antonio.

Because you were the first person that… th-that… th-that actually… showed he _cared _about me.

…

…y-yes, I know, Feliciano cares about me as well. And Grandpa Rome… I'm absolutely sure he cared about me as well. On his own, eccentric way.

That's what I know for sure.

_Now_, that is.

But I _didn't_ know that back _then._

B-back then, wh-when I was still a kid, I…

…g-god, I felt like the loneliest piece of _crap_ on earth.

I felt like nobody cared about me. Like nobody looked at me – just my wealthy inheritance from my grandfather. Like… well… like I was the bad version of Feliciano, really.

I felt neglected.

Unworthy.

Useless.

Pathetic.

…

I-it… it is no fun when you feel all these depressing feelings before even hitting puberty – heck, before hitting decent _childhood_.

It _really_ isn't fun.

It's terrible.

And scary.

And there was just one thing I could do within my might to protect myself against the hard, outside world that, divided in several powerful nations, was busy conquering shit and taking in all the younger nations…

Shunning them all out.

Building a mental wall around myself to… to avoid myself from getting physically and psychologically hurt too much whenever I was conquered by yet another bossy European country.

…

And that went well.

So I kept doing it.

My wall became thicker and broader and higher.

My emotions and frustrations about myself and the… t-the desperate need f-for kindness, affection and love were all carefully stashed far, far away inside of me, never to be shown.

I became, well, a very mean, nasty, annoying little asshole.

But hey. Nobody cared about me anyway – why should I care about _them_? Two could play that game. _Fuck_ them.

Thanks to this unhealthy, bitter way of thinking about the world, I already knew for sure that nobody would ever get to see – or feel the need to see – the little boy hidden within me, behind all that selfish, snappy, uncaring exterior.

I already was _so_ _very_ _**sure**_ of everybody's selfishness – and I hadn't even reached the human age of, say, five, six years old yet.

…

…

A-and then _you_ suddenly came along, A-Antonio.

And, you know what, you were just as big as a _fucking evil bastard_ as all those other fucking evil bastards.

Mean _jackass_.

You even wanted to _trade _me for Feliciano because I didn't do shit in your House and tended to… u-um… attract squirrels into the bedroom that pissed on everything (but for some reason they always preferred _my_ bed and sheets, those dirty rat-like fuckers).

Yeah, some good fucking parental figure you were, Antonio. Nurture? What's nurture? Just grab that broom and clean my insanely big House already, you tiny six-year-old!

God, did I hate your _guts_ in the beginning.

…

…then again, I hated _everybody's _guts. And, admittedly, I was quite a handful. Austria must have been overjoyed that he could dump me at your place as soon as he saw his chance. And _boy_, were you upset you got the worse half of Italy.

But…

…

Th-there… there just was something strange about you.

Something stupid. Something dumb. But mostly something stupid. Something so very stupid.

You weren't like all the other bad nation-bosses I had before.

B-because after realizing (_somehow-_realizing, GOD knows how-realizing) how lonely and sad I actually was… h-how _awful_ I felt about always being compared with my younger, more talented brother…

…y-you never thought about giving up on me again.

…

…y-you… you just didn't give up.

I don't know why you didn't. You just _didn't_.

Stubborn prick.

A-and… after spending more time with you, I… I noticed you were… actually beginning to… _like me_. To _care _about me. To save and protect me from (former) assholes like Turkey and France. To…

T-to…

…

…w-well, you were beginning to _love_ me, Antonio…

Th-the kind of love all kids- no, all living _people_, human or not, long for:

Unconditional, parental love.

That's what it pretty much how this kind of affection towards me felt like, I guess… n-not that I could tell from experience, but still…

I-it felt like love. Like you really loved me.

And I could tell you really _did_.

No matter how annoying and useless I was. No matter how much I tried to shun you out. No matter how many insults I threw at your head.

You kept coming closer to me.

You kept on crumbling down my mental wall.

Piece by piece, a little bit of wall would go down, each and every time you smiled that gentle smile at me or patted me on the head, or said to me how much I meant to you, or told me how good it would be for me if I would just be more honest about my feelings…

It was so confusing to me.

It was so very confusing to me.

Your behavior towards me.

That weird, strange feeling known as _security_.

Seeing your face light up in delight whenever my ugly frown and I walked around the corner.

Feeling _my own face _light up in delight whenever I saw _yours_.

I just didn't get it.

…

…b-but I liked it.

It was a bit scary, this new, happy feeling… but I liked it.

So, _so_ much.

…

I love you.

…

…

W-well.

When I became older, I returned to Italy and to my brother Feliciano.

But even after I reached this particular individual stage, we somehow never lost contact – and we, more or less, continued to see each other.

…

But things… had started to change.

Our _relationship_ had started to change.

Now that we were the same human age, save for a year or two, three, we started to develop a more friendship-like relationship.

…

That was nice.

Y-you're a very good friend to have, Antonio. No wonder Prussia and France are so positive about you most of the time, in spite of the standard fights the three of you used to have back in the past.

While being your friend, I discovered you weren't only extremely dense, naive and stupid, but also… very _loyal_. Kind. Honest. Caring.

And…

…

…r-really handsome and sweet, really…

…

I began to feel different when being around you.

And the silliest thing was… I felt like I had felt these weird, bubbly emotions before, because…

…

I love you.

…

…because, well… even when I was still a child, I sometimes had these indescribable sparks of happiness shooting through my veins whenever you were around.

I couldn't really place them, but they made me feel giddy and uneasy and oh, _**very**_ moody, and I decided not to pay too much attention to them, since they were probably the results of something bad I ate that day, or just my "natural" feelings of hate for the Idiot Tomato Bastard, yadayada…

…however… now that I had become older… I-I slowly started to realize that…

…

That I was falling in love with you.

Hopelessly. Oh so very hopelessly.

…

…

I-I could probably spend entire _days_ sharing the entire story with the audience about… how you and I eventually hooked up and got together, Antonio, but… naaah, that's a whole other story…

Anyway, the most important thing was: you turned out to have fallen for me as well. So we confessed our feelings to each other, we decided to give our relationship yet another upgrade, and we started dating.

There. Just like that.

I love you.

…

Dating you was…

…

I… _god_… dating you was… well…

_Wonderful_.

Y-you were, and still _are_, so very kind and giving towards me…

Showering me with affection, with compliments, endearments, petnames, hugs, kisses, warmth… b-but mostly with _love_.

All the love inside of you.

_All_ of it.

Which is a _lot_.

And I don't _care_ how much you sometimes whine about how you were "not able to love" before meeting me – s-_screw_ that, you sure as _fuck_ were able to love, you damn jerk!

Starting from the very first day, you never hesitated about showing me how much you loved me!

Regardless of your own insecurities, you never _doubted_ for a _second_ to go for me!

A-also, you just never gave me_ a damn __**break**_!

You _still _don't!

When I'm upset and want to be alone and bark at you to let me the fuck alone, you stay with me and cheer me up _anyway_!

You stupid _jerk_!

When I'm scared or afraid and want to hide and disappear in the darkness, I just _know_ you'll come over and push me into the light and make me feel all better again!

You damn _ass_!

When I'm feeling happy and trying to hide it from you, you still see it! You still see the smile I'm repressing, still hear the chuckle I'm holding back, still sense the need I have to be touched and hold!

You dumb _shitface_!

Where is all this patience coming from!

Why are you so _sweet_ to me!

Why are you so _loving_ to me!

Why do you take me as I am!

_Why_!

I love you.

…

…

A-and w-when…

When I'm trying to… act tougher, braver, stronger than I really am of feel… you just… j-just…

…w-wordlessly… pull me to your chest, w-waiting for me to just… g-give in to… w-whatever emotions were causing havoc inside of me…

…a-always so very gentle, so careful with me… always knowing what to say, or do… or _not _say or do…

…

…y-you… b-bastard…

I love you.

Your outside. Inside. Good parts. Bad parts. Weird parts.

The parts that I have discovered about you over the past few months – thanks to a colorful bunch of very helpful, respectful and incredibly supportive nations.

The parts that I might still _have_ to discover about you.

All these parts make _you_.

And I love _you_.

I love you.

I love you…

…

I-I really love you…

_God_ do I love you…

…

…

T-there… really is… n-no ending to the… need to say these words… and the need to repeat these words to you over and over again, j-just to see your eyes sparkle… and feel your smile set my heart on fire, just like the very first time… you had this effect on me…

…

…I could go on like this forever, telling you about all the emotions I feel when being with you…

But I won't.

I'm going to end these vows now.

I can't wait to continue living with you.

I-I really am ending them now.

M-my sunshine, my darling, my everything, my Antonio.

I-it's the end of my vows, really.

I love you.

…

…y-yeah, that last I love you really _was_… the easiest.

F-forever… a-and ever… y-yours…

…

…L-Lovi.'

**xXx**

…

…

…a-alright, I did it…

I had actually done it.

I had read out my vows to EVERYBODY _**GAH**_.

…

…a-and to Antonio.

_Mostly _to Antonio.

…

By the way, regardless of what all the others might think of them, I myself liked the way my vows had turned out a _lot_.

…n-no matter how much I was lingering on looking up from the crushed pages in my hands r-right now.

Yeah, my vows were long and rambling. Yeah, I realize I should probably have put a lot less background information about Antonio and myself in them. And sure, I think I didn't need to share all of the really personal stuff in them with the rest of the world, either…

Also, maybe I went a bit overboard with all the I love you's.

…

I really _did _go overboard with those damn I love you's, didn't I?

I mean, my vows weren't even that sappy, they were pretty honest and _cool_, even, and then I just needed to… scatter these three little cutesy words allllll over them, just because I…

…

…j-just because I really, really want to say them to Antonio. As much as I can.

Huh.

…

Okay.

Well, I guess that's fine with me.

It _feels_ like it's fine with me, so… yeah…

But would Antonio think so, too?

…

Oh god.

…

N-not sure if I dared to look him in the eyes right now…

I-I was too anxious about what his reaction would be…

Oh, I-I know nothing bad would be seen in his eyes – hell, if I knew him just as well as I _thought_ I knew him, he'd probably be _bawling_ his eyes out in silence right now – but _still_… I was feeling rather… embarrassed and nervous.

…

…

…oh _fuck it_, I couldn't continue to stare at my tattered vows _forever_, right…

I gulped and looked up – and even though I had thought my internal reflecting had lasted for, well, _minutes_, it turned out I had thought all of these thoughts a lot quicker than expected (probably the magic that's feeling excited and anxious at the same time), because I was fast to notice I was _still_ exhaling that last, shivering breath I had taken when reading the last word of my vows.

…

…a-and that exhalation only became softer and slower as I my eyes met Antonio's.

Teary ones.

…

Antonio's eyes sure were teary again.

…

Damn. We sure have been crying a _lot _today, haven't we.

Oh well…

I grinned stupidly at the Spaniard with the trembling lower lip as I hastily put away my vows and gave the (very _pissed_-looking) Netherlands a nod – which was universally known as the "yup I'm finally done please continue with the ceremony also don't kill me" –nod, but I'm sure all you know that.

'…i-i-it was kind of long, huh?' I then randomly blabbered to Antonio in a soft voice – didn't want to feel the wrath of Nethrusmany again, _especially_ not now he was doing the Feliciano-speech – and I…

…god, I-I just couldn't get that damn smile of my face as I looked at Antonio's speechless expression and nonchalantly crept a little closer to him, feeling brave enough to reach out to his two hands and take a resolute hold of them.

'…hey, d-did you like my vows, Antonio?'

He didn't say anything, but he nodded, a small but adorable smile starting to curl upwards around his lips. I also felt his hands gripped mine somewhat tighter.

'Yeah? You… didn't think they were too… awkward, or too personal?' I asked.

Antonio shook his head, still smiling so very _frustratingly _adorable. I noticed he was blushing and shuddering, too.

I bit my lip and chuckled quietly.

'…a-are you just going to keep on grinning at me like that for the rest of the day?'

At first it seemed like Antonio was going to answer by giving me a nod or a shake of the head, but in the end, after taking a deep, raspy breath, he actually attempted to say something… that eventually came out as a gentle, careful laugh.

'…ah, silly Lovi… it's kind of hard to speak when your heart's on the verge of bursting from sheer… h-happiness…'

'H-happiness, huh…' I repeated, muttering, '…I'm delighted to hear that… I-I was aiming for that kind of happiness, y-you see…'

'You aimed well.'

'Oh, b-but… you _sure_ you didn't mind all the less wonderful things I said about y—'

'Lovi, you told me all your honest feelings for me throughout the years we have been together.'

Antonio laced our finger together and gave me an even sweeter, more loving smile.

'…such honest feelings… those are nothing_ but_ wonderful things to me, Lovino… especially since there was a very happy conclusion to them… a very happy feeling… at the end…'

'Y-yeah?...' I mumbled, shyly allowing him to kiss my cheeks, nose and forehead over and over again.

'Oh yes… oh yes oh yes oh yes, my love…' he whispered in between the kisses, '…I… god, I've never heard anything sweeter, more honest and more amazing coming from your mouth… well, _today_, that is.'

I sighed, enjoying the small kisses and nips.

'…m-must have been the I love you's, right…'

'What, are you telling me there were I love you's hidden in your vows, Lovi?'

'Shut up.' I smiled.

'Why, I barely noticed them!~' he smirked.

'Shut _up_, you ass.'

'_Make_ me.'

I snickered softly, flushing as always as I lifted my face up a bit and cheekily pecked him on the lips.

'…well, I-I'm happy. Th-that you liked my vows. And that you're here with me. Doing this. That really, really makes me happy.'

'Me too.' Antonio said, squeezing our hands.

All of a sudden, I heard the audience started clapping their hands – and when I looked away from Antonio for just a second, I saw that everybody in the chamber was looking at Feliciano and Germany with glossy, misty eyes, applauding and cheering so loudly, I thought the windows of the church would break:

'Oh _my_, that was just _beautiful_, dear!~'

'You, like, _rock_, Veneciano!'

'Hahahaha! You'll be the perfect wife, man!'

'This is the most bizarre play I've ever seen!'

I frowned a bit when seeing that, and I frowned even more when I saw Germany _throwing _himself into Feliciano's arms – _what_, don't fucking _crush_ him, you fat bastard! – but I wasn't frowning for too long.

So what if he got the loudest applause again. He's the most creative of the two of us, he deserves an ovation like this, dammit.

'Aww…' Antonio let out a disappointed groan. '…looks we missed Feli's vows as well. That's too bad. And pretty impolite, too. Ahahaha… Better apologize to them later…'

I nodded, staring at my brother, who was laughing and crying at the same time again.

'Yeah. I hate to admit it, but I'd also have liked to hear his vows.'

Antonio glanced at me. 'Would you?'

'Sure. I mean, it must have been pretty fantastic if you see all the people sit, clap and cheer like that…'

'Your vows were better.'

I laughed. 'You're only saying that because you're pretty much the representation of all that's stupid and perfect.'

'No, I'm _serious_, Lovi. Yours were _better_.' Antonio said in all honesty, without losing his straight face. 'Feli's vows must have been pretty good, yes, but the audience gave _you _a _standing _ovation. You didn't hear that? You were _better_, sweetie.'

I stared at him.

'…is that true?'

He smiled again, his eyes twinkling.

'My heart almost _burst_, Lovino…'

Oh.

…

That…

That was all the confirmation I needed, really.

**xXx**

Anyway…

With the vows being behind us and all, the ending of the wedding ceremony was actually coming to an end.

Slowly, but surely.

Antonio had said his things.

Germany had said his things.

I had said my things.

Feliciano had said his things.

And the Netherlands had said…

…

…all kinds of things, really.

But he hadn't said _all _of his things yet.

…

In other words, there wasn't much left for the Netherlands to do right now than… giving us the last part of his _extremely_ authentic, made-up wedding speech.

And after that…

After that…

…

…g-god, I already felt all f-fuzzy and tingly inside w-when I just thought about it…

…

Alright.

I was ready for it.

_More_ than ready.

And I think he must have sensed that, because the _moment_ I thought this, the Netherlands abruptly started talking again.

**XxX**

'_Right_.

Dearly beloved people and others.

Thank you very much for finally shutting the crap up.

…

Oh. I shouldn't curse. Sorry for that.

…

Anyway.

I really am happy you're all quiet now.

Don't get me wrong: I'm pleased to notice you all loved these weirdoes' vows so much. I'm thrilled, even. It's nice to see that words of love and respect and mutual trust and loads of random stuttering and babbling can touch your hearts _so_ much that you actually need some tissues.

Of course, _I_ didn't _need_ tissues.

My arm-eating sleeves were good enough.

Feels like I'm wearing a giant hanky anyway.

…

But I digress.

So yeah, now that you all have shut up, I'd like to tell you all that the last part of this wedding ceremony is about to happen.

…

If you really think about it, you'll realize that it's actually already happening _now_, right as we speak, since I've been talking for over more than a minute already.

Thought it was fun to point that out.

My sweet revenge for making me wait on you.

…

…I'll continue with the last part of this ceremony now.

**Harrrruuummp**.

So.

Today, we've all seen, heard and experienced ourselves just how much these four nations, people and men in front of me love their significant other.

They've shown us how much it means for them to spend the rest of their lives together with the man they love, so…

…well, what's the damn use in making them wait any longer.

…

Rings, please.'

**XxX**

Right on cue, France and Femke – both with puffy eyes, red eyes and overjoyed smiles on their faces – clumsily stately took a step forwards and handed over the rings they had guarded **with their very **_**lives**_!

…

…well, maybe not, but I'd like to _think_ that they did, d-dammit. That makes it just a little bit more dramatic and epic.

A-and wonderful.

From the corners of my eyes, I saw Prussia (who was pretty much drowning in his own happy tears now) and Japan (who was trying to stand as far from Prussia as possible) gave their rings to Germany and Feliciano as well.

After seeing that, I knew enough and decided to turn my back on the four of them for the rest of the ceremony, because I'd rather focus all of my attention on Antonio at this point than I'd do…

…a-anything else, really…

…

Well…

As soon as he had given the ring to Antonio, France gave him a nod, a smile and a brotherly pat on the shoulders as he backed off to his original spot again.

'Go ahead and make South Italy officially _yours_ already, _Antoine_.' he smirked. 'You know I'll never give up yanking your chain otherwise.'

Antonio blushed and grinned.

'I-I will. Thanks, Francis.'

Femke did pretty much the same thing as France after she had given me the ring – only the brotherly pat on the shoulders was replaced by a sisterly pinch in my cheek.

'…and you know it, right, Lovino? Just call your Big Sis when you need me to come over and comfort you whenever your husband isn't able to. Then I'll make sure to smack some sense into _both_ of you, since you _shouldn't_ need me!' the Belgian woman warned me, moving to the background again.

I laughed a bit sheepishly.

'You could also just come over to _chat_, you know. But… thank you, Femke.'

Then I turned to look at Antonio.

…

…k-kind of weird and wonderful at the same time, seeing him standing goofily in front of me, holding my right hand with one hand while holding the small, silver ring in his other hand…

…oh, have to remember to slip _his_ ring on his _left_ ring finger…

…

Heh.

A-as if I was going to forget that…

When he saw Antonio and I were smiling all happily and excitedly and e-everything again, the Netherlands carried on.

**xXx**

'Now that all wedding participants have got their rings, I'd like to tell the rest of the people in this gigantic and very chilly room to pay attention at the part that comes now, because this might be a bit confusing.

But I'll explain.

Make notes of it if you feel like you'll need it.

I'll _firstly _ask Spain and Germany if Spain wants to marry Romano and if Germany wants to marry Veneciano.

Then, after Spain and Germany have answered me, I'll ask Romano and Veneciano if Romano wants to marry Spain and Veneciano wants to marry Germany.

…

It's textbook, really, only a bit differently.

…

After that, they can put on their rings and make out.

And then we can finally go outside to have a cigarette—I mean, start stuffing our faces.

…

Any questions?

No?

Then let's begin…'

**XxX**

'Spain and Germany.

Or: Antonio and Ludwig.

…

I would have said your last names as well, but I seem to have forgotten them all of a sudden.

My bad.

…

Anyway.

Antonio and Ludwig,

Do you promise to love, respect, honor, care and be good to your own unique flavor of Italian… which is _Romano_ for _you_, Spain, and _Veneciano_ for _you_, Germany, just in case you forgot… and do you promise to protect and be there for him until death forces you to part ways, or, maybe even _better_ put, until the end of times come?'

**xXx**

'I do. Naturally.' Antonio said.

'That goes for me as well. I-I do.' Germany said.

**XxX**

'Very well, I'll ask the same question to Romano and Veneciano.

Romano and Veneciano.

Or: Lovino and Feliciano Vargas.

…

What? Don't look so surprised, your last name was a lot easier to remember since you're brothers and stuff.

…

Lovino and Feliciano Vargas,

Do you promise to love, respect, honor, care and be good to your own unique flavor of somewhat older and slightly twisted men I'd like to punch… which is _Spain_ for _you_, Romano, and _Germany_ for _you_,Veneciano, just in case you forgot… and do you promise to protect and be there for him until death forces you to part ways, or until the end of times come, which really _is_ a lot more accurate sounding than the whole dead-thing?'

**XxX**

'…I-I do, of course…' I said.

'I do! Veee… I do I do I _do_!~' Feliciano said.

**xXx**

'Okay, that's nice. So it's mutual. How wonderful.

…

Then I guess I now pronounce Spain and Romano and Germany and Feliciano lawfully wedded husbands.

You may put on your rings and exchange saliva now.

…

Done.

If anybody looks for me, I'll be outside, smoking not-suspicious stuff.'

**xXx**

Antonio and I, and probably Feliciano and Germany as well, watched as the Dutchman briskly took a turn on his heels and marched off to one of the many still-remaining holes in the church-wall of the _Sagrada Familìa_.

'…okay, I think the Netherlands really bolted.' Antonio pointed out.

'He _did_.' I nodded.

'Also… I think we just got married.' the Spaniard carried on.

I smiled at him. 'We _did_.'

'W-we just got _married_!~'

Antonio beamed smile after smile at me, his eyes bigger, brighter and greener than ever, as the audience in the chamber began to cheer, laugh, shout felicitations and other things at us.

'I'm so happy!~ I'm so very happy now!~ I… I… oh my _**god**_, I haven't even put the ring on your finger yet! H-how's that possible! My husband's finger is still naked! H-hold still, I'll just… put this on your finger real quick, Lovino…'

'That's okay. Take your time. I-I still need to put your ring on your finger, too…'

It was kind of cute and adorable, seeing how much time it took Antonio to stop shaking and just shove that damn ring on my finger already.

And I, chuckling, blushing and making teasing remarks on how cute and adorable he looked and how cute and adorable he acted, certainly didn't make it any easier for him.

But he succeeded, of course, and proudly looked down at my banded ring finger for a second or two ('How about _that_! That's some pretty cool ringed finger there!~') before I grabbed his hand and, a lot more smoothly, slid the ring that was his on his ring finger.

Of his left hand, of course. I hadn't forgot.

'…th-there.' I softly said, after the small silver band sat on its rightful place, and looked up at Antonio.

Q-questioningly.

…

For _once_, I didn't have to explain to him what I was asking for… and I couldn't help but smile, blush and lift my face just a little bit more when Antonio placed his free hand behind me, on the small of my back.

He didn't waste any more time after that and gently pulled me closer, giving me that one kiss, the kiss I had been waiting for all this day, while his other hand, that wasn't free, held on to my own tightly.

Our fingers intertwining.

Our rings clicking.

…

…

I just got married.

And I had never felt so fucking happy before.


	76. Face

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Hey, have you heard? Greece is officially saved from bankruptcy... for now. _8DDDD  
_And there are several discussions in my nation going on about getting rid of the euro and going back to our old coin, the gulden.  
_…_yeeeaaaah.  
__Not sure what to think of all that.  
__The gulden was nice, but I like the euro. I mean, at this moment, I have a wallet filled with euros from the Netherlands, France, Spain, Germany (lots of Germany), Belgium (lots of Belgium) and Greece. You could say I now carry around a big part of Europe in my wallet (too bad I don't have Italian ones)…  
__If the Netherlands go back to the gulden, we'll all have the same boring coins from our own country in our wallets again.  
__I don't want that to happen.  
__And luckily, most Dutch people agree with me.  
__That's good._^^

_A/n2: Since you all seem to love it so very much and since I kind of enjoy myself as well when I'm writing these A/n's, let me tell you something funny about myself.  
__I… **paint my nails**. Or polish them. Or whatever the exact name for it is.  
__Anyway, my nails are never the same. I have different color each and every week.  
_…_except for this week, since the nail polish was one of a very good quality, so I wore it for two weeks. Woohoo!  
__The color I have now is orange, by the way. Verrrry flashy. I LOVE IT.  
__I think I'm going for a very hysterical color of green next week. And then I go to the kids I teach at school and rub the awesomeness of my nails in their faces.  
__I'm a sad, sad person.  
__By the way, my mom paints her nails as well, but she never picks flashy colors. She painted hers grey. And they really suit her, too._

_A/n3: Last week, after I updated chapter 75, I…  
_…_well, I went to work, as always. Because I work as a mail(wo)man on Saturdays.  
That's right, I'm always busy making money when I'm not writing. Call it the Dutch mentality (don't think I'm rich though, because I'm not – I just need to work a lot or else I can't pay all of my bills anymore).  
__So. Anyways.  
__I went working. And then I came back. And then I did a bunch of other stuff and then I went to bed.  
__And when I woke up on Sunday morning and decided to check my mail, I saw that I was BOMBED WITH REVIEWS OH GOD SO MANY GAAAAH WHAT WHAT.  
__Seriously – it blew me away. I already had almost 50 reviews, in **less** than a **day** time.  
__YOU GUYS. WHY. SO NICE. OVERWHELMED BY EMOTIONS. _*sobs*  
_I'm so sorry if I haven't replied to our review yet. I really, really am. And I promise to reply to it as soon as I have time, you can count on that.  
__But please be patient for the reply you expect and deserve from me, because I can't keep up with the all the love you're giving me anymore!_^^;;;  
_Still, thank you all. Things aren't going that smoothly with me nowadays (schoooool…), so it's nice to hear from complete strangers – well, some of you aren't **complete** strangers anymore – that I actually **am** good at some things.  
__That helps._^^ _Thanks_.

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXVI:

_**About Face  
**__**(Grizzly Bear)**_

Ah…

Things… kind of went fast in the wacky hour that followed after Antonio and I officially had…

…

…g-got married to each other.

Everything that was happening _now_ was more like a… I don't know, some kind of happy, pinkish (yup) blur to me. I don't really know how to explain it. I just _felt_ too much to be able to… h-have a proper reaction to everything that was going on around me.

All I knew, and the _best _I knew, was that I got married to Antonio a very little while ago.

And, oh, wait, that's not all: I _also_ knew that I didn't mind it _one single bit_ to hold his hand, and hug his arm, and smile like I have never smiled before in public when I was around Antonio.

H-he was my _husband_ now, after all.

It was only normal to… be, act and feel happy around him.

It was only normal to… b-be _myself_ around him.

…

But I would've liked it if all the other countries would stop fucking _gawking _at me like I had mysteriously been turned into this whole "new" Romano already.

I mean, _sheesh_, was it _that_ strange to see me with an upbeat expression on my face?

Even on my wedding day?

_Really_?

…

Well, that _sucks_.

…

Good thing that it took me a while to notice everybody's collective staring in the beginning, since I was way too busy smiling and grinning and holding onto Antonio like he was the most precious thing in the world (which he, admittedly, indeed was) while sitting on my Internal Cloud of Delight, Blissfulness and Post-Wedding-Ceremony-Happiness…

…buuuut.

After Norway came asking me if I was feeling alright, _right_ after Denmark, Finland and Sweden had come to me and Antonio in turns, all with this same _motherfucking _quasi-worried question, my lovely cloud had started to fall apart, causing me to sink right through it, back onto one of my many, _many_ Internal Thunderclouds of Annoyance, Snark and General Discomfort.

…

…o-of course, I still held on to Antonio tightly, even when I, _eventually_, was fed-up with everybody's well-meant but _oh_ _so unnecessary_ concern about me, and so, I snapped at Norway that _yes_, I actually _was_ alright, thankyouvery_much_, I just looked like this because I felt _happier_ than I had _ever_ felt before, dammit, if that was okay with him, and then I kindly _hissed _at him if he could _please_ **fuck the hell off** and get off my back. What pretty much means the same thing. But whatever.

'Okay.' Norway calmly responded to that and he walked away.

Emotionlessly.

…

I still think he, the Netherlands and Sweden should begin that Blank Bastards Club, by the way.

I mean, just _look_ at them here:

Sweden, blankly sipping from some red punch while blankly listening to some joke Finland was telling.

The Netherlands, blankly smoking his ass off like a goddamn overtly enthusiastic_ chimney _and blankly attempting to get his hair upright again and grumbling even _more_ blankly every time his hair fell down again.

And Norway, blankly… walking.

…

Seriously. Put them in a club. Toss them some coins to make them do something typical. Watch them getting _funky_ with crazy blankness.

It would make _so_ much sense in context.

…

Anyway, as soon as Norway was gone, just like my fluffy, blurry cloud, I seemed to have definitely woken up from my sugary wedding-haze, because I _finally _started to register what the heck was happening around me and…

…

…wait, where the fuck was I?

**xXx**

…

Huh.

Well, it looked like we were back in the hotel again.

…

Not just "we" as in "me and Antonio".

Nooooo.

"We" as in _all_ the crazy individualsthat had been in the _Sagrada Familía_.

**ALL** OF THEM.

The invited guests nations, naturally… but _also_ the random tourists that just had happened to be there during the weddings. For their vacation or whatever.

…

…yeah, those uninvited people… they were now here with us as well. In the… what did that sign say… "Reception/Party/Celebration (the _hell_, what _is _this shit, make a fucking _choice_ already) Room" of Hotel _Cerdà i Sunyer_.

Yup.

They were all here. Walking around, drinking from all kinds of punches, eating all kinds of finger food, talking to each other, laughing with each other, making silly dance moves (read: doing some disturbing pelvic thrusting – _what_)on the music that was playing…

…

In a nutshell: by the looks of it, everybody was _chillin'_ and having a great time in the enormously big Reception/Party/Celebration Room of the hotel.

…

Oh. Well, that was nice.

That was pretty fucking nice indeed.

…

Now I felt like I had missed out on all the fun in the past 60 minutes.

_Dammit_!

Why hadn't I regain my senses a little bit _earlier_!

If I _had_, maybe then I could have witnessed how Hungary had managed to escort everybody in the church to the hotel, _and_ I could have probably laughed my fucking _ass_ off, because I'm sure she had tried to push multiple unfortunate souls into that pink-white nightmare she called "carriage" , for example, and _man_, I would have _loved_ to see them yelp and struggle around in that tiny thing, with Hungary standing next to the carriage, awkwardly _folding_ everybody that'd fall out back into the devilish vehicle…

…but alas, I had missed all that.

Because of my own unashamed _gushing_ over my wedding, I had actually missed an entire _hour_. Sure, that doesn't sound _too_ bad, especially when you realize there are also people who drink way too much booze on their wedding day and end up missing _everything_, which would be really terrible (or really reassuring, depending from what kind of person you are) but…

…still, c-come _on_, it had been my first"wedded-to-Antonio" –hour, and I had missed all of it!

Damn. Just my luck. Of _all_ the hours that I had _loved_ to miss, destiny just had to pick out _this _hour for me to miss.

No, wait, not _this_ hour – _last_ hour.

…

You know, the hour _before_ this hour.

…

Oh, fuck it.

And now, I was sitting here, with Antonio (and Feliciano and Germany, apparently, because they sat just a few chairs away from us), at this long, white-table-clothed table, filled with candle-lights and half-empty wine glasses, having _not even a goddamn __**hunch **_about _what_ exactly had happened right after I got married.

So I asked Antonio.

Who was happy to explain, because he's Antonio.

'Hmm? What happened after we got married an hour ago? Oh, not much, Lovi. We were just getting a lot of heartwarming applause from the audience after we had said our "I do"'s and everybody threw white rice at us – well, everybody except America, who threw white sandwiches at us for some reason – and then we ran out of the church while laughing and holding hands, and then there was no more rice to throw at us because everything had already been thrown at us back inside the church so more bread was handed out by America and thrown at us, and then Hungary released some pigeons, and then Hungary had to run like the _wind_ because some undercover animal activists hidden in the group of tourists got angry at her for locking innocent birds up in small cages for such a long time and the she had to run like the _wind_ some _more_ because then the pigeons started pooping on everybody and nobody found _that_ very enjoyable, so even more people ran after her as well.'

'…a-ah?' I managed to say.

Antonio nodded. 'Yeah, the road back to the hotel really was kind of messy, Lovi. The nations were being loud, the tourists were being annoying, Germany and Feli couldn't stop making out in every narrow alley that would appear on their path and Hungary was still getting mobbed by angry people. Good thing the locals thought we were doing some kind of freaky parade, or else we could have been celebrating our wedding in jail instead of the hotel…'

My jaw dropped.

'Are you _serious_?'

'Well…' Antonio let out a nervous little laugh, pointing at something dirty on the sleeve of my suit, '…what else do you think that white smudge on your jacket is?'

…I could have answered that question really suggestively, wiggling an eyebrow and licking my lips and the like while doing so, but I was too confused and grossed out.

'…is it… pigeon poop?'

'Yes.' He nodded again.

'I got… _pigeon-pooped_?'

'Hey, you weren't the only one – I got some on my _shoe_!'

'I got fucking pigeon-pooped… and I didn't even _notice_?'

'Yeah, I also thought that was a bit weird!' Antonio grinned at me. 'No matter what disaster was happening around us, you just kept on smiling! You didn't panic, you didn't get angry, you didn't even yell or cuss… you just… smiled and held on to my hand, looking adorably peaceful.'

'Peaceful, huh…' I said, wrinkling my nose as I glared at the smudge on my jacked. Eww. Eww eww _eww_.

'Yes, very peaceful!~' Antonio chirped in the meantime.

I forgot about the bird shit (well, I TRIED) and frowned at him.

'You… didn't think that was creepy behavior of me, Antonio?'

'Not at all!~ I liked the way you smiled and clung on me in public. And… please, don't act like you _never_ do that, Lovino. Because you act like that more than you think.'

He winked at me.

'Sweetie.~'

Oh.

My face got very red. _Again_. But _eh_, what else was new.

'…oh, and I also liked that you kicked the Netherlands' shins when he at some point remarked you looked "kind of stoned". That was fun!~ You were so _feisty_!~'

Antonio chuckled excitedly.

If it was possible, my jaw dropped some more.

'…I don't remember _anything_ of that!'

The Spaniard blinked. 'Really? That's too bad, the Netherlands actually bit his tongue from the sheer shock of getting kicked by you. Ahahaha!~ But how comes you don't remember?'

'I-I don't know, I only remember… k-kissing you, and then everything went a bit… blurry.' I muttered.

'Blurry?'

'Yes.'

'Blurry because of the _love_, Lovi, you handsome little daydreamer?~'

I blushed. 'S-shut up. I have bird shit on my sleeve and I'm not afraid to use it, dammit.'

Antonio was quiet for a bit, but then he smiled – and carefully folded his hand over my own.

'…well, if you only remember kissing me, you've definitely remembered the best thing that happened over the past hour, my love.'

'Y-yeah?' I asked, feeling a bit relieved.

'Yeah. Apart from becoming my husband, that is.' Antonio (and his chair) shoved a few centimeters closer to me and I shivered when he tugged down my collar a bit and pressed a kiss in the crook of my neck.

'Getting married to you… t-that… that certainly was the best part, yes…' I agreed, chucking softly.

I felt his mouth smile against my skin. 'Right?~'

'Yes. But anyway…' I cleared my throat and gently pushed his face back a bit, '…w-what's happening here, huh? What are we supposed to do _now_?'

Antonio sat back on his chair, frowned and scratched the back of his head.

'Umm… I'm not too sure. Maybe we should take a look at that program that Hungary handed out to us after she had finally managed to shrug off all those angry people.'

'She handed out _what_?' I slowly said, my inner alarm-senses instantly tingling _madly_ when hearing the words "Hungary" and "program" in one sentence.

It's just…

You hear "Hungary". You hear "program".

…

You think "porn".

No – you mentally _scream _"PORN".

"POOOOORRRRNNN".

…

But that's not new either.

'You didn't know about the program, Lovi? Hungary made them!~' Antonio explained to me cheerfully, even though he himself also didn't sound like he was convinced that a _program_ made by _Hungary_ was something to be really cheerful about.

'…here, let me show you…'

He searched the pocket of his jacket for a bit and then pulled out something of a… folded, light-yellowish pamphlet. He unfolded it, straightened the crumpled parts and put it on the table, in between us.

I knew I was going to regret it – but I still took a look at it.

**xXx**

_**~ The Wonderful Amazing Sparkling After-Wedding-Party of Roma and Spain and Veni and Germany EXTRAVAGANZA YAY! ~**_

_**Timetable:**_

_**Thirteen – fourteen o'clock:  
**__Enjoy the bubbly wedding ceremony of our four adorable wedding participants!~_

_**Fourteen – fifteen o'clock:  
**__Gather at hotel_ _Cerdà i Sunyer, in the Reception/Party/Celebration Room, for the dazzling After-Wedding-Party!~_

_**Fifteen – seventeen o'clock:  
**__Time to freshen up, congratulate the two happy couples and grab a bite! Or a drink! Or both! Go nuts!~_

_**Seventeen – nineteen o'clock:  
**__Dinner time! Eat and drink some more, but now from the buffet!~ Warm, cold – we have all the Spanish/Italian/German food you want!~ _

_**Nineteen – twenty o'clock:  
**__Dancing time! The two happy couples do the opening dances! At least two! Let's see if Roma and Veni have some **swag** and are able to **rock** those petite, flexible bodies just as much as when they're having sexy-times with Spain/Germany!~_

_**Twenty – twenty-one o'clock:  
**__Moar dancing plz! Now the rest of the guests can storm the dance floor! Dance, flirt, hump and twist to your heart's content!~ Don't forget to drink a lot of alcohol, too!~_

_**Twenty-one – twenty-two o'clock:  
**__Keep on drinking! Keep on dancing! Keep on fumbling! Don't pay attention to me, Mr. Kiku or the several camera's that will magically appear out of nowhere at this point of the evening!~ It's all your drunken imagination!~_

_**Twenty-two – twenty-three o'clock:  
**__Same story – just make sure you don't start puking on the carpet or in the big vases._

_IMPORTANT: THIS COUNTS FOR **ALL** SET TIMES/ACTIVITIES. NO EXCEPTIONS._

_**Twenty-three o'clock – midnight:  
**__The lovebirds are now allowed to retreat and have hot, passionate, animalistic sex in their gorgeous bedrooms. Oh **my**!~_

_PS: Do your best to stop them when they want to leave earlier: the more sexually frustrated they'll get, the better their eventual lovemaking will be!~_

_PPS: Try to be a **woman**, though, as men who try to pull this off will probably get killed by either Romano or Germany. And you don't want to piss off Veneciano, either. Let alone Spain. Just so you know._

_As for the rest of the guests/evening: do whatever you want to do at this time, as long as you keep in mind that the workers of the hotel WILL kick you out after **three o'clock**._

_That's all!~_

_Enjoy the party, lovelies!~_

_With love, your humble hostess of the evening…_

_**Hungary~**_

**xXx**

You just _know_ something isn't right when Hungary starts using military time (and _how_!) on fluffy decorated pamphlets like these.

And I was thinking… a _lot_ of things right now.

Like…

_I'm **so** not drinking a fucking drip of alcohol tonight._

Or…

_What's. With. The. **Squiggles**._

And…

_What a nice, creamy color of paper. I should ask Hungary where she got it from. I want to use it for my correspondence. Wait, I don't have any correspondence._

…

Still, those weren't even the parts of the program I was _most_ concerned about…

**xXx**

'What the _fuck_?'

I hissed, staring at the "twenty-three o'clock – midnight" –activity.

'Antonio! Have you read that already? We aren't allowed to leave this room earlier than 11 o'clock!'

I started _jabbing_ my finger down on the poor pamphlet _so_ ferociously, I actually hurt my finger a little bit, dammit.

'Ah, yes, it looks like we'll be here for quite some time…' Antonio mused, tapping his finger on the bolded print as well – only a lot more… elegantly and not-painfully.

I pulled an angry face, awkwardly moving and curling my finger to see if it still worked.

'Pssh! Yeah _right_! Like _hell _I'm going to hang around here until 11 o'clock! I want to leave earlier, dammit! Get that thing out of my _face_!'

Then I made a weird, uncoordinated movement with my hand, swatting the program off the table. _Woosh_!

…

Didn't look half as cool as I had thought it would.

…

Stupid paper.

Anyway, Antonio looked from the pamphlet – that was now slowly landing on the floor – to my annoyed face, _smirking_ as he moved closer to me again.

'Ohh?~ What that? You're saying you _don't_ want to stay up that long, Lovino?~'

'No!' I huffed, folding my arms.

'Why not?~'

I hesitated – but not for long, because I knew _exactly_ "why not~".

'B-because I want to have s-sex with you a lot _earlier_, dammit! I-I _want_ you… _way_ earlier! J-_just_ you!' I heard myself stammer.

He chuckled. 'Well, aren't you eager!~'

'I-I _am_!' I admitted, avoiding his eyes as I sheepishly began to fidget with his tie, '…a-and I'm a bit nervous, too. And e-excited! Since it's _you_!'

'You don't have to be nervous.' Antonio enclosed his hands around my wrists. 'You'll be fine, sweetie.'

'Probably. But what about _you_?' I suddenly looked the Spaniard in the eye – and I saw that the sudden move and eye-contact startled him.

'W-what _about_ me, Lovi?'

'Will _you_ be fine, Antonio?'

For just a second, maybe even less than a second, I noticed something that looked a lot like _doubt_ quickly flashing through his green eyes.

But then he just smiled again and lifted up my hands, kissing them.

'Don't worry about me.'

…

…

…what kind of lousy answer was _that_?

Of _course_ I was worrying about him, dammit! He hadn't had a dick up his ass for fucking _decades_! And if I had to believe all the stories I had heard about bottom-Antonio, he never had been exactly _thrilled_ to be in that position, either! He always had been talked, fooled, tricked, drunk (and I'm not even kidding) or forced into that position! He had never… _nicely_ experienced it!

…

…that reminds me… that one time in that one shop… when I had felt ridiculously brave and felt him up…

He had looked pretty freaked out for a second.

Sure, he had immediately denied he had been afraid, and I had believed him, but when I think about all of this…

…

…

C-could he really have been… _scared_?

Was he scared _now_?

Or was he just nervous?

I mean, being nervous is okay. It's only normal for him to be nervous. Hell, I knew _I _was nervous, the first time we… you know…

…

…but I wasn't scared.

I _never_ was.

…

I stared at Antonio, who confusedly looked back at me ("What's the matter? Something on my face again?") and I already opened my mouth to confront him with my questions, when, all of a sudden, my hand was _brutally _snatched away from the table and being shaken enthusiastically.

'Congratulations, you two! That was one hell of a wedding made in heaven, right! Hahahahaha!'

…

That voice.

That laugh.

That… that very confusing sentence that made absolutely no sense, but in a way, it actually _did_ make sense.

…

Only one person could pull that off, really…

'…America. Hi.'

I gave the neatly dressed blond American a forced little smile and tried to get my hand back.

America grinned, purposely holding on to my hand firmer when he saw I was struggling to free myself out of his grasp (don't ask – I don't get that fucking douchebag, I really, really don't).

'Hi Romano! Looks like you and Spain are having a great time already! Holding hands and stuff! Is that poop on your sleeve? Aww, just _look _at you guys! So cute and so in love! I almost cried when I heard your vows, Romano, they really were awesome! And there is shit on your shoes, too, Spain!'

Antonio smiled very awkwardly at him. 'Umm… I—'

America bluntly cut him off and continued to talk to me.

'By the way, I've put on a new tux, since I got shitted on as well. Damn those pigeons. Hahahaha! Hey, check this out – it's green. It's a _green _tuxedo, Romano. You know what that _means_?'

'You can finally play grass in a posh play?' I prompted – and at last succeeded in freeing myself from the American Grasp of Terror when he burst out laughing.

'Hahahaha! Nice try! But _no _cigar!'

'…then what _does_ it mea—'

'It means that the insides of the tux is designed as _**America –**_ _**the Star-Spangled Banner**_!'

And in a very bold, superman-like spasm, America _ripped _his jacked open, hastily shook it off his shoulders and showed me the insides of it.

…

Yeah, it had the same design as the American flag, I guess.

'…so…' I politely said, '…is it… normal for green tuxedo's to have… the American flag as design on the inside or something?'

America looked at me as if I had gone crazy.

'I don't know. Is it?'

'Wha-! _Hey_! _You_ said that your green tuxedo was like the ultimate sign of having a… flaggy design on the inside!' I nagged.

'What?' America chuckled. '…oh no, no – I was talking about _myself_, Romano! You didn't know? I even _said_ America! Literally! It even was bolded and everything!'

'You were fucking talking about a _star-spangled banner-thing_, you damn_ douchebag_!'

America clacked his tongue. 'Hey, don't call my flag a "thing"! It's a **THING**. And it's very heroic. Also, it's my nickname.'

'…your _nickname_?'

'The Star-Spangled Banner, Romano.' America smirked, swung his jacket over his shoulders and smoothly put one of his hands in his pockets. 'My nickname, baby. If I use that name when I go outside for an anonymous walk in this awesome suit, nobody notices me.'

I stared at him, screaming from the inside – EVERYBODY and their MOMS WILL NOTICE YOU IN A SUIT LIKE THAT, YOU FREAK – but decided not to comment on that.

'…so… what, you're telling me it's just _coincidence_ that the insides of your jacket look exactly like your nation's flag?' I forced myself to ask.

'Hahaha! You will never know.'

'What the fuck does _that_ mean!'

'It means that you should look _deeper _into the grass, Romano. Because if you don't, you never know what's hidden… _inside_ of it…'

'…is that a saying?'

'I have _no_ idea.'

America shrugged and sighed, already fed-up with the conversation topic – and then suddenly grabbed another nation that was sneaking around behind, firmly pushing the gasping man in front of him.

'And _now_, this gentleman here wants to congratulate you two gay guys as well, because I've ran out of weird comments to say in order to give that eyebrow-caterpillar some more time to grow some _balls_ and wish you the best of luck already!'

America gave England – bet you already knew it was him – another push in the back, and the Englishman gave a high-pitched and very embarrassing little yelp of annoyance ("_AH_! Why you little, bloody American _brat_!") as he stumbled forwards …

…_straight _into Antonio's arms.

…

…

…who… snorted a bit dismissively, but then calmly pushed him back on his feet, looking away from him with a deep wrinkle in his forehead.

Fortunately, the wrinkle instantly disappeared again when our eyes met – and he even gave me a small, happy smile when I nonchalantly wrapped both of my hands around his, almost as if I was giving him a compliment for behaving so very maturely.

And, well, I was.

Well done, Antonio. I-I'm proud of you.

'…so you wanted to congratulate us?' I then subtly asked England.

England huffed, dusted off his neat suit – looks like he had also changed suits, I thought he wore something different before as well, something **purple oh god now I remember again** – and then took a deep, very deep breath, furrowing his brows when he finally looked up to the both of us.

'I… ngh.'

He frowned some more and plucked on one of the buttons of his jacket uneasily.

It didn't look like he was going to say something, until America slowly put his hands on the smaller man's shoulders, squeezing them a bit.

'Come on, spit it out. You can do this. You've been practicing all night just to say this to them – now say it.'

'Don't _rush _me, y-you _git_. And stop touching m—'

'You know I won't.' America simply said and pulled him closer, close enough to cause the hands on England's shoulders to slide down a bit, making it look like a very slow, kind start towards something that looked like the beginnings of a hug.

England looked like he was going to melt from embarrassment, and I wish I could say that I knew what he must have felt like, but…

…I _didn't_.

Not _anymore_.

H-hell, even _if_ I was going to melt when Antonio would hug me in public, it would be because of something _else_ than embarrassment, dammit…

England sharply inhaled through his nostrils.

'A-alright, I can do this. Of course I can. Do this. I'm just going to say this to you _wankers_, and then I'm going to have a nice cup of tea on the other side of the room, far, far away from both of you. After I have congratulated Germany and Romano's bouncy brother as well. Since they're here too. Being newlyweds and such. So I need to stick around a little bit longer. But then it's off to the tea-corner with me!'

'We get it.' Antonio smiled yet another semi-fake smile. 'You can't wait to score some tea. Now, can you just… get _on_ with it already?'

England's lower lip curled into a stubborn pout, glaring at him.

'Of _course_ I can!'

Antonio narrowed his eyes.

'_**Prove it**_**.**'

_Instantly_, and very suddenly if you asked me, there was something like a _fire_ brewing in the Englishman's green orbs again – and he also squeezed his eyes almost shut as he slowly, cautiously…

…reached out a shaky hand towards us.

…

…

…which… I eventually decided to take, since Antonio currently was too busy glaring and snorting at him and stuff.

'…ongratulations.' England mumbled softly at me, stiffly moving his cold, clammy hand with mine trapped inside of it up and down.

'Thank you, England. Very spontaneous.' I said.

'Oh, _sod_ off!'

'_Good_!' America patted England's hair like he was a giant blond dog, '…now that you've taken one hotheaded Italian down, you just have your old, Spanish archenemy to go, Iggy! Piece of cake! Right, Romano?'

'S-sure,' I automatically said, since America was hysterically signaling at me to help him out, and let go of England's hand… only to wordlessly commanded Antonio with my eyes to prove to me one more time he _really was_ able to behave maturely ("Shake his hand – shake his hand _**now ROAR**_.").

Naturally, after seeing my warning eyes, Antonio obediently, but very reluctantly raised his hand.

And seconds later, they actually shook hands.

…

It was almost comical just how much both nation grumbled, frowned and winced when they did so.

'…c'ngr'tu'tions.' England muttered.

'…th'ks.' Antonio just as muffled responded.

Sweden, eat your heart out.

After all that had to be said and shaken was done, they quickly let go of each other, both Englishman and Spaniard looking incredibly relieved and happy that _that _was over.

'_Oof_.' the Brit said, closing his eyes, putting a hand on his chest and taking a deep, wavering breath, as if he had just ran the marathon or heard some bad news he had to recover from or whatever.

He kind of overreacted a bit if you asked me, but America didn't fully agree on that.

'_You did it_!'

The blond man _grabbed _England's hips, gave them a firm _spin_, and pressed the shorter blond man against him, tears rolling down his cheeks (_what_) as he hugged and cuddled the other.

'I'm… s-_so_ happy for you! Finally being able to pull that stick out of your ass and shake the hand of Spain _without _trying to kill him with your eyes or pulverize his hand by squeezing really hard and all… ah, how much you've _grown_, Arthur!'

I looked at England, cringing while thinking he'd throw a tantrum and kick that clingy American away from him, but…

I was wrong.

'I-it really was pretty impressive what I did there, wasn't it!' he laughed at the American, quivering a bit from the tension (I guess), '…did you see what I did there, Ameri… A-Alfred?'

'Yes I did!' America grinned.

'I took his hand!'

'You took his hand!'

'And I shook it!'

'You shook it!'

'I congratulated the bloody _hell _out of that twit!'

'I know. I was there!'

'That… that deserves some kind of… r-reward from you, right?... I mean, if you think you should do something really splendid for me, _with _me, I… well, I won't halt you.'

England bashfully looked up to America, awkwardly pricking his finger in the other male's greenish chest.

America gasped and took England's hand in his.

'You're _right_! On to the grub with you! I think I saw they had _scones_!'

'…wha—'

'And _you_, my sexual friend, deserve _all _of them!'

'…b-but I…'

'_Let us depart_!'

And without wasting any more time, the two blond men left. One of them looking really pleased, the other one looking really frustrated.

…

…oh whatever, I bet they'd be smooching near the ending of the day anyway.

**XxX**

Right according to the schedule/timetable Hungary had organized in this insane program of hers, Antonio and I (and therefore Feliciano and Germany as well) spend the rest of the following two hours getting congratulated by entire Europe and some other countries.

…

My hand had become so fucking sweaty by the end of these hours, you wouldn't believe.

The sweat was practically dripping off my hand. _Streaming _of my hand. My hand was a _waterfall_.

And by the time I was congratulated by Latvia, one of the most timid nations of the continent, our hands just kept on… slipping. Very awkward. And of course, Latvia blamed himself and promised me to keep on trying, so he was practically crying when he found out our hands just _couldn't _connect and gave up at last, running away in blind panic.

…I better give him an extra big piece of wedding cake later this evening.

…

Also, another sad side effect that happened because of the constant felicitation-attacks by people, familiar or not, who wanted to talk me and the others: my face and mouth had frozen into this creepy, maniacal grin that had been a very grateful and shy smile before.

I'm serious here. My smile had been really kind and honest and genuine when I was firstly congratulated by the lovely Liechtenstein, but when it was finally Latvia's turn, I pretty looked like Russia's younger, more murderous and sadistic little brother that was going to _kill_ _him_.

…

…oh.

His freaked-out behavior suddenly made a lot more sense to me.

Anyway, no matter how much my hands sweated and how twisted my face must have looked like when it was a few minutes past "seventeen o'clock", I still was kind of… thankful to Hungary. For making such a stern schedule, I mean.

Crazy schedule with weird, almost code-like time sets on them or not – thanks to these programs, everybody had already congratulated us and knew exactly what was expected of them… and what theycould expect from _us_.

So I felt content as well as slightly uncomfortable when I noticed everybody following the timetable and standing neatly in a line in front of the warm and cold buffets.

Sure, the nations still acted like the loose, uncontrolled, chaotic projectiles they were, with Feliciano cutting in line ("Veee, but I got married, I'm _allowed_ to cut in line!~"), Germany getting annoyed at him for cutting in line ("Feliciano! No cutting in line! I thought we had discussed this matter already!"), Austria getting even more annoyed ("If only there was a piano here for me to express my anger.") and Greece taking a veeeeerrrrrry long time on deciding what to pick from the buffets ("…I could go for spaghetti… or penne… or pizza… or paella… or potatoes… oh, is that icecream?")…

…but they all still behaved pretty _correctly_, considering the dreadful situation they were in.

And that was just unsettling.

In the meantime, Antonio and I had raised our lazy butts from our seats as well and we were now observing the long line standing across the entire room.

…

…w-while holding hands, naturally, because it still was very nice to be able to do that.

'Um… wow.' Antonio blinked his eyes, staring at the _massive_ line of fancy suits, expensive dresses and a random touristic shirt here and there, '…no wonder Hungary gave us two hours time to eat dinner. All of the guests are mobbing on the food!'

'Not just the guests – Feliciano and Germany as well.' I pointed out, nodding in the direction of Feliciano, who was now scooping up a shitload of pasta on his plate, and Germany, who was looking embarrassed and kept on bowing and saying sorry to the waiting, irritated guests waiting for their turns.

Antonio laughed. 'Silly Feli! Looks like he's having a lot of fun, though!~'

'Sure.' I snorted sarcastically. 'Feliciano always has a lot of fun – as long as he can annoy others in the progress.'

'Ah, what should we do?' Antonio mused, purposely not responding to my snarky comment, '…we could stand in line as well, but I fear that by the time we finally have something to eat, we won't be able to sit anywhere…'

I looked around the room – and I saw what he meant. There already weren't a lot of tables and seats in the Reception/Party/Celebration Room left (_fuck_, looks like the entire Benelux-family had taken over the table Antonio and I were originally sitting at) and it wasn't even half past 5 yet!

'I don't want to sit on the floor! If you think I'm going to sit on the floor while eating, you're fucking _wrong_!' I instantly nagged.

'You can sit on my lap?' Antonio kindly offered, but I shook my head.

'Do you have any idea how stupid that'll look? Or how uncomfortable that'll be for you? And how are you planning to eat when I'm sitting on your lap!'

'…um…' Antonio frowned.

I huffed victoriously. 'That's right – you _can't _eat with me sitting on your lap. Unless you'll smear your paella all over my back and lick it off. Naked.'

'You really are horny, aren't you, Lovi?'

'It's not even funny anymore how horny I am.'

'Ah…'

'…a-are _you_?'

'I could go for a hump or two, yes.'

I giggled – I couldn't help it, I was aiming for chuckling but it came out all gigglish and shit.

Antonio _did_ chuckle though (not surprised, he was the King of Chuckles) and gave my still very sweaty hand a soft squeeze.

'Well, okay. If sitting on each other's lap isn't the right solution for this, then what else can we do in order to eat something?'

'Hmm…'

I looked around the room again, but now more carefully… and suddenly, I noticed that one of the doors that was leading to the garden of the hotel was standing open.

And I noticed a few classy, white tables and chairs. _Empty _classy, white tables and chairs.

And I noticed other nations looking for a place to sit down with their freshly scored grub, too.

Shit. Had to act fast here.

'Okay!' I started, eyes fixated on a table standing outside, '…here's what we're going to do: _you_ go get some food for the both of us – just pick whatever you want for me _except _any German food – and then_ I'll_ run outside and claim a table for us!'

'Ah, eating outside! How romantic!~'

'Y-yes, and maybe we could go for a stroll in the garden as well after that.'

'That sounds lovely, Lovi. I can't wait to do perverted stuff with you behind those innocent, flowery bushes.'

Antonio looked at me and gave me such an obscene grin that I felt like _pouncing_ him, but I managed to keep my head cool and breathed in deeply.

'I-it's a deal then!' I said, making a firm fist of my free hand, '…you'll get the food, I'll get the table.'

'Right.' Antonio nodded.

'Ready, set—GO!'

And while Antonio made a single step to the side, becoming part of the hungry-for-food-line, I hurried my ass out of the room as fast as I could, jumping over micro nations that somehow had managed to sneak in and wandering pets as I did so.

Perhaps a very strange tactic, yes, I'm very much aware of that, but screw that - still managed to sit at the table I had had my sights on and smirked proudly as I plopped down on a chair and took a steady hold on the other chair – with my _feet_.

HaHA!

Mine! Claimed in the name of South Italy!

Now all that was left to do for me was passionately defending my small, newfound territory against the enemy until Antonio would return with the food.

…

Oh, and hoping it wouldn't start raining.

**xXx**

I was lucky.

Because aside from a small but fierce confrontation with Prussia and Canada, who tried to steal the seat I had reserved for Antonio (those evil bastards, or was it just Prussia, I don't know anymore), nothing special happened and I excitedly waved and grinned at Antonio when the Spaniard finally came walking towards the table I was sitting at, his arms filled with plates and food.

'Look, Antonio, look!' I tittered like some kid with too much sugar in his system as he put down the food, '…I've done it! I've defended our territory against evil! _Fuck_ yeah!'

'Great job, Lovi!~' Antonio smiled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss on my cheek before sitting down, '…I had expected nothing less from my husband.'

_His husband._

I smiled as well and blushed as I rubbed a hand over my cheek.

I-I was his husband now, yes. I kept on forgetting it, because we still behaved the same way, still acted the same way and still talked and laughed the same way, together, but… there really _had_ changed _something_ between us, and that was the fact we were officially a married couple now.

We were _official_.

…

That sounded so much better than _dating_.

'Okay,' Antonio then said, not immediately aware of my stupid, dreamily smiling, '…I had wanted to pick spaghetti for you, but it turned out that Belarus and Ukraine already had taken the last strands left of it… so then I went for macaroni. You love macaroni as well, right?'

'I love you, yes…' I softly said.

He now looked up from his plate filled with chicken, tomatoes and yellow rice and gave me an amused, but also genuinely _pleased_ look.

'A-ah, I love you too, my love…'

'I-I know…'

'You think you can also love the macaroni I picked for you, Lovi?~'

'Oh.' I flushed some more and sat up a bit, coughing. '…y-yes, I love macaroni as well. It's very… pasta-like. Because it is pasta. And I love pasta.'

'Hm-hm.' Antonio smiled. 'Enjoy your food, sweetie.'

'Y-yes. I will. You enjoy your food too, darling.'

Antonio's eyes lit up a bit.

'I-I will, Lovino…'

'G-good.'

And so we ate.

…

The food was already cooled off. My macaroni wasn't cooked the way it was supposed to be and I missed the cheese. Furthermore, Antonio's rice still was too hard and his tomatoes looked kind of wilted. He also barely had any vegetables.

…

But this was the best dinner we had ever shared as a married couple.

…

Spy the lame reasoning behind this. Come on, I dare you.

**xXx**

When Antonio and I were finished eating our dinner and desserts (what, of _course _we had also taken some icecream, that was pretty much the best part of the whole… eating-thing!), I quickly jumped up from my chair and made shy, sheepish gestures to the (admittedly very neat) garden.

'S-so… um. The garden. It's right there.'

'It is. And how pretty it is!~' Antonio said, wiping the last bits of chocolate off his mouth (which was a pity).

'Um.' I shuffled my feet. 'Think you… want to check it out with me?'

Antonio was quiet for a second, but then raised off his seat as well, nodding at me with a very big, happy smile on his face as he reached out a hand to take mine.

'Ah, I can't wait to check it out with you, my lo—'

'_There_ you two are!'

Suddenly, out of nowhere, both my and Antonio's shoulders were _severed _by some verrrry familiar, feminine hands…

…and when we looked behind us, still rather _shocked_, we saw the proud owner of the hands.

_Hungary_.

'Hungary!' Antonio stammered, '…w-we weren't planning on sneaking off into the garden or anything!'

Thankfully, the Hungarian woman ignored his stuttering and sighed.

'I've finally found you. Oh, what a relief! I was looking all over the place for you two! For a moment, I thought you had succeeded in getting away—I mean, I thought you had got lost.'

She smiled friendly. Or so it appeared.

'But here you are!~ In the garden!~ Hidden!~ That'll remind me to lock the doors later this evening. But first things first: we're all waiting for you two inside, dears!~'

The brunette pointed to the – huge yet organized – crowd standing inside the Reception/Party/Celebration/Fucking Stupid Room.

Of course, I panicked when seeing all those people.

'W-what, you're all waiting for _what_!'

'Dancing!' Hungary gave me a strange look. 'Pay more attention to the program, Roma. It's past nineteen o'clock already – you and Spain and Veni and Germany are supposed to do the opening dance!~'

Oh _fuck_ – I had totally forgot about that.

Antonio had forgotten about it as well and he uttered a gasp.

'Oh! Right, we should do some _dancing_! Come, Lovi!~ We can't let those good people wait, can we!~'

YES WE CAN, DAMMIT, I wanted to snarl, but it seemed like my throat was being squeezed shut.

So before I even was fully aware of it, Antonio placed his hands on my hips and gently pushed me towards the awaiting room…


	77. Package

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: A bit longer than a week ago, a bus filled with Belgian and Dutch children aged 11 and 12 crashed in a tunnel in Switzerland.  
__There were 28 people killed, of which 22 were kids.  
__They don't know what exactly went wrong. The driver of the bus (who was killed by the impact as well) wasn't drunk, distracted or tired. He probably just made a little mistake by taking the wrong lane – and fatally crashing right into a gap.  
__And just this very week, some crazy maniac decided to shoot at a small group of children in front of a Jewish elementary school in France. An innocent man and three kids were killed – and two of these kids were the man's.  
__Afterwards, the killer jumped on his scooter and drove away. He was killed a few days ago – either by the police that had surrounded the house he was hiding in or because of the fact that he crashed through a window while shooting at the police, maybe in an attempt to escape.  
__Well.  
__What can I say, really? That's what was in the European news last week.  
__There was also good news, though: in about two years, the European economy will be a bit better again!  
__Oh wow. That wonderful news certainly will keep me warm when I'm desperately trying to find a job after I've graduated. Huzzah!  
__Also, and this is kind of random: my dad likes the Twilight-movies.  
__He thinks they are awesome, because "werewolves and vampires and shit".  
_…  
_Did I ever mention that even after all these years, that man still manages to surprise me? _XD

_A/n2: Here's another useless funfact about me…  
__I love to read. And I've always enjoyed reading._^^ _All kinds of books and things, really.  
__Large books, thin books, difficult books, simple books, old books, new books, funny books, less-funny books, instruction books, porn books (very boorish ones though, I've read fanfics that were **way** more exciting), comics, manga, chick-lit…  
_…_even a random travel magazine every now and then. Yup yup.  
__Right now, I've just finished reading the newest book of Sophie Kinsella (British chick-lit author) and I'm about to start reading "Sense and Sensibility" again. In Dutch, of course, because I can't read English books that well. English fanfic – no problem, but English books? Total meltdown. _XDDDDD  
_Maybe I'm just selective? _

_A/n3: Okay, if you have time for it, go listen to the song "Can you handle me?" by Kane. The **lyrics**. I just can't shake off the slightest possibility that Lovi could have written them._

_A/n4: Yup, the title of this chapter is once again brought to you by miss __**bakagohome**__. Yay! Package! It makes so much sense if you think about it! _8DDDDDD

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXVII:

_**The Package  
**__**(A Perfect Circle)**_

When I finally became a bit aware of the problematic situation, I just wanted to shout "_fuck_ this shit – I'm _out_ of here!", roll myself up into a ball and _bounce_ myself into the nearest bush really quickly.

_Lightning-speed_-quickly. Nobody would even know what happened. _That_ quickly.

And then, I'd wait until all the scary dancing would be over.

And then, I'd come out of my secret bush.

And then, I'd take Antonio's hand in mine, and kiss him, and hug him, and tell him I love him, and… and get our asses into our awesome bedroom as fast as humanly possible.

And then, we would make lots and lots of fantastic sweet love with each other without giving a crap about the rest of the world because…

…

…well, because it's _our _wedding day, dammit, not _theirs_, and if we wanted to do it, then we _would_ do it!

_Loudly _do it!

…

…well… and n-_nicely_, too, of course, o-of _course_ it would be nice and great and magical and amazing… a-and not _too _loudly, since I wouldn't like to see Hungary's dead, bloodless but _happy_ body lying in front of our hotel room the next morning (o-oh, the sheer _thought_…)…

…

W-what I'm trying to say is…

…

…

…I-I didn't _want_ to dance in front of all those people and play along with everything, just because Hungary had happened to put it on her fucking schedule!

I just wanted to do what _**I **_wanted to do already!

…

…and… you know what, in many, _maaaaaany_ other situations, the current moment could actually have been a perfectly normal, romantic moment between me and Antonio. A moment that I personally really wouldn't had wanted to miss, not in al million years.

The scenery around us, for starters, was beautiful. Perfect for freshly-married couples who were looking for some romantic ambiance and shit.

I mean, it was already getting dark. The orangey, red sun was slowly disappearing behind the big trees of the garden. The weather was relatively nice. Not too warm, not too cold. And even if we would go inside, the scenery would still be wonderful, because the decorations and the interior designs of the Reception/Party/Celebration Room were fucking _superb_.

So yeah – the ambiance was okay.

Another nice thing about this moment: I liked that Antonio's hands were resting on my hips. They were big, large and comfy and I just couldn't think of anything else that had that same calming, yet suggestive grip around my hips. Antonio's hand held me carefully, but also very meaningfully. I could feel it. The way his fingers cheekily caressed my hipbones. The way his thumb pressed against my waist. The way he didn't seem to be planning to let go of me any day soon.

In short: aside from the pleasant ambiance, there also was an exciting kind of tension hanging in the air.

And last but not least… I absolutely _loved_ to dance with Antonio. He was good at it, I was good at it, _we _were good at it.

Conclusion: dancing together would be _good_. Easy as pie.

…

Let's see.

Nice ambiance: check.

Sensual tension: check.

In the mood for dancing: check.

…

You really didn't hear me complain about all that. Nope. That was all fine by me.

BUT.

…

I DON'T remember having any cravings for a FUCKING CROWD!

'Are you okay, sweetie?'

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in and looked over my shoulder, straight into Antonio's worried face.

'No! I'm _not_ okay!' I informed him with a shaky voice, struggling against his grip, '…I-I don't want to dance in front of everybody, dammit, I-I just want to be alone and happy with you and that's _it_! I-I want some rest, and I want celebrate this day with you, _just _you! I-is that too much to ask, for fuck's sake!'

Antonio was quiet for a moment, but didn't loosened his hands – and kept on pushing me forwards.

'That _is _too much to ask, Lovino.' he finally said, just before we entered the Lots of Names Room again.

That answer rubbed me the wrong way and I grunted, planting the heels of my shoes into the grass underneath it, effectively stopping the both of us.

'What do you mean, "that _is_ too much to ask"! Like _hell _it is! Come on, let's… l-lets dance somewhere else! It's _our _day, not _theirs_!'

Antonio sighed, gently spun me around and smiled at me.

'Lovi, sweetie, after this evening, _every single day _will be ours.'

I felt my face was getting hotter, but frowned at him nevertheless.

'…w-what are you saying, dammit…'

Antonio's smile became softer.

'This day isn't only _ours_, Lovino… it's a celebration day for _everyone_ who has come to our wedding. They have all given up a free day to be here with us, to celebrate the wonderful fact that you and me and your brother and Germany got married… to celebrate _love_, Lovi!~'

'Shut up. Y-you're just trying to make me feel guilty and talk me out of ditching everybody in order to have some r-romantic alone-time with you.' I puffed my cheeks, but stopped struggling.

He chuckled, knowing he had won, and wrapped his arms around my waist, pecking my lips really quickly.

'You really _are _romantic, Lovino. You are romantic and passionate and very, _very_ irrational when it's about you, me and… social happenings. Like yesterday. You became so stressed about the mere idea of getting married with me in front of an audience, you even wanted to elope with me, remember?~'

'Yes.' I mumbled.

'And now, you want to do something like that again, dumping the rest of the nations here without thinking about what they might think of that. Kind of selfish, don't you think?'

'I don't know.' I huffed. 'I don't think I'm selfish, I just don't care about what the others might think of whatever the fuck I do. I—'

'But you _do _care about that. _Everybody _does. And you _do _want to be accepted. And you _do _want others to look at you. You're a very nice nation, after all. You _like_ to hang around with nations like Liechtenstein and Femke and Feli – I saw it. You're just afraid to make mistakes. Afraid to hurt the nations and friends you've made for the past couple of weeks that _don't _unconditionally love you.'

I didn't say anything.

'You're allowed to make mistakes, Lovi.' Antonio hugged me. 'Social interaction never was a very easy thing – and it never _will _be. And sure, you might end up hurting somebody or hurting yourself sometimes, but that's all part of life. And you _can't_ always run away from life with me, Lovino… you have to face it every now and then, or else you'll never become completely happy.'

'I don't want to run away from life…' I muttered, fidgeting. '…I-I just don't always feel like… being social with others. I don't think I can do that on command.'

'I think you can.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Of course you do. You _always_ think the best of me.'

'I know. Terrible, right? To have so much faith in you… what a horrible man I am.'

'Fuck you.' I demonstratively looked away from him.

Antonio laughed a bit, but then pressed his forehead against mine, more or less forcing me to look him in the eye.

'Lovino, listen to me. Glare all you want, I don't care – just make sure you get what say. Okay? Right. Sometimes, you just _have_ to do things you don't like to do. Like visiting other nations in order to find out more about your lover, or getting married with a huge amount of (unwanted) guests, or dancing in front of a big crowd. That's not always fun – but you'll see how much better it makes you feel once you've done all of it and reflected on it. You'll become so much stronger as a person. So much more confident.'

I awkwardly placed my hands against his chest, not sure what to say.

'I love you.' Antonio firmly said. 'I love you very much and I will always love you. You're my sweet, wonderful and amazing husband and I can't wait for all the lovely moments we're going to be alone together, sweetie. But there are _more_ people in this world who deserve your attention and friendship, Lovino. Don't devote all of your kindness to me. _Share_ it.'

'…share it, you say…' I slowly repeated, poking his torso some more.

'Yes, share it.' Antonio said. ' Just make sure you save the best for me.'

…

I blinked at him – and felt a small, teasing smile appear on my face.

'…what kind of lame ending of a pep talk is _that_, "save the best for me"?'

Antonio blinked his eyes as well, grinning nervously.

'U-um…'

'You _do _realize that all of your speech's noble goal is now ruined, right, Mr. Hypocrite?'

'I-is it?'

'No. I get it. I get what you mean.'

I enclosed my fists around the neat fabric of his blouse and pulled the Spaniard closer, timidly rubbing my face against his chest.

'…I-I certainly get what you mean. I'll… I'll _try_, okay? I'll try to… stop trying to avoid social… situations from now on.'

'Ah. That's… that's good to hear…'

Antonio ran his hand through my hair lazily, his other hand fluttering over my back.

'…b-but…' I hesitated, '…d-don't expect me to become more like Felic—'

'I _**don't**_.' He immediately cut me off. 'Don't go that way. I want you to be _**you**_. Even when you don't want to be you, I still want you to be you. _Always_.'

I hugged him tighter.

'…y-you're a strange… strange man…'

'I am.'

'…I-I love you…'

'And I love you, sweetie. Now…'

Antonio pushed me backwards a bit, tilted my face up and kissed me, shortly but gently.

'…let's get inside and join our guests, shall we…?'

I automatically nodded.

**xXx**

When Antonio and I stepped inside of the room, we were instantly greeted by a lot of friendly faces, excitedly-glimmering eyes and… empty wineglasses, swirling around in the air, as if the already slightly tipsy guests (way to go, Hungary's program) were expecting that somebody would immediately run over to them to fill their glasses up again.

But that didn't happen.

…

Oh, and for some reason, all of the guests, nations or not-nations, started cheering and waving at us as soon as Antonio and I, while clumsily holding on to each other, joined them in the impressive crowd.

God, and even though it was a bit overwhelming for me, I could hear a lot of things they shouted and yelled at us, in-between patting us on our back and giving us teasing jabs with their elbows:

'Well, about time you guys showed up! I was about to send my brother outside to get you back here! With force! Because he's a major asshole who ate all of the meat of our table.' Luxembourg said and gave us a very content, fake smile, after which he quickly snapped open a cell phone and disappeared into the big brew of chatting people again when he saw the Netherlands glare and crack his knuckles at him.

'He's a dead man. And I like his phone. Dead men don't need phones. You do the math.' said Dutchman calmly informed me as he swiftly passed us by – and went straight after his younger brother.

As I watched him storm away like that (and _smoothly_, too), I felt a hand landing on my shoulder. The hand belonged to Australia, who flashed his sparkling teeth at me and grinned broadly.

'Oh, he'll be alright, mate! Don't worry about him! That Dutch feller is more bark than bite, don't you know! A bit like my stupid English brother! Hahaha! Great speech, by the way! A real _beaut_!'

'_My_ turn, you, like, _hillbilly_!'

Poland, coming out of _nowhere_, suddenly pushed the Australian out of the way – who bumped into Seychelles and immediately began complimenting her on her dress with stylish fish-patron ("Ohh, talking about a real _beaut_! Is that a genuine herring-motive?").

'Um, yeah, so I'd _also_ like to say that I thought your vows were very, like, beautiful and stuff.' Poland said, his r's rolling a bit (I suspected that empty can of heavy beer in his _soft-yellow _pants – well, at least they weren't _pink_ – was the one to blame).

'…oh, and another thing – your _jacket_. Romano. _Unf_. VERY mature. Like, totally. Black _definitely_ suits your buns. Posture, I mean. And it suits your campy Spaniard as well. Seriously: _unf_.'

'Campy?' Antonio repeated with furrowed brows. 'Ah, I _knew_ I should have picked another, more serious color of tie…'

I reassured him. 'Your tie-color is serious enough, Antonio – it's fucking _black_. Pick a color of tie more serious than that one and you could be somebody going to a damn _funeral_. You're not camp.'

Antonio looked a bit relieved. 'I'm not?'

'Well, we can check if you want to. Are you either a Feliciano or a Poland, Antonio?' I asked him.

'I don't think I'm any of those…' Antonio said.

'Then it's settled – you're not camp.' I contently patted him on the chest. 'Good for both you and me: now I don't have to fear you'll start wearing pink all of a sudden.'

'It's a nice color, though!~'

'No, it's _**evil**_.'

'It's just a color, Lovi.'

'That says _nothing_! _**Evil**_ can come in many forms. And _colors_, apparently.'

'Maybe it's trying to follow the latest trends in fashion?'

'…_what_?'

All of a sudden, Poland laughed – or actually snorted – and made a very _gayish_ hand gesture at us. You know the one.

'Oh nooo, did I, like, say that _Spain_ was camp? Sorry – I actually meant, like, _you_, Romano. You're, like, so cute and cuddly and _totally _camp. You're like a slightly less handsome and more pissed-off version of me, really!'

…

…

Luckily for him, Lithuania then popped up behind him, right on time (two seconds later and I _would_ have _cracked_ Poland's _nuts_), and the Lithuanian grinned apologizing at both me and Antonio as he hastily pushed the Polish man away from us.

'Come along now, Feliks, leave the nice newlyweds alone – and go say sorry to Australia later. You can't go pushing others around like that!'

I could see Poland pouted while being shoved away by his friend.

'Aww! But I don't _want _to, like, say sorry to him! He dresses like a total _nobody_! And I only know a few nobodies. Like… well…'

'…don't you say it.'

'In that case, I, like, just look at you very meaningfully.'

Lithuania groaned. 'Feliks, _why_ did you say it? _Why_? _Why_ do you think it's necessary to _constantly_ annoy me?'

I wasn't able to hear Poland's answer – they walked off to far for that and it was _really _loud here – but I _did_ notice the Polish man started to smile as he replied to his friend – and Lithuania started to blush very badly in response.

…

…

Moving right along…

'Ah, the food was something very special! I want to meet the chef!' I all of a sudden heard Russia say somewhere behind me (not sure if he was talking to me or Antonio or somebody else though), '…where is he?~ That mean man. I would like to let him/her know mine and my screwdriver's personal opinion on his gruesome mashed potatoes that send me running to the littlest room!~'

'G-go warn that poor chef, go warn him _now_!' Estonia hissed to Latvia, '…change his name, change his nationality, take him to some place safe and warm and far, far away from Mister Russia – oh, and make sure you get that recipe, too. It could come in handy.'

But Latvia stood still as a rock. No, as the "living" version of the painting _The Scream_. Completely with the hands on the face and the frozen expression on it and all.

...

Or maybe he was just waiting _really_ anxiously for me to bring him his promised piece of cake already.

…

…what? It was possible! You don't know how _good_ our cake was, dammit!

I didn't got much time to think about the Latvian, though, because my already very distracted thoughts then were mercilessly disturbed some more by a very noisy Denmark, a bit of a slur in his tone of voice as he opened his yap.

'Hey, you two lovely lovebirds! Welcome! Welcome back to the _partey_!'

He attempted to wink charmingly at me.

He ended up temporary closing _both _of his eyes.

…

Charming indeed.

'That's not winking. That's _blinking_. Idiot.' Norway dryly scoffed at him when he saw Denmark's well-meant eye-fluttering. 'Don't come near me. You might infect me with your stupidness germs.'

Finland started chuckling nervously ('Um, please don't start fighting now…') and Sweden rolled his eyes in silent despair, before the Norwegian man turned to me and gave me a slight nod of the head.

'Ah. You're one of those married homosexuals. Hi.'

I gave him a just as small nod back.

'Yeah, that's m—'

'You look like a man.'

I stared at him, irritated.

'Thank you. _You_ look like a girl.'

'Yes. I know. It's weird.' Norway looked into his half-empty glass. 'I think I drank too much.'

…

…well, judging by the unusual red hue of his face, his inability to remember his own gender and the emotional glint in his eyes…

**Yes**. Norway **had** drank too much. WAY too much.

Norway walked away again.

…

It looked a bit like… gliding.

…

…well, that wasn't too bad, I guess.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what other kinds of interesting things I would see toni—

Oh.

…

Right.

Standing/hopping just a few meters away from me, Feliciano captured my attention. He was surrounded by the guests and jumped on Germany's back so that he could give happy air-kissy-hands (oh _god_) to, well, _everybody_, just because he could, _vee vee vee veeeee_.

And oh, right over there – no doubt, that was Femke, cheerfully handing out huge trays of beer she had put on a big… I don't know, waitressing-board or something, as she skillfully _sailed _through the heap of people and nations.

And right behind her, _Russia_ appeared, awkwardly staggering after her with a confused, flustered look on his face that I couldn't really place (drunk, smitten or constipated – who could tell?).

Ah. And there Belarus was.

And there her _knife_ was.

And there security was.

Also, tourists.

Tourists and ugly shirts _everywhere_.

…

This way going to be a long evening, wasn't it…

**xXx**

…

…

Still, long evening or not, I noticed I was secretly enjoying myself quite a bit.

I mean, let's be honest here – it _was _kind of fun. Having silly little conversations and moments with groggy/slightly tipsy/plain weird nations that just kept on coming to me and Antonio to congratulate us once again, or comment on the wedding ceremony, or make teasing remarks about our wedding night that was just a few hours away…

The Netherlands even promised me he'd come by each and every hour from now on until Antonio and I would be allowed to go to our hotel room.

'Don't think anything unnecessary about it. See it as some moral support. To sex.' he calmly explained to me upon seeing my horrified, grossed-out expression.

…

…o-of course, I immediately assured him, very _panicky _assured him, that he really, _really _didn't have to do that. He would do me a bigger favor if he… _wouldn't_ stalk me around for the rest of the evening.

'Oh. In that case, I'll just give you a thingie… you know, a very clever and badass Smartphone-styled sort of message every hour – how does that sound? Very _tenties_, right?' the Netherlands suggested.

'Tenties?'

'You know. Like the nineties and the eighties, but more recent. The _tenties_. Get it?'

I narrowed my eyes at him – and "his" cell phone.

'Yes, I get it. But no, thank you.'

He seemed surprised. 'You sure? Now that I have this phone, I can contact you all you want without feeling anxious about the bill later, you know.'

'Ohh, I believe you.'

'Hm. Maybe I should make some long, heart-to-heart phone calls to Cameroon. To check what he's up to. And what he had for lunch. Deep stuff like that.'

'JUST GIVE YOUR BROTHER'S PHONE BACK TO HIM.'

'Denied.'

Just like that, the Netherlands abruptly took off again – and I just let him go, because one: it just was too crowded in here to keep an eye on him, two: I didn't feel like being the peacemaker and reuniting fucked-up family members today, and three…

…

…well, that crazy motherfucker was way too _fast_ for me, dammit. He _plowed_ so rapidly through maze of persons and people, it was a matter of seconds before I couldn't even see him and his sharkfin-hair anymore.

Alas…

…

Stupid fucking _jackass_.

I groaned and wanted to complain to Antonio about all the craziness happening around us, when right at that moment said Spaniard softly squeezed my waist, nodding his head towards a single person that was standing in the middle of the lively crowd – the lively crowd that now quickly started to change into some kind of… circle.

…

Yes, that really was a circle forming. _Right_ in front of my eyes.

…

Oh god.

I had a very upsetting feeling about this…

As if the devil had got something to do with it, a bright, no, _hellish _spotlight was suddenly put on – and it shone down on a smiling and very eager-looking brunette, standing in the now open spot in the middle of the circle, holding a microphone and a copy of the schedule in her hands.

Huh.

So during the last few minutes, Hungary had apparently found a opportunity to arrange the mike and automatic crowd-circle-forming… and she looked like she had a _lot_ more "surprises" up her sleeve, like she was _just getting_ _started_.

_Fuck_.

'Okay, 1, 2, 3, test, test, test… can everybody hear me? Test, test?' her now very loud, somewhat mechanical-sounding (with the annoying hard mike-noises and peeps that were like torture for your ears) voice _blasted _through the entire room.

Within _seconds_, all of the shamelessly loud laughing, chatting, yelling and _stampeding_ around me decreased in volume and almost magically changed into excited, but _humble_ giggling, whispering, murmuring and pit-pattering.

…

_Behold_ – the almighty power of the Hungary.

Now that I think about it… just how much power, might and blackmail-shit about others did that woman _have_, really?

…o-on second thought, did I even _want_ to know?

'Hello? Helloooo?'

Hungary frowned at the microphone and tapped her finger on it.

_BOOF BOOF BOOF_

I winced and heard several pained cries and repressed cussing words coming out of the people around me.

'CHRIST, CUT THAT OUT!'

'My ears! GAH!'

'She doing it on purpose, that blasted _she-devil!'_

Hungary pretended she hadn't heard or seen anything and tried again, bringing the mike closer to her face again.

'Yes? Can you all hear me now?~'

A collective "yes" – and an occasional "bitch, **fuck** **off**" – was shouted back at her in reply.

'Well good!~' The Hungarian female smiled delightedly. 'Then I'll now happily announce to you all that the time has finally come… yes, the time has come for us to… well, who knows?~'

Greece raised his hand.

'To take a nap?'

Hungary chuckled. 'No, silly!~ We have to do something else first!~'

Switzerland raised his hand.

'Is it time to get a bigger party room? I can barely move around here.'

'No… and _maybe_ that huge gun that you're carrying around is the reason of your lack of space. Would you _please_ put that away, Switzerland.'

Sweden raised his hand as well.

She saw it. 'Ah!~ What do you think, Sweden?'

The tall, spectacled man frowned.

'T' 'ave s'ving 'n 'ttle s'ack?'

Hungary looked troubled.

'…why in the _world _are you talking about shaving a little sack, dear?'

Understandably, Sweden looked offended – but he couldn't vocally express his discontentment, because the wild-mass guessing continued (and because the poor guy just wasn't very good at it in general):

'Is it time to get us some more food?' England asked.

'To get us some _better _food?' America added.

'To get my cell phone back?' Luxembourg huffed sourly.

'It's mine now.' the Netherlands said.

'T-to get Russia off my back…?' Femke stammered.

'To get Belgium _on_ mine?' Russia smiled sweetly.

'Play hide-and-seek?' Sealand grinned.

'Carry on with the tour?' a disgruntled tourist commented.

'Spread some… _love_?' France smirked suggestively.

'GET YOUR HANDS _OFF_ ME, YOU FUCKFACE!' I kick-France's-face'ed.

…

…I think I don't need to point out that Hungary didn't look too pleased to see what she was seeing, but oh, look at that, I just did.

The brunette made an annoyed face, putting a hand on her hip as she shushed the now very restless guests by saying "ssssssshhh!" through the mike – and oh, there's _nothing_ as horrible to listen to as to a person that was aggressively hissing/lisping/slurring through a cheap microphone.

'NO!' Hungary snapped afterwards, while the rest of us was still busy trying to recover from the severe ear-rape,

'…no no no no, none of that! Come on, has _none_ of you read the schedule? Does nobody know what's going to happen now? Shame on you! If you were students, you… well, were all going to score very _badly_ on your test!'

Estonia looked up from his super-ultra-high-tech tablet thingamajig, a bit startled.

'Test? We get one? Wait, how much more time do I have left to study for that?'

Hungary just ignored him.

'Oh! Oh! I know, veee!~' Feliciano then suddenly started to shout out, sliding off Germany's back, '…it's time for us to _dance_!~ Right, Big Sister Hungary? It says right here on the paper that we should do that now! Me and Ludwig and Lovi and Big Brother In Law Toni first!~'

'Yes!' Hungary made a little and very strange hop in the air. '_Finally_ somebody who paid attention to the schedule! Nice job, Veni!~ You're right, it's indeed time for us to start with the dancing part of the evening! Our sickening-sweet newlyweds Roma, Spain, Veni and Germany will dance the opening dances!~'

Feliciano flung his arms in the air and mouthed a "yay!". He had probably said the actual word out loud, but since the guests instantly started clapping their hands and, frankly, just making a lot of happy noises, my brother's shrill yelling was, in a way, _swallowed_ by the others.

…

As for me…

…I-I felt myself shrink more and more as I realized just how many curious glances were cast my way – and I instinctively took a firmer hold on Antonio's jacket.

'Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.'

Antonio noticed my shaking and gave me a big, broad smile, grabbing one of my hands.

'Well!~ Are you ready to show these wimps who _rules_ the dance floor, Lovino? Like you did at Austria's ball almost two years ago?'

…

…

… o-oh.

He did it again.

Saying the right thing on the right moment.

…

It was just one of the many reasons why I had got married to him.

And it was all thanks to Antonio's reassuring smile (and that quasi-nonchalant remark about my _indeed_ pretty awesome dance-skills) that I felt my self-confidence increase, bit by bit.

'You know what?' I eventually said, looking up at him with a straightened back, '…I think I'm ready to do _just_ _that_, Antonio.'

He laughed. 'Good!~ I'm glad to hear that!'

Then, out of nowhere (okay, _probably_ out of the ceiling), two sharp beams of light where put on us: one on me and Antonio and one of my younger brother and Germany.

GAH!

The shock and the light paralyzed me – but just a bit, really, because Antonio's protective hand around mine made me feel a lot better right away. His hands always had that effect on me, whether I was standing in the spotlight surrounded by nutjobs or… I don't know, standing in the local supermarket or whatever.

Anyway…

Hungary twirled around to grin at us as Antonio and I took a first resolute step forwards. When I slyly looked to the side, I saw Feliciano and Germany do the same.

'Are you ready to move your feet, dears? We know _we_ are! Give it up for our two cute couples, our very own, freshly married, incredibly sexy, crazy adorable, tight-suit-wearing, handsome-butt-wielding… _Romano_, _Veneciano_, _Spain_ and _Germany_! Yes! Here they _**come**_!~'

Okay.

Okay.

I breathed in and out and then I determinedly walked to the middle of the circle, together Feliciano and Germany, but _mostly_ together with Antonio.

Okay.

Let's _**do this**_.

**xXx**

While Feliciano and Germany assumed a pretty basic dance position the fucking _minute _they had entered the middle of the crowd-circle – and while Hungary at that same time rushed out of the middle to get the music started…

…I decided to simply _forget_ about the scariness of those _gleaming _eyes around me, if only for a little while, and to just focus myself on the part that was coming now, namely the "dancing-with-Antonio" and "entertaining the _crap_ out of this audience" -part.

With all of my burning-hot desire to get some damn _acknowledgement_ from the rest of Europe, I should be able to do that.

…

T-that's what Antonio thought as well, after all.

'Okay…' I muttered, _scraping_ my throat as I positioned myself in front of the already very jumpy Spaniard – and grabbed his lower arms to keep him in one place, dammit, that annoying moron.

'What's the matter, my love?' Antonio asked, grinning almost _ecstatically _at me as the big lights dimmed and the mumbling of the people around us was slowly but surely weakening, as if somebody had used a very powerful remote controller on them.

'This dance…' I started, talking very softly now, '…that's going to come, I mean… do you have _any_ idea what kind of dance it's going to be?'

Antonio didn't immediately answer… and put his hands on my waist.

'Ah, I only know that Hungary will probably use… really clichéd, corny Spanish, Italian and German songs. You know, the typical traditional stuff. All of them instrumental, too.'

I stared at him, bewildered.

'You didn't know?' Antonio asked.

'No! How come you DO know about that!'

'Well, I _didn't_ space out during our walk back to the hotel, Lovi, unlike _somebody~_ else, ahahaha… Hungary happened to tell us all about the music when we were on the road.'

'…oh, _great_. Something else I missed?' I muttered, sighing.

'…yes.'

Antonio _abruptly_ slid his hands behind my back, on my ass, and _jerked _my lower body against his own, our groins colliding pretty roughly as I fucking _smacked_ into him.

'O-_ow_!' I yelped.

'…ah, maybe you should also know that almost _none_ of the songs or dances that are going to come tonight… will be _slow _or _mushy _ones, Lovino… They're all sensual, temperamental, suggestive and, in short, just downright _sex_.'

Oh. He was _hard_.

I swallowed and shivered when I felt his sudden _husky_ breathing on my ears – let alone that damn _tongue_ of his, giving a quick, needy lick to my earlobe – but, amazingly enough, I _still_ managed to keep a cool head, smirking cheekily as I looked up to him, nonchalantly pressing the palms of my hands against his heaving chest.

'…well, looks – and _feels_ – like I'm not the only one who's slightly sexually frustrated.'

'I told you I could go for a hump or two.' Antonio said, smirking back at me.

'So you were talking about… songs and dances that will be sex, right?' I chuckled and teasingly poked his chest, aiming for a nipple.

He grunted lowly. 'That's right…'

'…and… what is it exactly that you want to say with that, hm…?' I carried on, now casually pushing a finger on the spot of his torso where his nipple should be – and upon seeing Antonio's flushing face, I just _knew_ it was right _there_.

Antonio's eyes got dark and hungry and I couldn't help it, I just had to gulpagain when he moved his face so closely to mine that his lips brushed my lips. I felt he was slowly starting to grind and rock his hips seductively against mine, like he always did when he was about to dance with me…

…or get me into bed.

'I think you know _very_ _well_ what I mean to say, Lovino…' his lusty voice told my lips, his hands already dancing lazily over the curves of my ass and hips, and I uttered a heated mix of a moan, a snicker and a sigh.

'…f-fucking tease…' I murmured, firstly licking, then biting my lower lip as "innocently" as I could, and pulled my body against him even more demandingly, '…don't think you can dominate all of the dances tonight, you bastard… I can kick and squeeze some ass as well, dammit…'

He laughed. 'You're wishing to _challenge_ me, Lovi…?'

'No.'

I gave him a disturbingly dirty, provoking look.

'…I'm just telling you you won't be the only one leading tonight.'

Antonio opened his mouth, but shut it again when I stood on the tip of my toes, gently nipping his throat.

I could hear a weird little sound escaping from his lips and I smiled, pulling back after a last tender bite.

'…am I clear, Antonio?'

He wordlessly stared at me for a second, the skin of his throat red and a bit bruised.

Then he smiled at me as well, nodding and moving his lips over mine once again.

'You're _loud_ and clear, Lovino… loud and clear…'

'Good…'

I kissed him.

'Very good…'

I kissed him again.

'…very very _very_ good, even…'

I now wrapped my arms around him, _crashed_ our lips together like they were _supposed _to, and _fuck_, I wanted to _show him _some goddamn _kissing_, dammit, wanted to _plunge _my tongue into his mouth so damn _badly_, wanted to just _grab _him, and _have _him, and _give _him…

…and then the music started to play.

**xXx**

…

…well, when there was music starting to play all of a sudden, no matter in what badly-timed situation you might be into, there really is only one thing you can do…

_Dance_.

Especially when others are expecting it from you.

Especially when you _yourself _are expecting it from you.

Not only because it's in your DNA as an Italian/Spaniard, but because you just… really, really like to do it.

With that one other guy.

…

I'm talking about me and Antonio, by the way.

…

You know, in case that wasn't clear enough already.

…

So anyway, after both Antonio and I got aware of the music – fast, passionate, tangy, quick-paced Latino-esk music, Latino-esk music that _nobody_ couldstand still on…

We simply _began_.

And we began in our very own way.

We held on to each other as tightly as we could and we started to move.

Moving our hips and upper body experimentally in time with the music. Moving our hands over the hot body of the other one. Moving _everything_ – except for our eyes, which never lost contact with the other pair.

Although the music was fast and upbeat, _we _weren't – and the entire first dance, we just slowly circled around each other, both me and Antonio too hesitant and _loving_ to take full control... and too greedy and _selfish_ to give it to the other one at the same time.

Like a lion and his prey – only nobody knew who was the lion and who the prey.

It was, no doubt, a weird dance.

Sensual, filled with desire, filled with wanton. I felt it as I kept my body as closely to his as I could. I heard it in our almost inaudible grunts and sighs as we touched. I saw it in every single move he made, in every single move I made.

Still, our dance was… _fantastic_.

Whether he attempted to give me a swift spin or denied me to give _him _a spin, we still managed to put up quite a show for the audience who were, whenever I subtly glanced their way, watching us in awe.

I didn't know what dance it was.

And I didn't know who was leading.

But I did know that I was feeling manlier, stronger and greater than I had ever felt before during a dance… no, during a social _dilemma_.

Yes. This was a lot more than mere dancing – this was a _discussion_.

A very serious discussion… and nobody was winning. Not Antonio, not me.

Yet I felt _amazing_.

Why was that?

Why?

…

Oh, well, whatever the damn reason was, I happened to like it.

**xXx**

There wasn't a lot of time to recover from our first dance when the last accords of the first song faded away, because almost immediately, the second song echoed through the room.

Heh.

Kind of a low blow, if you asked me: Antonio and I hadn't even decently regained our breaths yet, and there the music was, playing again – oh, and also, there were Feliciano and Germany as well, twirling around all cutesy and shit.

…

…which was very strange, because the music that was playing _now _was even more sexual than the first one.

Slower. Nastier. Bigger.

More desperate. More erotic.

More _aggressive_, even. Even the guitar strings sounded angry – but in a very attractive, irresistible way.

This wasn't a dance you should… _hop _and _spring _on.

Not at all. I knew it wasn't.

Luckily, Antonio knew that as well.

…

…

When the opening of the song was rapidly coming to its end, Antonio and I finally exchanged glances with one another.

We grinned at each other – shyly, excitedly, maybe even _arrogantly_ – and all of a sudden, we knew what kind of response would be the best on this kind of edgy, almost dangerous music.

What kind of… _control_ would be the best.

'Ah, well. I get it. Oh, I _get_ it.'

Antonio's eyes sparkled mischievously as he distanced himself from me and started to unbutton his jacket, revealing his white, maybe a tad too big blouse underneath it.

'…if we're going to dance on _this_… we better do it like _this_.'

And with that, he slid the jacket off his shoulders, off the body that that jacket was holding prison all this time, and just _swung _it behind him, not even caring to look behind him as the jacket landed on France's head (read: was ruthlessly smacked into France's fuckface, _yesss, _serves him _right_).

When the jacket was off, Antonio hooked his thumbs behind his suspenders(_god_, that's right, his suit had those for some reason extremely_ kinky_ suspenders), which he _pulled_ and let _go_ again, making them _snap _against his upper body.

He didn't wince or cringe for one second, though: he just beamed a smile at me as he observed me, a smile that I could only describe as _predatory_.

'…come here already, Lovino.'

'Yeah? You want me to come to you?'

I laughed and slipped out of my own neat jacket as well, handing it over to Femke (_what_ – sizzling Spaniard tempting me or not, no fucking way I was tossing it on some gross Frenchman's fuckface so carelessly) before I took a few testing steps towards Antonio.

'…if you want me _that_ much, then why don't you just grab me already?'

He frowned, but also took a step forwards.

'How do I know you _want_ me to just grab you? How do I know, Lovino, that I'm doing something… the _right _way? The way you _want_ it to be?'

I felt another smile, or actually a combination of a teasing smirk and a genuinely touched smile, tug harshly at the corners of my mouth.

'You _don't_ know. You can't _always_ know what others want from you. Remember? Just like communicating with other living beings, you'll just have to push your luck sometimes… and hope you don't end up accidentally hurting somebody…'

The Spanish man's green orbs widened and, if only for a very short time, I saw admiration and something looking a lot like respect and understanding inside of them.

Then he took one last step towards me – and took a very firm, very steady, very confident hold on my hips.

'In that case, I'll just grab you.'

I nodded at him. 'Okay.'

'I'm taking control for this dance.'

'Okay.'

'I expect you to be very clear to me if you want to take it over.'

'I already told you you won't be the only one leading tonight, Antonio. I thought I had already _been_ pretty loud and clear on that.'

'You had been _very_ loud and clear on that! I just needed to know _when_. You weren't loud and clear about _that_.'

'I had my reasons.'

'Yeah, I'm sure you had, you damn tease.' Antonio let out a short laugh and curled his fingers into my pants, just over the edge of the black fabric.

'Anything wrong with that?' I mumbled, raising an eyebrow, '…like I _always_ need to be loud and clear about everything – shit, just use your fucking _head_ every once in a while, dammit…'

'Okay.' The Spaniard smiled again. 'You don't need to be clear about everything – and neither do I. Right?'

'Right.'

'But can I be clear about one thing, Lovi?'

Antonio didn't wait for my answer and abruptly pulled my face closer to his own, his face straight and serious.

'We're going straight to our hotel room after the next dance, Lovino.'

I stared at him, a light, giddy feeling filling my head.

'We are?'

'Yes. I just can't stand this feeling I have inside for much longer anymore. I need you. And I _want_ you. Regardless of _how_. I only know that I need to be with _you_.'

Antonio sounded persistent, wetting his lips and swallowing a lump.

'…i-is _**that**_ clear, my love?'

…

I-I could only nod.


	78. Dignity

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Well, here's hoping you can read my chapter. The alerts aren't working the way they are supposed to be, so if you didn't get a notice - it's still here! A brand-new chapter! Ohh!~**

_A/n1: So I've heard that Gotye's song "Somebody that I used to know" is starting to become a big hit overseas!  
__YAY! That really makes me so very happy! Remember I told you about that song, almost a year ago? I think I even wrote a bit about it in my A/n's, but I'm too lazy to check it. _XDDDDD  
_While his song is already old news in the Netherlands and Belgium (and also the biggest hit of the Dutch Top 50 ever), England and America are, or so I have read, starting to realize what an awesome song Gotye's is.  
__That's great!_^^ _That song really deserves more love!  
__Oh pfffrrt, hear me talking. Sorry about my gushing. I'm just very excited about this!~_

_A/n2: With just a few more chapters to go (or so the rumors are _XDDDDD_), I've thought a lot about what to make as a thank-you chapter for all of you guys.  
__And guess what?_  
…_I-I don't think I can do it, really…_^^;;;  
_I'd love to make a last chapter in which I would thank all of you, but there are simply too many of you… and I'm scared to death I might forget a reviewer or two. That would be awful, almost as if that reviewer wasn't important enough for me…  
__Also, my school's been demanding more and more time every week – and that's normal, I should spend more time to it, now that the school year is coming to its end.  
__So…  
__I-I have to disappoint you… I won't make a thank-you chapter.  
__Sorry. I'm so sorry. I hate to (don't) do this, but I have no other choice.  
__I… really hope you understand…_

_A/n3: *reads the other two A/n's*  
__Don't you just __**love**__ the moodswings in my A/n's!~ _XDDDDD

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXVIII:

_**Dignity  
**__**(New Politics)**_

When Antonio and I finally began to dance on the searing-hot rhythm of the music, I instantly knew that Antonio hadn't exactly been lying about what he had said about him, taking over control.

Because he _took _it.

_God_.

He took it _completely_.

After I had nodded at him, confirming that way that his… _musings_ over what the two of us should be doing for the rest of the evening after the dancing had been over sounded like a… v-very good idea to me, Antonio had effortlessly shoved me against his body, one of his hands slipping into the back of my pants while the other one took a resolute hold on my hand.

'Ah, now that's decided… let us dance some more, sweetie…' Antonio had murmured in my ear, placing little kisses on it, '…there won't be another chance to dance after this and the next song's over, so you better enjoy it while you can.'

I had wanted to say something cool, maybe even a tad distant in return, just to taunt him, but he didn't give me the time – and harshly _dragged_ me over the hard floor, the heels of our shoes clacking over the wood.

Antonio's hold felt strong around me. Strong and professional, like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

I think he indeed knew what he was doing. Especially since I noticed he seemed to have a got lot more confidence now that he had officially told me that _he_ was the one leading – he now knew what he was up to. And therefore, what _I _was up to as well.

It felt great.

To see him this comfortable and confident with the dancing, I mean.

…a-and to dance with him in general, of course.

His hands were sure and his steps were like well-planned out movements, never missing a beat. His warm, slick, shameless body stuck to mine like they were one with each other – and his body kept demanding mine to roll my hips like that, move my feet like this, move away and right back at him like that, etcetera, etcetera…

Obviously, the dance was a Cha-Cha.

And for those who are more likely to think of a twerpy Chihuahua-dog instead of a Latin dance when hearing Cha-Cha…

…you _really_ need to get out some more.

…

Anyway…

The Cha-Cha is a playful, yet steamy dance. A dance, overflowing with suggestive moves and touches, that could be as flirty and sensual as the dancers wanted it to be. Hands could be placed anywhere on the body, as long as the legs and the feet had enough room to move freely over the dance floor. Dancers could have some distance between their bodies, but it wasn't really necessary…

…and that's probably what Antonio must have thought as well, because he made sure there wasn't even room for a fucking _needle _in-between our bodies.

Our chests and lower bodies… the Spaniard constantly made sure that these parts were connected, one way or the other. It's a fucking miracle I never tripped over his or my own feet, dammit, because during this dance, I never saw them even _once_.

That's because Antonio kept looking at me – and I kept looking at him.

…

…i-it's pretty neat when you trust a person so much that you don't even need to pay attention to the music or to your feet when dancing. In my case, I've been with Antonio so long, I could already tell what he was aiming for (with his steps, his short tugs on my hand whenever he made a seemingly easy turn on his heels, his hand that was still resting on my lower back) if he did as much as _look_ at me.

S-so that's what he was doing. Pulling me, maneuvering me, _leading _me through the many steps of the Cha-Cha, just by looking me in the eyes.

Big, if only somewhat narrowed now.

Green. Bright. Clear. Loving.

N-no doubt about it: his eyes were the best guidelines I had ever read.

**xXx**

Near the ending of the Cha-Cha song, Antonio slowed down his ambitiously quick dancing a bit, right on cue – and in time with the music, too. It wasn't much, judging from the way I could still feel my legs leaning, bending, stepping and shuffling over the floor in a everything _but _slow pace, but it was enough for me to now be able to talk with him.

And since talking was the best invention right after disgustingly loving lovemaking, I was very glad to do just that.

…

_Talking_, that is. _Not_ lovemaking.

N-not _yet_.

'…w-well.' I said, as calmly as I could, although my throat felt alarmingly dry and hoarse, '…that dance wasn't… too bad, I guess…'

Antonio smiled down at me and nodded in agreement, not stopping our dancing just yet.

'I'm glad you enjoyed it, Lovi.'

'Did… did you enjoy it as well?' I asked him, casually straightening his blouse with a caressing move of my free hand.

His smile grew broader – and he now _did_ stop dancing.

'Lovino, I got to _publicly_ touch your ass, pant down your neck, press your boner against my groin and watch your face get a hundredth different shades of red. So yes, you could say I had a pretty good time. Ahahaha!~'

'Ass face. Way to fucking _flip off _the mood.' I glared at him and instantly tried to pull myself free.

Antonio laughed and _somehow_ succeeded in winding both of his arms around me, pressing mine against my sides as he leaned closer to me and affectionately nuzzled one of my fire-red cheeks, that I had demonstratively turned away from him.

'…ah, but I also enjoyed myself because I got to dance with you, my love, and drown in your beautiful eyes, and feel your heartbeat thumping so desperately against my chest, as if it was trying to give me an _unbearably_ sweet message from its handsome owner…'

'Hmnf…' I let out a unimpressed puff of breath, but didn't protest in the least when he softly kissed my cheek, simultaneously turned my face back to him, and, in the end, when I was facing him again, kissed my lips as well.

His kiss was careful and sweet and tasted so damn _happy_, i-it fucking heated up my entire internal system, d-dammit, making me feel just as wonderful and happy as Antonio was.

'…you're lucky I'm feeling s-so damn good now, dammit…' I mumbled under my breath, gripping his blouse, '…f-_fuck_, I'd fucking _hate_ you if I didn't already _love_ you for making me feel this way…'

'Ah… it's a nice feeling, isn't it, sweetie…' Antonio chuckled, his forehead resting against my own as his eyes kept watching me.

'It's okay.' I allowed myself to smile a bit at him and managed to wriggle free one of my arms, gently placing it on his face.

'…h-have I told you… that y-you're looking really good today, Antonio?'

'I'm not sure.' He blushed and hugged my torso a bit. 'You've told me so many sweet things, I've lost track of them.'

'Oh. Well… s-should I tell you, then?' I stammered.

'Only if I can cuddle and stand a bit longer with you like this in return.'

'Deal.' I felt my smile became a bit bigger. 'You're looking really good today, A-Antonio…'

'Thank you very much, my lovely Lovi. So do you. So do you…'

There was something like a shiver going over my spine as he hugged me and I moaned quietly when he gave me a tender lick in the crook of my neck.

'A-Antonio…'

'Lovino… ah, I-I can't wait to be alone with you, Lovi…'

I heard myself utter something sounding like a sigh and a laugh.

'W-well… just one more dance, you said… think you can do that…?'

'Hmmn…' He groaned against my skin. '…ugh, I'll _have_ to – I need to have more time to think of something to get the both of us out of this room…'

Grinning a bit, I patted his shoulder.

'Oh, you'll think of something. I'm sure you will. You don't need to use much of your questionably brain capacity for the next dance anyway.'

'I don't?' He backed off a bit, blinking his eyes.

'No…' I shook my head and breathed in deeply. '…b-because _I'm _in control of the next dance.'

'Ah, that's true.' Antonio smiled and stood up more straightly, fixing his cuffs and suspenders. '…I wonder what kind of song we'll get now…'

'So do I. Hmmm… wait, maybe Hungary knows more…'

I looked away from him, into the audience. I was searching for the Hungarian brunette, to see if that weird… creature could give me some sort of hint about what the next song would be like, but I was slightly distracted by the other people in the crowd, that all of a sudden started moving themselves to the middle of the circle as well.

'What the fuck?' I instinctively snorted, watching – for example – Monaco and France standing somewhere behind me and Antonio, her hand in his as she frowned at him and nagged about his other hand ('Big brother, _please_ remove your hand off my butt _this _instant, or I'll have to do something really unpleasant with your… _dices_.').

Antonio had noticed the ruckus as well and also let his eyes glance over all the couples that were spontaneously forming around us, like…

…America and England ('I don't care you're almost a head taller than me, you snotty brat! I wouldn't even care if you were a _thousand_ bloody heads taller than me! _I'm_ leading – and that's _that_! Now put that cookie away and grab my tush!')…

…Finland and Sweden ('D-dancing? S-sure, but… please watch out you don't stomp my toes again, okay? I really missed being able to feel my foot after the last time _that_ happened…')…

…Prussia and Canada ('It's okay, Mattie! With somebody as _**awesome**_ as _me _leading you, there's no way you could feel uncomfortable! I mean, has the _**awesome**_ me ever made you feel uncomfortable or annoyed? …Mattie? Have I? Matt? Hey? Mattie?')…

…and _freaking_ _Russia and Femke_ ('O-okay, _okay_! I'll dance with you, alright? Just… stop putting sunflowers in my beer. Hm? Y-yes, they were very beautiful. I-I liked them. Thank you.')…

…and there were a lot more expected, surprising, cute and strange little couples forming around us.

'Ohh… I see what's happening!~' Antonio then thoughtfully said, all of a sudden.

'What?' I asked, pressing myself more against him when Lithuania and Poland came standing next to us ('Like, you should totally lead, Liet. You have more, um, what's it called – testosterone and stuff in your system. Also, I'm tired and this, like, _awful_ room's interior design is bugging me so hard, I could totally bawl.')

Antonio smiled and was more than happy to move the both of us a bit to the side in order to make room for other couples.

'Well, the two opening dances were danced already by us newlyweds, sweetie!~ There was a first dance and a second one, and… yeah, now all of the other people here are free to dance!~'

'Oh, that's just motherfucking fantastic. Now that they're free to dance, _we _aren't free to dance anymore.' I bitterly said, rolling my eyes as I saw the Netherlands and Liechtenstein, _twisting away_ to the not-playing music.

…

…wha…

…

…dear mother of all that's _holy_ and _pure_…

'Oh no no no.'

Antonio _thankfully_ tore my eyes off the extremely _wrong _couple, making them focus on him again.

'Now, what did you promise me a few minutes ago, hmm?~'

I stared blankly at him for a few seconds before I got what he meant, and I exhaled, lingering on the breathing-out in silent protest.

'…yeah yeah, I promised you to also spend some more time with other living beings and complete morons than just _you_, because that's good for my social skills and shit.'

'Right.' Antonio nodded, looking very satisfied with my reply. '…soooo… what are you going to do now, hm?~'

'I'm going to dance with you anyway, with all the other persons around me, even though this floor is now packed-full of stupid jackasses and I'll probably end up trampling your toes, and my god, I'm going to have sooooo much fun doing it, it could be considered criminal.'

'That right! Very good!~ You learn fast, Lovi!' Antonio praised me, oblivious to my biting sarcasm as usual, and cheerfully kissed the very tip of my nose, holding me tightly.

'S-stupid…' I muttered, smiling very awkwardly and bashfully, '…you're just t-too stupid to hear my negative nagging, aren't you…'

He laughed softly.

'Your nagging isn't negative. It's way too _funny_ to be negative. _You're_ way too funny to be negative, sweetie…'

'…o-okay.' I mumbled, sheepishly plucking on his blouse, '…i-if you say so.'

'Better have some fun this last dance, hmm?~' Antonio continued, while folding his hand over my fumbling one.

'I will.' I nodded my head.

'You're leading, right?'

'You bet your tight-clad _ass _I am.' I assured him – and swiftly slid my hand away from his, only to put it back on his hand right after, on _top _of it.

Ha! If _that's_ not the ultimate sign of domination, I don't know what it is!

Antonio watched my focused expression amusedly, chuckling as he sneakily squeezed my side.

'Be gentle with me, will you?~'

Immediately, my head felt like _exploding _and I gave him a firm nod, gripping his hand as affectionately as I could.

'I-I will! O-of course I will! I-I'll be very gentle with you, v-very _very_ gentle! Y-you won't regret it! I-I'm _sure_ you won't! Just trust me!'

Antonio blinked bewilderedly at me.

…

…

…oh.

'…you…' I laughed stupidly, maybe even somewhat hysterically, '…y-you weren't talking about sex, were you?'

He shook his head.

'No.'

'Ah. You were talking about… me, leading in dancing, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Yeah. Okay.'

**Fuck**.

Fuckfuck_fuck_.

I felt like the biggest, most retarded, most inexperienced… _buffoon _ever and wanted to hide myself in Antonio's shirt to _shun_ my own stupid nervousness from him, but…

…to my surprise, the Spanish man's expression softened radically and I noticed a blush appearing on his attractive face.

'It's true that I wasn't talking about sex, but… but it's… nice to know you'll be… g-gentle with me, Lovino…'

'Y-yes…?' I stammered.

'Yes.'

'…o-okay.'

'Since I _am_ kind of nervous about it.'

'Y-you really… d-don't have to be, because I'll be… U-um… I'll be… y-you know…'

'I know, yes.'

'I-I won't hurt you. I'd… n-never want to hurt you…'

'I-I know…'

'…I…I _love_ you, after all…'

'I love you too…'

'…'

'…'

'…a-and I'll be a really gentle dancer, too!'

'What?'

…

Again, my head felt like it was about to pop from shame (what the fuck, "gentle dancer"? What on earth **was** a fucking "gentle dancer"? Somebody dancing in a teddybear-suit, on freaking _socks_?), but I bravely swallowed my pride and gave the taller man a resolute nod.

'…look, I'll… just be very gentle with doing… whatever the hell I'm supposed to do. Which is dancing, in this case. Because that can be very gentle, too. And I don't know why I'm still talking.'

Antonio blinked again, observing my glowing face and trembling limbs.

Then he grinned – a sound that sounded very beautiful to me that very moment.

'…ah, silly, silly Lovi… You just never fail to make me smile and thank God that I got to meet and _love_ someone as special and amazing like you, Lovino. Do you know that?~'

'Yes, I-I know that. I know everything. O-or at least a lot. But anyway… it's still very nice to hear that. Coming from your lips and stuff. Y-you know.' I gulped again, '…t-talking about stuff that never fails to make you smile… is there also a _dance_ that never fails to make you smile?'

'Of course!~'

'What is it?'

'Hmmm… well, a… Salsa or Jive always brighten my mood… ah, yes, always…' Antonio mused, looking up to the ceiling, temporary lost in thoughts.

'Okay.'

I – if I may day so – skillfully took hold of his hips and strategically positioned him a bit better in front of me, into the position of the Jive.

'…y-you see,' I started explaining as I felt his fascinated gaze rest on me, '…you just said that there won't be sugary and mushy songs… a-and we just had a Cha-Cha… and I think that first song was a Salsa… s-so I think the next dance… _could_ be a Jive…'

'It very likely.' Antonio agreed, obediently placing his hand on my own, now weirdly outstretched hand.

I smiled at him, relieved to feel his hand felt a lot surer than I had thought it would, and I wanted to say something to him, something like… I-I don't know, maybe just "I love you" again since that was such a nice thing to say to him… and it always seemed to make him just a little bit happier and more cheerful when he heard me saying it…

But then, all of a sudden…

…the music started playing.

And it wasn't a Jive-song.

It wasn't a Samba, Salsa or Tango-song, either.

It was…

…

It was Pachelbel's Canon.

…

…

Oh.

Of _course_ it was.

**xXx**

As the majority of the couples around us almost simultaneously started to "dance" (go ahead, call me a critic, but no way in fucking _hell_ that _that_ lame, lazy foot-over-the-floor-dragging that was going on could _ever_ be considered something as tasteful as actual _dancing_), I cursed under my breath and repeatedly shook my head.

Pachelbel's Canon in D minor.

Fucking Pachelbel's Canon in D minor.

…

I heard it more than once on Austria's ball.

I heard it more that once during the dance practice with Antonio.

And now, I would probably also hear it in my nightmares tonight, in a colorful America-mix.

"_Hahaha! Give it up for Johann, peeps! Yow! Take it away!"_

**More. Than. Once.**

…

…

Dammit.

Meanwhile, Antonio must have notice the long, floor-touching face I made, because he very smoothly and almost unnoticeably pressed himself close to me, his chest leaning against mine heavily as his arms slowly wound around my neck and his eyes silently, _lovingly_ looked into mine.

"It's Bastardbel's Motherfucking Canonball again!", I firstly wanted to snap at him, "…in _**Douchebag Major!**_", but…

…

…w-well, it's not very polite to snap at your husband in public…

…e-especially when it's a very nice, sweet and handsome husband…

…e-especially when it's… A-Antonio…

…

That's why I just forced myself to calm down, that, _luckily_, was a rather easy thing to do when there's a… s-someone special hanging around your neck, whispering sweet nothings and praising words to you.

'Ah, how good of you, Lovi…' Antonio muttered to me with a soft sigh, '…instead of making a huge fuzz about this – to be honest indeed amazingly annoying – song, you go along with it. I'm so proud of you, sweetie. So proud…'

I huffed, but then I shrugged, carefully wrapping my arms on his waist, enjoying the feeling of having… s-so much love a-and other sentimental stuff like that between my arms.

'…there's not much I can do about it, right? I mean, throwing a tantrum probably won't help a lot…'

'Hmm-hmm…'

Antonio smiled encouragingly at me when I took a few not-completely steady steps forwards, effortlessly moving his feet in time with mine.

'H-how am I doing?' I mumbled after a few very stressful minutes of slowly-but-surely more determinate… shuffling, '…I know it's not a Salsa or Jive, b-but—'

'Oh, you're a _natural_.' Antonio cut me off with a wink.

I snorted skeptically.

'Am _not_. It's just slowdancing again. Slowdancing isn't hard.'

'It isn't…?' Antonio said, one of his hands tenderly touching the back of my head – just a bit.

'N-no.' I frowned. '…it's… it's just another word for weird-ass cuddling in public in time with the dreamy music – and hell, Pachelbel's Canon actually isn't even the right kind of music to slowdance on – and nobody even finds it even _mildly_ disturbing.'

'It's not disturbing, Lovi…'

Antonio's warm breath softly hit my lips.

'…it's everything _but _disturbing, my love…'

I felt I got trouble swallowing again as I stared at him, my head feeling cottony and my eyes getting a bit… h-heavy.

'…e-everything _but_ disturbing, huh…'

Almost out of itself, one of my hands started to move downwards, cautiously following the curve of Antonio's fine, firm butt… and getting more and more feeling of that _wonderful,_ that _beautiful_ behind of his.

Antonio breathed in and out slowly, nodding.

'…that's right… it's not disturbing, it's kind of… _sensual_, really…'

He purposely arched his back.

That was enough reason for my other hand to start traveling south as well – and I croaked out a shaky moan when I all of a sudden had both of Antonio's ass cheeks in my hands.

'O-oh god, oh god…' I kept on stammering, burying my hot face in the crook of his neck.

Antonio laughed, surprised.

'Ah, what is it… don't get embarrassed now, you've touched and groped my ass before, sweetie…'

'…y-yeah, but… but never in public… at least, not _this _much in public…'

'Hmnn…' Antonio lisped, _deliciously_ lisped, '…it's not like anybody's paying attention to us anymore anyway…'

'…th-that's true… g-god… y-you smell nice… you _feel _nice…'

'So do y—_ah_.'

Antonio's breath hitched and his hand fisted itself in my hair when I lazily but _persistently_ grazed my teeth over the tanned, tender skin of his throat again, placing teasing, _sucking_ kisses on and around the still visible mark I had made just a little earlier.

I _had_ to do just that.

I couldn't help _but_ doing just that.

H-he was driving me crazy, so very crazy…

His smell, his taste, his voice, his warmth, his arms, his touch…

I wanted it.

I wanted it _all_.

So before I knew it, the soft little kisses became rougher, the ass-kneading became rougher and… h-hell, even his panting, right next to my ear as he kept on pressing himself against me, was…

_Rougher_.

Oh, so much _rougher_.

Rough and ragged.

A-also… the way… th-the way he kept on gasping my name, clinging to my shoulders, pulling my hair, moving, _rubbing _himself against me…

…it all made me feel like we were doing something amazing here.

And at a certain moment, I had finally reached that one mental point where you just… _stop_ thinking and act purely on… primary, animalistic instincts.

I didn't think anymore.

I just knew that I needed to push Antonio against a wall and kiss him like I was never going to kiss him ever again.

Yes.

I _absolutely_ needed to push Antonio against a wall and kiss him like I was never going to kiss him ever again.

Yet I was still… pretty _surprised_ when I slowly came to my senses again and realized I had indeed pinned Antonio against a wall and was kissing him so sloppily, so nastily, so downright _vulgarly_, it would have made my always-pondering heart skip at least six beats.

…

If…

If I could have observed myself right then, this was probably what I would have seen:

Antonio, harshly pressed against a wall. One of his legs around my waist, keeping me close to him, no matter what. His suspenders already slid down, slid down all the way. His blouse partially ripped open from the top. His hands holding my face, his eyes half-lidded, his forehead sweaty and slightly wrinkled and his lips somewhat opened, letting out soft gasps as his backside was still being groped, and uttering quiet moans as I rolled our hips against one another.

I would also see myself, groaning and whining "I love you" in his neck, over and over again, in the form of kisses, bites, hickeys and words. Holding him as tightly as I could while cherishing everything about him. Blushing my damn face off as I'd feel his gentle hands holding it so very carefully. Watching him breath. Kissing him. Letting _him_ kiss _me_. Loving that his raspy breath would collide with mine.

Hugging him. Wanting him. Adoring him. Feeling him.

Just _loving_ him, really.

And I would also see him smile and be happy. In between the kisses and the heavy tongue-fights and lusty noises, I'd see him _smile_ and feeling _happy_.

And I'd see myself smile and feeling happy.

And I'd see _us_ smile and feeling happy.

_Together_.

And I'd see an empty hallway.

…

…

…wait, back down to earth for a moment…

An empty hallway?

…

The _fuck_?

W-where _were_ we?

**xXx**

When the most intense clouds of intense lust were… well, drifted over us again and I had actually decided to take a break from nibbling Antonio's lower lip in order to look around me really quickly, still breathing in and out shamefully loudly, I noticed that Antonio and I weren't in the Celebration/Party/Forgot The Third Name Of That Dang Room anymore.

…

Which was, in a way, _good_, because I would never have dared to show my face on the streets of Barcelona (or any other street in _general_) again if all the familiar and less-familiar people on the wedding reception had been the unwilling/ _too _willing witnesses of my reckless Antonio-humping.

Hmm…

By the looks of it, it seemed to be that we were in a dark, or at least very badly lit narrow hallway now – I think it was the kind of hallway in which usually all the coats and robes and… I don't know, umbrella's and the like were being kept, because I think I was standing on something… yellow fake-furry. Ish.

…

Woops.

Let's hope Poland will forgive me for stomping on his coat.

There was also a red, fluffy scarf resting on Antonio's head that looked like it was simply _thrown_ on him. That didn't really make a lot of sense either (I mean, how did it even get on his head in the first damn place)…

…_unless_ we were standing close by a coat rack. Or coat stands. Or whatever the crap those things with those creepy hooks where you were supposed to hang clothes on were called, dammit. Because then, and only _then_, the zombie-fur-coat and red scarf of doom _would_ make sense.

In a way.

…

Oh, whatever.

I frowned, removed the stupid scarf from Antonio's head (it really was literally _resting_ on top of him, god, such a fucking weird image, although it also looked kind of cute) and I was about to say something to him, when Antonio, once again, pulled my face closer to his and gave me a sweet and long, looooong kiss on the lips again, only pulling back when I was starting to get problems breathing.

'…o-okay, h-how did we wind up _here_?' I then stammered at him, my cheeks fucking _flaming _as he smiled dreamily at me and traced his hands down my body, stopping at my waist.

'Ah, I'm…' Antonio chuckled absentmindedly gripping my hips, '…I'm not really sure, Lovi…'

'Wait, it's coming a bit back to me now…' I muttered – and gulped as I casually pulled my hands from his ass, gently pressing them against Antonio's chest instead, since it was a bit naked and I _liked_ that it was a bit naked.

Antonio grinned. He seemed to be very composed again, but his heartbeat still bounced around in his ribcage like somebody had firstly shook it around like a rattle and then tossed it away carelessly.

'It's coming back, you say? Tell me all about it, my love…'

'…it was pretty sudden…' I mumbled, staring at his exposed chest like it was the most beautiful fucking thing in the world, '…w-we were dancing on Pachelbel's Canon, and it was supposed to be really romantic and shit – even though you had told me yourself there wouldn't be much of that, you lying asshole – and then you suddenly started acting really sexy, a-and then I started… g-groping you…'

'You sure did.'

'And then… something with a wall…' I frowned deeply. 'I think I was looking for a wall. But I couldn't find one. Well, not an empty one, that is. All the walls were _taken_, amazingly enough – can't believe there are so many horny bastards here. So then I… um…'

'Oh, I remember again! You looked around you with this wild expression on your face, saw that there was a door, and you just blindly dragged the both of us to that door and the hallway – _this _hallway – behind it to smack me against an available wall in _there_,and after that was done, we… simply continued with whatever that was going on between us.'

I recognized his point of view of the story and felt my eyes widened themselves.

'E-exactly! Just like that!'

'That was a clever move of you. Out of sight of the rest of the people… very clever, my love!' Antonio admiringly said.

'I smacked you against the wall pretty hard, though.' I made a face. 'I must have hurt you. A bit. S-sorry for that.'

'Don't worry about it, Lovino. I much rather had the wall against my back than those creepy hooks of the coat rack. Besides…'

Antonio lowered his face, so that it was just a few inches away from mine.

'…I kind of _liked_ it, seeing this overheated, frustrated side of you that was all over me, doing whatever it could do to satisfy your unholy needs.'

'Y-yes?' I asked him, '…w-wasn't I… too rough with you?'

He laughed.

'Ohh, you were rough alright! You were _very_ rough! I think those hickeys won't be going away for the upcoming few days, ahaha!~ Ah, but… Lovi, sweet Lovi… you _never ever_ were too rough with me, sweetie… because…'

His eyes were the same as always as they watched me – kind, loving and beautiful… a-and fixated on _me_.

'…you're way too noble, caring and respectful for that, my love of my life.'

…

For the f-fucking umpteenth time this day, I found myself… l-lost in possible replies I could give to the Spanish man – _my _Spanish man – in return and so, I just gazed a bit at him, smiling various silly little smiles and carefully curling my fingers over his chest.

'Thank you.' I finally heard myself say after a few silent (if we'd ignore the loud noises coming from the other side of the wall) minutes.

'…to hear you saying that… thank you. I-I'm glad you think so wonderfully of me. I'm glad you… t-trust me.'

'Blindly.' Antonio confirmed the fact with a nod – and a quick peck on my lips. Or maybe even a few quick pecks.

I couldn't resist the urge to let out a few soft chuckles and half-assed groans. H-he knew I liked it when he stole little kisses like these from me. It could really leave a very big grin on my face, no matter what the circumstances were.

However, I didn't let him have his cutesy ways with me for too long, because we were still trapped in the very small, very narrow hallway…

…and we, naturally, needed to get _out_ of here and _into_ our hotel room.

…

I mean, no, I didn't really feel like having some sexy times with Antonio on the jackets, coats and what-not of the guests.

Hell no. Too weird. Too risky. Too unromantic.

…

Too _expected_, too, because if _that _thing on top on the coat rack wasn't a camera, I'd fucking eat up Antonio's suspenders.

Although I was very thankful that Hungary had organized and planned our entire wedding and even the after-wedding party, I wasn't planning to show her my thanks like _that_. Nooooo. No no no.

I'd just send her a very nice thank-you card later.

…

A big one, one that plays a very sweet and grateful tune and pops out confetti when she opens it.

Or one that pops out gay porn.

…

…

Hm.

I should search the web tomorrow.

Wait – n-no, I shouldn't search the web for porn-popping thank-you cards at _all_ tomorrow, I should be lying in bed, enjoying the warm after-sex glow and enjoying Antonio! That's the fucking normal thing to do after the wedding night! Hungary could _wait_, dammit! She'd understand!

And since she's such an understanding person, she probably wouldn't mind it if Antonio and I would leave the party a bit earlier than planned either. I was sure she wouldn't. She's just that kind and big-hearted and pure and all.

…

Then again, she's still Hungary.

So sneaking off quietly like the poor losers we were it was.

**XxX**

I opened the door a little bit and peeked through the gap to check what the current situation was in the other room.

Antonio stood behind me, still holding my hips, his own hips pressed against them.

…

Hmmm…

…

K-kind of difficult to concentrate on anything else but his hard-on when he was fucking _dry-probing _me from behind like this, but it would have to do, it was a very small hallway after all, and it was good to feel he was excited, because I'm a very, _very_ dirty man who liked having hard stuff pressing up against his ass.

I felt Antonio leaned over me – ohhh he sure _did_ lean over me – until his face was close by my ear.

'What do you see, Lovino?'

'N-not much, just a bunch of, you know.' I swallowed. 'Dancing dicks.'

He was quiet for a moment. Then he breathed out a laugh.

'Dancing dicks, hm? Interesting… see any… _noteworthy_ dicks, Lovi?'

He shamelessly pushed himself against me even more, causing me to gasp and clasp my mouth immediately after.

'…n-no, I don't see many noteworthy dicks. I… _feel_ one, though…' I stuttered when I was able to speak again.

'Really now…'

'Yeah.'

'Hmmm…'

Antonio's hands suddenly slid away from my hips, inside my pants, moving them to the front… and the Spanish man didn't seem to notice my _unbearable_ shuddering of pleasure when he very slowly fondled the restrained bulge in my boxers.

'…ah, you're right… I feel one, too… oh, it's kind of nasty… ahahaha…'

His voice was soft and sweet, but his need was hard and disgusting.

And _fuck_, I _loved_ it, loved it _so_ _much_, nhng, _god_…

'O-okay, we need to get away from here, we need to get away from here as quickly as we can, d-dammit…' I mumbled, trying to get out of his grip before I would like all of this a bit too much.

Antonio exhaled against my ear and traced his tongue over the shell of it, simply holding me a bit firmer in place as my wiggling became more and more hysterical. His hands just… kept stroking me, squeezing me, feeling me… oh god… oh god oh god oh god…

'You look like you could come any minute now, Lovi…' Antonio whispered upon hearing my panting and wheezing, '…hmmm… yeah, you could come if I wanted you to come…'

"Like _hell_!"I wanted to say, but I could only moan and whine a bit in return.

But just when I was starting to accept my fate (o-okay, maybe we _should_ give Hungary a little bit of porn anyway, maybe it _would_ be kind of exciting to have sex/come in Antonio's hands right now)…

…Antonio removed his hands and stepped away from me.

…

…

…w-what the fuck?

'Y-you're a fucking evil bastard…' I hissed at Antonio when I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing there with this damn _grin _on his face. '…y-you really are a motherfucking evil _bastard_.'

'I can live with that!~' his simple, upbeat reply was, and he kindly (kindly my _ass_) pushed me to the side a bit, looking through the small gap as well.

'Okay…' I heard him mutter, '…I don't see Hungary anywhere… but I do see a lot of dancing persons. And I hear a Jive. Looks like we should watch our toes when we try to make a dash for the other side of the room, Lovi.'

I blinked, snapping out of my horny daze for a bit.

'A-a Jive? They're doing a Jive now?'

'Yes.' Antonio nodded without looking away from the door.

'You like the Jive.' I hesitantly said. 'If you want, we could… y-you know—'

'I don't give a _shit_ about that Jive, Lovino.' Antonio cut me off, giving me a sharp, determined look that instantly made my face grew hotter, '…I just want to get us into bed already.'

'S-sounds good.' I admitted. 'Do you have a plan to cross the room or something?'

'No… we'll have to run for it, I fear…' He clacked his tongue critically.

'I-I could run.' I said.

'Shall we try running then?'

'We can always try, right?'

Antonio smiled at me, then reached out a hand towards one of my own hands and took it in his.

I wrinkled my nose a bit when I felt his hand was still… s-sticky and slick from my own pre-cum (my _own_ – gross, _ew_, so gross), but I gripped his hand anyway and breathed in and out deeply.

'You ready?' Antonio asked me.

'I'm ready.' I made a serious face. '_Bring_ it _on_.'

'Here we go then.'

And without wasting any more words, Antonio swung open the door to the crowded room and pulled me behind him as he started fucking _sprinting _through the dancing, spinning and Jiving heap of nations.

**xXx**

Although Antonio moved surprisingly fast through the room, in spite of the packed room and in spite of his own Spanishness, we still went slow enough for me to look a bit around me.

I was… I… well, I was, to be perfectly honest, too far _gone_ to be able to recognize faces anymore, with the exception of Antonio's… "faces", but… I _was _able to recognize that everybody in the room seemed to have a wonderful time.

Everyone was dancing, laughing, singing and, hell, I even saw there was a very pathetic but brave polonaise with two people in it going on somewhere in the back of the room.

I snorted out a laugh when I saw that and I wanted to pull Antonio's hand to point it out to him – calling out to him would be useless since the music was too loud – when I, all of a sudden, saw Hungary's face appear, walking right behind the polonaise without being part of it.

Oh _crap_.

The brunette was looking around her with an unsettling stern frown on her face, sometimes grabbing somebody's arm to pull its owner closer to her in order to… ask something…

Oh _shit_.

Antonio had noticed it as well and furrowed his brows a bit, before tightening his hold around my hand a little bit more and _bulldozering _right on through.

His pace had increased noticeably, being a lot faster than it was before, and it wasn't before long we could see our finish…

The door leading to the lobby leading to the elevator leading to our hotel room on the 7th floor.

YES.

There it was.

Oh god.

There it was.

The doors became bigger and bigger now. We got closer to them with every step we made. We were almost there, almost, it really didn't take much more time now anymore, we could practically _feel _the colder air of the other hallway hitting our warm, sweaty faces already…

…and then I looked behind me and saw Hungary, _plowing _through the crowd in a tempo that could break the current speedwalking-worldrecord. Her face was expressing _great_ discontentment and she was _coming_ _our_ _way_.

COMING OUR WAY.

FUCK.

SHE HAD SEEN US.

_FUCK_.

I yelped when I saw that serious face of hers and was getting less and less certain – and more and more _freaked out_ – about making it to the doors, when all of a sudden…

We were standing in the other, completely empty lobby.

…

Oh?

I stared around me confusedly, trying to catch my breath as I realized that we… that we had actually… _made it_.

'Thank _God_…' Antonio gasped, letting go of my hand and leaning it against a wall for support instead, '…w-we made it… we made it… she was close, but we _made_ _it_…'

I glanced at the once-again closed doors to the Celebration/Party/Reception (yeah, I remembered) and felt my face getting a bit _whiter _for a change, quickly clasping my arms around one of Antonio.

'…c-come on now, we're not safe yet, she might come after us anyway! Y-you really think she'd let a couple of dumb doors stand in her way?'

Antonio laughed breathlessly and shook his head reassuringly at me, gently pulling the vice-grip of my hand off his arm.

'Ah… it's okay, Lovino, she won't come after us. She promised me she wouldn't come after us if we made it to the lobby, because then she would, as she put it, "come between you and Roma's well-deserved share of hot sex after pulling off an impressive stunt like that", and she didn't want _that_ to happen.'

'When did she say _that_?' I wanted to know, relaxing my tense hands a bit.

'She happened to tell me that earlier this evening, when I asked her about it after scooping up some macaroni for both you and her.' Antonio explained. 'She had trouble using that giant scooping-spoon and so I helped her!~'

'And you asked her about how to escape the party at the same time?'

'Yup!~'

'You're a shrewd man, Antonio.'

'Not shrewd – just _very_ eager for sex, Lovino. I'm sure you would have done the same thing. Don't forget we didn't get any for two weeks!'

I shivered. 'Oh, stop talking about it – t-that icky stuff on your hand is living proof that I haven't forgot, dammit…'

Antonio beamed a suggestive smile at me.

'I like that icky stuff.'

'S-shut your trap.' I blushed.

'I like it very, very much.'

'Stop it.'

'I hope to see, smell and taste a lot more of it later on this night, sweetie.'

'You're fucking disgusting.'

'You love it.'

'You bet I do, you damn bastard.'

Antonio chuckled, leaned towards me again and kissed my cheek. I felt he folded his hands around my waist again and slowly spun me around, pushing me towards the beckoning elevator.

'I love you, Lovi…' he softly said, '…and I can hardly wait to show it to you…'

'N-neither can I…' I said, moving my hands behind the both of us to grab his ass again and squeeze them tenderly, '…oh god, neither can I, darling…'

And so we entered the elevator.


	79. Shaker

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Check it out, it's finally here: the first seriously smutty chapter in… ahaha, weeks, months!~ And like I told you earlier: there will be two… um, rounds. Well, there will be more other kinds of rounds than just two, but… um… oh, whatever, you'll see it for yourself…  
__By the way, **Mony** – I'm sorry, but I couldn't fulfill the promise I made to you. I wanted to, I really did, but then these **hands alskdskdla **started typing, and before I knew it, I found myself unable to put the scene I promised you in.  
__Hope you don't mind it too much…  
__By the way, I don't think I've ever blushed as much as when I wrote this chapter. Seriously. I could never **ever** write something like this in Dutch, because I'm a huge prude and because I'd fucking catch on **fire** and burn to a little embarrassed crisp if I went and tried putting all of this down in Dutch anyway.  
__Oh pffft. What am I saying. I still wrote the smut. Shut up, Sunny. _XDDDD  
_Hopefully, you'll all enjoy the smutfully smutty smutness, dears… _

_A/n2: Just to let you know: writing Lovi as a seme is probably the most difficult thing I've ever done. It's hard to make a character that's pretty submissive in your eyes top the character that's obviously a lot more dominant.  
__But you know what – it's important that it happens. Switching roles in bed when you're making love with someone from the same sex, I mean. It increases the mutual trust and… stuff.  
__Oh like hell I know. _XDDD _I just read that in a book about homosexuality a while ago and I thought it sounded good, really. _*shrugs*

_A/n3: Okay. Looks like there's just one chapter left now. Oh god. Just one more chapter left. Not sure if I should cry or feel relieved about it.  
__Maybe both? Yeah, that sounds like a plan._

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXXI:

_**Shaker Song  
**__**(Spyro Gyra)**_

Although…

…a-although it has been _years_ (o-okay, _okay_, maybe not exactly "years", but just a bit more than a mere year and a half) since the first time I had sex with Antonio, the _very_ _first_ time, the _very_ _very_ _very_ magical and awkward and weird and special first time…

…I now kind of felt the same way as the both of us stepped into the – by the way incredibly stylishly bronze-colored – elevator.

Yes. Just like that first time, I… wasn't sure of what to expect from the night that was going to come. I wasn't feeling too sure. I actually didn't feel that sure at _all_, really. Right now, I was feeling anxious, nervous and somewhat nauseous (should have eaten some more, dammit).

It was like there was this _huge_ shitload of… _pressure_ resting on my humble little shoulders. Pressure in the shape of the entire _world_. And I was supposed to carry all that worldly pressure around with me.

Like I was freaking _Atlas_.

…

Not sure if Atlas would feel very flattered if he'd hear me comparing "topping your sinfully hot husband in bed" with "carrying the world on your back for the rest of your miserable life", but screw that, I'm having a philosophical moment here, Atlas can take a hike.

However, I was instantly pulled out of my philosophical moment when the brownish doors (holy _shit_, even the _doors _were _awesome_) slowly closed behind me, and left both me and Antonio staring at the many buttons on the panel stuck on the wall next to the doors.

…

…

Now, I was a big fan of symbolism and pretty curls, dots, waves and hooks when it's about writing styles, but _damn_, it sure wasn't easy trying to figure out what overstyled number was supposed to be a "7".

Luckily, while I was beginning to shake out of my fucking _pants _out of pure agony and stress, Antonio was as composed and ignorant as ever and simply counted from the bottom button to button number 7, before pressing the right button (well, I _hoped_ it was the right button) with a carefree smile on his face, seemingly perfectly content with the whole situation.

Then the elevator made some pleasant _bzzzrrt_-noises and then, after a little shake, it started going up.

…

Very.

_Slowly_.

…

Maybe the elevator was moving so slowly because it was also experiencing a lot of Atlas-like problems.

…

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.

As the elevator continued its _extremely_ slow way up, I felt a little spark going up and down my spine when Antonio came standing next to me again and beamed a big, happy smile at me, accompanied by the bright blush on his cheeks.

'So!~' he said.

'S-so.' I nodded, stretching my arms for absolutely no reason at all.

'Looks like we're going up, Lovi.'

'Y-yes. It looks like it. You can tell from those little lights above the doors.'

'Ohh. So _that's_ what those lights are for. Nice!'

'Y-yeah.'

'Very convenient!'

'Right?'

'Right!~'

We exchanged some stupid, sheepish smiles and then shut up again, letting the uneasy tension roam free into the small cubicle we were trapped in for at least… well… 5 more floors.

…

_God_.

As special, romantic and matter-of-factly the atmosphere between us was right _before_ stepping inside this beautiful but _damn_ annoying elevator, as nerve-wrecking, heavy and _loaded_ it was _now_ – and I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

I didn't dare to say anything.

Antonio didn't dare to say anything.

Not even the damn elevator-music– that's right, _elevator-music_ –dared to say anything (because it was all classical and instrumental).

…

…

…s-shit, now why was I feeling so fucking _hot_?

Because… unusual tension or not, I felt... w-well, like I said: _hot_.

I casually looked down a bit. Yep – I was (still) very much erect. Yes. Very much erect indeed. Erect and obviously in the mood. Anxious and tenacious, yet erect and obviously in the mood. And so on, and so on.

And for some reason, this weird, panicky air in the elevator only made me hornier.

It… it really _was _like the very first time, I guess. Strange, scary, maybe even a little bit _terrible_, but… _god_, you _wanted it _so _**badly**_, you wanted the other so fucking _**badly**_, it didn't even matter what else was going on, just as long as you and your significant other were _together_. Then everything was going to be alright.

…

W-would Antonio feel something like this as well…?

I gathered as much of my courage as I could at that moment and carefully looked at the Spanish man next to me.

Antonio, who apparently had been staring at me this whole time, looked _right_ back at me, his dimmed eyes lightening up immediately as they met mine.

I swallowed and licked my lips expectantly.

Ohhh, he felt the same.

He felt _exactly_ the same, alright.

Antonio looked like a wild animal. His hair was messy, his still-partly-opened blouse was crumpled. I saw there were a few buttons missing here and there. He had lost one of his suspenders and he had a unreadable, intense sparkle in his deep green eyes that I hadn't seen for a very long time, the past few weeks.

I couldn't really place it, this look he was giving me. It was something that was something in-between provoking and sensual. It was something that stirred my blood and made me want to come closer to him, just to be closer to him, to touch him, to… to… I-I don't know, really…

Antonio watched me frown and struggle and finally curled the corners of his mouth into a small smile, quietly turning himself towards me and grabbing my wrists.

His sudden movement had startled me a little bit and I deepened my frown, glaring from my captured wrists to his kind face, taking in a big gulp of air in order to get myself ready to snap at him for all of a sudden taking my wrists like this, which _undoubtedly_ was a very… um, _unforgivable_ move of him…

…but Antonio never gave me the chance to do so as much as allow words to leave my mouth, and he forcefully crashed his slightly parted lips on mine, instantly slipping his tongue in my mouth.

The abrupt, merciless, _bold_ invasion of his warm, wet tongue went too fast for me to register, so I momentary stiffened, before growing limp in his arms, moaning delightedly as well as greedily as he brought my hands and arms up to his face and strategically wrapped them around his neck.

After that, everything went… out of its own, really.

Antonio didn't need to give me any more hints, because the second he let go of my arms, I _clamped_ them around his neck excitedly, with a… a _passionate_ kind of desperation that even surprised _me_.

While his mouth was busy with mine, lazily exploring it, teasing it, _plundering _it with th-that damned hot, fleshy, wet muscle of his that just couldn't leave my tongue alone, th-that just couldn't stop stroking and caressing my tongue with such tender licks and flicks… l-licks and flicks that stirred both my heart and head…

…his arms had fastened themselves around my waist again.

Firstly just to hold me, just to softly rub his thumb over the flash of skin that was showing somewhere close by my hipbone.

But I felt he quickly grew tired of constantly touching that same small naked part of me – and his hands became more daring, now taking a good, strong hold around my hips to push my aching and _oh so way too confined _s-stiffness against his own _very _present erection.

Then he started to rub me against him.

He… he just _took _me and _shamelessly_ started to rub my own groin against his, his still eager mouth swallowing all the sudden gasps and yelps the both of us were uttering now, never stopping to kiss me, and kiss me a bit deeper, and at one point even sucking on my tongue, _very _calmly, just to make my thoughts even more messed up and pointless.

I managed to pull away from that demanding mouth eventually and panted with harsh, painful puffs and breathy coughs as I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on his shoulder.

Faintly, I could hear a bright little _ping!~ _behind us.

But I didn't give a _crap _about that little _ping!~_, I-I was too occupied w-with something else, d-dammit…

'F-fucking… a-_ah_-asshole… d-don't make me choke, d-dammit…'

Antonio was breathing just as heavily as me and for a moment, he stopped moving altogether, gently pressing the side of his face against my head.

H-he was so warm...

'A-ah, sorry, Lovi… sorry…'

I gulped and tried to relax a bit. But I immediately whined and instinctively hugged him really tightly again when I felt he, once again, began rocking his hips against mine.

Very slowly at first – but he increased the tempo very quickly, almost wastefully helplessly grinding our hard, but clothed cocks together.

I held on to him as much as I could, my mouth dry, _loud_ and inelegantly opened when I realized he was actually already trying to get us off, here, in the elevator, like the dirty, kinky horndog he was.

'…t-the-f-fuck…' I croaked out awkwardly, hissing away the mean spark of pain that shot through me when he smacked me against the wall of the elevator and continued to pound onto me there, making my body tremble and shiver violently.

'…s-stop it… A-Ant-_oh_-nio… what are you d-doing—_ah_…'

Antonio didn't answer me – he just growled something I didn't catch. He _did_ look at me, though, and his feverish, green gaze was disturbingly _hot and bothered _enough for me to stop complaining and, instead, wordlessly spread my legs apart.

Judging by the admiring look on Antonio's flushed face, the Spaniard seemed to really like what he was seeing, and he suddenly let go of me, fumbling with the belt of his pants.

I hazily watched him struggling with it for a minute, before giving an acknowledging nod and doing the same thing: undoing my pants.

I was a lot faster than him, too, because while he was still tugging on his zipper, I had been lowering my pants.

_Very_ slowly.

Since that bastard liked these kind of games so much.

Antonio froze in all of his clumsy fiddling with his pants, zipper and what-not and let out a soft, frustrated moan as I hooked my thumbs into my boxers and patiently peeled them off my gross, sweaty lower body – my dick springing up proudly as soon as it saw its chance.

'O-oh, that's… _oh_.' Antonio stammered under his breath upon seeing that – and then he suddenly didn't find it difficult to drop all of his pants at all.

He went _so _damn fast, I even chuckled when he finally pinned me to the wall again, no matter how weird and gasped it must have sounded because of the expected but sudden contact between our slick cocks.

'You're a klutz…' I murmured in-between deep groans and grunts, attempting to clasp a quivering leg around his waist as he rutted against me at full force again, '…y-you're – _ah_, you're a – _ngh_ – huge klutz, y-you… hmmmnn… moron…'

Antonio's hands made sure to keep me in place as he gave me a sloppy kiss that was probably aimed for my mouth, but ended on my cheek instead – something that d-didn't make it any less stimulating for me.

'You're _hot_…' I heard him stammer against the heated skin of my face, teeth nipping it, '…my god, Lovi, you're so hot, so hot… n-no way I'm letting you out of this _tormenting_ _slow_ elevator before I've made us come at least _once_, y-you hear me?'

I screwed my eyes shut and bit my lower lip hard when I felt I wasn't going to last for much longer, my nails digging into his shoulder.

'A-ah… _ah_… I-I hear y-you…' I panted, automatically speeding up my uncoordinated squirming when he sped up his mindless thrusting, '…hmmn… m-my god, I-I hear you… you… y-you… ah… ah… _a-_!'

I had reached my climax faster than I had thought it would – I wasn't even able to finish my sentence when I came, soiling Antonio's legs and stomach, clutching his (now _definitely_ ruined) blouse between my hands until my knuckles turned white.

Antonio was a bit slower, but watching my face twist and redden as I came probably was the final straw for him… and after a few more nasty, moist snaps of his hips, he climaxed as well, grunting lowly as he did.

I shook and trembled a bit when his semen slowly trickled down my upper legs, smiling tiredly when he, almost right after, grabbed my face and showered happy, relieved kisses all over it, lingering when he kissed my mouth since he was always quick to let his quick kisses last a bit longer when kissing _that_ part of me.

Antonio and I stood there for a while, catching our breaths and slowly loosening our grips around each other. Not too much, though.

We also couldn't stop grinning really stupidly at each other again, not knowing what else to do.

Until I decided I had had my share of breathing en grinning and forced myself to say something.

'Well, that was… th-that was… something else, a-alright…'

Antonio laughed, stroking my wet, sweaty back.

'…it was nice though… I liked it…'

'Y-yeah, but… dammit, Antonio…' I muttered, weakly swatting the back of his head, '…couldn't you really wait just a _little_ bit longer? T-the damn elevator already reached our floor _before_ you started cock-cuddling with me, you queerbag…'

He looked up in surprise, blinking.

'…really?'

I nodded – and dryly pointed to the doors of the elevator behind him.

They were wide open.

And since I could vaguely remember hearing something tingling long before squirting all over Antonio, I had the faintest idea that those doors had been wide open for a long, _loooong _time already.

…

Awkward.

…

Still, it could have been _worse_, I guess. At least nobody saw us.

I sighed deeply. Then I looked at Antonio, who was observing the opened doors like he had never seen opened doors before, until I noticed he was looking at something else, and then I saw there actually was a _**motherfucking camera attached to the wall of the corridor outside.**_

…

No.

No.

No.

_Nooooo._

'You think they saw us?' Antonio asked me in a soft voice.

I stared at him.

He stared back at me.

'…what?'

…

…

I just shook my head at him, took his hand and dragged him out of the cubicle as fast as I could, telling Antonio I would fucking kill him and toss his lifeless body off the balcony if he waved at the damn camera in his half-naked glory _just one more goddamn time_.

Thankfully, that helped – and it wasn't before long we were on our way to our room again, pulling up our pants and fixing our blouses as we walked/stumbled further.

…

N-not too much, though: where we were going, there was no need for pants or blouses.

…

…

W-what?

The night was still young and my desire was still very much _present_, d-dammit…

**xXx**

Antonio and I continued walking/limping for a few minutes – damn you, long corridor of hell that had _no_ consideration for our still wobbly legs _whatsoever_ – until we both stood still in front of a big, bronze door – a big bronze door with a shiny, artsy "7" above it.

No, wait, not a 7, but – a _**7!~**_.

…

Got to love the subtle euphemism behind it.

'This must be it.' Antonio then said, placing his hand against the heavy door.

I rolled my eyes and wanted to make a snide remark – 'Of course this is it – it's the only fucking door of the entire _floor_!' – but I changed my mind and just frowned and blushed a bit instead when Antonio beamed a smile at me and pulled out a key out of his pocket (somehow, he hadn't lost it during our little adventure in the elevator).

'H-how long have you been carrying around that key?' I mumbled softly, watching his back with loving eyes as he unlocked the door.

'Hm?'

Antonio looked up from the now opened door and held up the big, antique key.

'You mean this one? Oh, I've been carrying it around since the ceremony in the church!'

I blinked.

'Seriously? But why?'

'Francis kept an eye on it for me and gave it back to me just before you and Feli entered the church!~ '

Naturally, I blinked once more.

'_What_?_Why_ did you ask _France_, one of the biggest fucking assholes I know, to keep an eye on the damn key? Why didn't you just keep your _own_ eye on it? It's big enough for it!'

Antonio stared at the big key, like it was the biggest mystery of life, right after elevator doors, but then he shrugged and easily put it back into his pocket, grinning a victorious (God knows why) smile at me.

'Well, I didn't want to hold on to it for too long after I got it from the people of the reception yesterday night, because I was afraid I was going to lose it – you know how scatterbrained I am, ahaha!~ And I also didn't want Hungary to hold on to it for the time being – she'd have hidden it away from me for her scheming plan, probably in her bra. Bra's scare me, so then I turned to Francis yesterday night, asking him what I should do. And Francis said, "_Antoine_, I'll give you a _very _special present if you allow me to watch that key for you!" So I said "Okay!~ I love presents!~ What do you want to give to me?" And then he put a big—'

'You _sure _I want to hear this?' I cut him off when hearing one of the world's most nastiest word-combinations ever (_France_ and putting something _big _– _brrrrr_).

The Spanish man pretended he didn't hear me and carried on, already opening the giant door a bit. Just an inch or… whatever, two or something.

'…as I was saying, Francis put a big _smirk_ on his face and winked at me and said something like "Honhonhonhon, you'll find out tomorrow, my tanned and tight friend!" and so I just didn't think about it anymore…'

I winced. 'He said something like that and you _didn't _think about it anymore? Do you even _know _that fuckface?'

'And this afternoon, as I was waiting for you in front of the altar,' Antonio very successfully continued ignoring my sniping remarks, '…he suddenly slipped this room's key in my right pocket and he slipped something else in my left pocket. Want to know what, Lovi?'

'A little note that said "Meet me in the old cellar tonight and have your dirty ways with me, Mr. Tightpants!".' I tried.

'No!~'

'Drugs.'

'No…'

_'Cut-off fingers.'_

'...Lovi, haven't I told you before to stop watching those shady old Italian movies?'

'Fuck you – they're cool, dammit.'

And the richly-flowing blood in those gangster-films is a lot less scary to watch when the entire movie's in black and white, but like hell I was going to tell _that_.

Meanwhile, Antonio leaned towards me a bit, folding his arms on his back in that gentlemanly way he knew I loved so much.

'W-what?' I promptly frowned, but didn't move away from him.

'He gave me lube, sweetie.'

Antonio beamed a smile that was way too pretty for him right now to smile, especially when he was looking so fucking _sexually _at me while smiling like that, so… I-I was a bit out of it, staring up at him.

'…w-wait, what did you say?'

'Francis gave me lubricant, Lovino.' He took another step forward. 'And I'm happy to tell you that it's our favorite brand, too. Isn't that nice!~'

My mouth was open right now, but there weren't any sounds coming out of it.

Oh, wait, yes there were.

'F-France knows what our favorite brand of lubricant is?'

'Yup! Ah, I guess he must have known I didn't had any with me… he's so _compassionate_!'

'You _told _him, Antonio? You actually _went_ and _told_ him our favorite kind of _lube_?'

Upon seeing my angry face, Antonio became nervous.

'O-oh, was it a secret? Are you afraid they will be storming the pharmacists for this brand now?'

'NO.'

'I didn't know it was such a rare brand…'

'ANTONIO.'

'…but it _is _a good one, since you never complain (too much) when we're using i—'

'_PLEASE_ STOP TALKING NOW.'

'Shall we go inside now?'

…

…

Antonio, who was either busy doing a fantastic job at being a huge oblivious fool or trying very hard to get a _ram_ to the head from me, or _both_, gave me an hopeful, blushing look, nodding his head to the entrance of room behind us.

'I… I kind of can't wait to be in there with you, you know?'

…

Oh.

I…

Oh.

He was saved by the bell, I guess.

O-or by the sweet, gushy comment about wanting to be with me.

…

T-the hell I know…

…

W-well.

For now, I'd just… forget this entire conversation and focus myself of stuff that was more important.

Or _persons _that were more important.

So I found myself flushing and nodding my head at Antonio, almost stately walking into the hotel room, right after him.

Things…

…t-things were starting to become interesting again.

As soon as the door shut behind us.

**xXx**

Now.

I-I wish I could give a very detailed observation about the room.

I really wish I could do that. That I could tell you… what color the carpet was, what color the curtains were, what color the bed linen was.

I also wish I could tell you about the beautiful designs of the room, about the decorations, about the little special details on the walls and about the amazing view from the big, high windows.

But I couldn't.

Because I wasn't paying even the _slightest fucking bit _attention to my damn surroundings, regardless of my inner-artist's need to look for and actually _have_ pseudo-orgasms whenever I was confronted by something artsy that was heartstrings-pullingly beautiful.

No.

Right now, only _one_ piece of beautiful, delicate art could pull this _hard_ on my heartstrings…

…a-and that piece of art was now standing with his back turned towards me, since he was busy locking the door.

'Just a sec, Lovi, I can't seem to get this stupid door shut…' I heard him mutter, followed by a few muffled cussing words – and let me tell you, _that_ was a rare scene, _mostly_ because the words were uttered by him, by _Antonio_, who hardly _ever_ cursed.

But I didn't mind… t-the cussing only added to the Spaniard's natural hotness… especially because he only cursed when he was _really_…

_Impatient_.

…

O-oh, he must have been in the mood as well, huh…

I breathed in and I breathed out again. My already dirtied pants were beginning to feel really bothersome again.

Impatient, huh?

Y-yeah, well, s-so was I, d-dammit…

So as Antonio kept on trying to lock the door, I… I-I walked over to him, to that turned, slightly bended-forward figure, and reached out two trembling hands, of which the palms were already wet from cold sweat.

Cold sweat from desire? From anxiety?

Who knows?

I-I only knew for sure that Antonio made a surprised little _hop_ when I quietly pressed them against his thin blouse, exhaling even more quietly through my nose as I started rubbing slow, impatient circles on his warm, damp back.

I ignored Antonio's stupid laughing and 'ah, you startled me!' -comment and looked at his back, right in front of me. I could actually see his tanned skin through his blouse.

_Mnm_. He already was _this _damn sweaty – his clothes simply couldn't take it anymore.

…

…w-well, he better take the last pieces off, then…

I took a deep breath and guided my exploring hands up his back, purposely taking the fabric with me as I did so, and I enclosed my fingers around his shoulders before I carefully… v-very carefully… p-peeled the blouse off him.

Antonio had won the fight with the door and the lock in the meantime and I felt his hot gaze on me when he looked over his shoulders and allowed me to slip his arms out of his blouse.

It wasn't until the following deep breath before I made myself look up at those green, curious eyes… and…

…and suddenly realized I was now holding the (by the way now completely button-less) blouse in my hands, which I didn't exactly enjoy, so I made a face and dropped it on the ground, that dirty, wet thing. _Yuk_.

Antonio visibly repressed a snort of laughter when he saw my face switch form "intense" to "ew dirty wet blouse icky get it away from me dammit" and he probably wanted to make a very Antonio-esk comment on it, but…

I was quicker than he was.

And before he could do as much as open his mouth, my hands were back on his back again, my fingers following the faint traces of his scars.

And it wasn't before long my lips followed them – softly, tenderly giving kisses to Antonio's former wounds. Maybe even flicking my tongue over them at some point, when I was beginning to feel braver.

Antonio didn't say anything – and even _if_ he had planned to do that, he just wasn't longer able to, since he only seemed to be able to hold on to the doorpost, shiver and sigh as I carried on caressing his skin with my mouth, teeth and tongue, c-caressing it as much as I could.

After a few silent, but meaningful minutes, nips, kisses and licks to his back had passed, I finally felt courageous enough to let my hands wander to his chest, pressing my body wantonly against his back.

A short, swift shudder shot through all of me when I felt Antonio shudder as well, just when I started toying with both his nipples, experimentally pinching and twisting them.

'I-I love you…' I for some reason started stammering at him, resting my chin on one of his shoulders and giving another careful bite somewhere near his throat, '…g-god, I-I love you so much, A-Antonio…'

I pinched again – and he groaned approvingly, rolling his head back, arching his body.

'Ah… I love you too, Lovino…'

'C-come on, then… come on… the bed… I-I don't w-want to… n-not like _this_, d-dammit…'

I let go of him – except for one of my hands, which was quick to continue its trip over Antonio's body, to one of his hands.

Though _this_ time, _Antonio_ was the one who was faster – and within the blink of an eye, I found myself being dragged by the hand to the bed in the middle of the room.

I was… well, kind of flabbergasted when I saw him taking huge steps through the big room in his hurry to get us to the bed. _Damn_. Never knew I would ever say this, but he kind of looked like fucking _Goofy_ when he's in a hurry to get somewhere. Legs _all_ over the place.

'What's so funny?' Antonio suddenly asked me – and when I stopped muffling my sheepish giggles by clasping a hand over my mouth, I noticed Antonio had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, watching me with a sexily-curved-upwards eyebrow.

'Nothing, nothing…' I said and straightened my face.

Antonio kept looking at me as he impatiently grabbed my hips and made me sit on his lap – one of my legs dangling on each side.

'Nothing?' he asked huskily, pulling my chest against his.

'N-nothing.' I confirmed firmly, placing my hands on his shoulders again – and trying to find a slightly more comfortable way to straddle him, b-but that wasn't easy with two hard things in between us, getting in the way the entire time.

'…y-you're just funny, that's all…'

'Ah, well, thank you, my love…'

Antonio smiled and gently pushed me away from him a bit. I tilted my head and wanted to ask him why, but that wasn't needed: less than a split-second later, his hands were calmly undoing all of the buttons of my own blouse.

His forehead was pressed against mine when he did so and our eyes were both focused on the smoothly moving hands, lowering themselves down my torso more and more. I felt he also sneakily rocked his hips again sometimes, making both of our needy cocks brush the other every once in a while – b-but not all the time, and certainly as much as I wanted to have that wonderful piece of fucking penis against me, no matter how, no matter what, god, I just _wanted_ it…

And that gave me a rather interesting idea.

When Antonio almost reached the bottom of my blouse, I managed to get eye contact with him and nervously licked my lips.

'H-hey, Antonio?'

His green eyes locked with mine.

'…yeah?'

'I…u-um, I…'

I licked my lips again – can't _believe _my mouth was actually _watering _from the sheer thought – and gulped once before I continued my sentence.

'…I-I want to suck you off.'

Antonio's eyes grew.

'…a-ah, really?'

I nodded in all earnest- and honesty.

'Really. I want to suck you off so badly, it's embarrassing.'

I saw the Spanish man blushed and even swallowed a lump. My face was hot as well and I understood _exactly_ why. I had never before been _this_ straightforward about all the dark places I wanted to have his cock in, after all. Being so open about it now… yeah, that could be a bit overwhelming for him, I imagine.

But I bet he liked it.

Me being honest about what I wanted and needed.

Yeah, he liked that.

I was sure of it.

When (a very red-faced) Antonio realized I was actually _waiting_ for his answer, I also heard something of a delighted _moan_ coming from his lips. Then he gave me an obedient nod and took his hands – and my blouse, too – off me, leaning back.

'…then what are you waiting for, Lovino? It's all yours. If you want it, take it.'

'D-don't mind if I do.'

I cleared my throat, climbed off his lap – I was unable to sit on it any longer anyway – and I squatted, fidgeting with his zipper and smirking almost _endearingly_ upon noticing he had done a seriously lousy job at fixing his pants again earlier.

His belt was… well, _gone_, his pants were covered with suspicious wet, white spots, his fly was, if I may say so, _open for business _and his pants had actually already _slid_ _off_ his ass. Not much, but still more than enough for me to see some cheeky red boxers peeping from underneath the black fabric… red boxers with a nasty, uneven smudge, located at the spot where a very eager dick was waiting for me.

However, ridiculously horny or not, I still scowled somewhat at the mess. Great. It didn't look pretty at all like _this_, dammit, and so, I looked up at Antonio's lustful face, just above me.

'You really couldn't have tucked it away a bit more _nicely_, could you?' I huffed, tugging down his pants, pulling them off his legs and flinging them on the bed.

'No.' Antonio simply said.

'Lazy bastard.' I took the elastic of his boxers and pulled them down as well.

…

…I-I had to gulp down lots and _lots _of saliva that was spontaneously forming in my mouth when Antonio's completely erect boner instantly _snapped_ upwards, the head of it already glistering-wet.

Oh.

Mnnm.

_Nice_.

…

Okay then.

Not wanting to wait even a fucking _second_ longer, I immediately lowered myself until I was sitting on the carpet, on my knees. Then I resolutely spread Antonio's legs wide open, perhaps a bit rougher than I intended to, judging from the little gasp I heard, and _then_…

…_god_, then I just grabbed the sticky base of his cock and leaded it _straight_ into my mouth, not even _trying_ to hold back my enthusiasm as I took him in me.

I hadn't even started sucking on the throbbing cock yet or I felt Antonio's fingers tangling themselves in my hair, clinging on to the roots of it so hard, it would have hurt me pretty badly in any other situation.

But not now.

Not _now_.

Not when I could hear him moaning and gasping and repeatedly saying my name as I slowly bobbed my head and pressed my tongue against him, moving it up and down, up and down, up and down, just the way I knew he loved.

'Lo… ah… ngh… L-Lov… o-oh my _god_, y-you're so…_hah_…'

Antonio's hoarse stammering changed into incomprehensible yelping and panting when I removed my hands back to his legs, pushing them back some more as I sped up my obscene movements a little, swallowing around his cock and savoring the prominent taste of Antonio, who already was on the verge of coming in my mouth.

'O-oh… L-Lovino, Lovino, you… ngmnn… y-you're too much…'

I hummed – mockingly, contently.

Yeah.

Although Antonio was in good shape and most of the time _perfectly_ able to postpone ejaculating (which is a very horrible and creepy word) until the moment he saw _I _was close to ejaculating (_brrrrr_), he always came a _lot_ faster when I was on my knees, sucking the living daylights out of him.

Probably because he didn't had to mind me and the importance of me reaching my climax when he was getting a blowjob – he only had to mind _himself_.

And Antonio loved blowjobs just a little _too_ _much_ to really fight against that boiling feeling below the stomach when he heard me suckling on him, when he saw me flushing feverishly as I took as much of him in me as I was physically able to, when he felt I fondled and squeezed his balls just for the fucking hell of it.

That's why I already mentally prepared myself when the tugging and _pushing_ on my head became increasingly harder, just like the shaking of his lower body, just like his _voice_, which now was existing out of groans and grunts and pleads for me to take in just a little bit more of him, please, please, so good, just a little bit more.

…

…

I-I could do that.

So I crawled up, bit by bit, cringing when my ignored and very desperate erection _flipped _up in protest, and I suddenly forced and folded Antonio's weirdly crooked legs backwards even _more_, leaning against him and violently shoving my now incredibly sensitive mouth over his _entire_ cock, sucking and licking him like crazy.

That… that was _too_ _much_ for Antonio, who had flopped back on the bed because of my abrupt change of position – but he still managed to push down my head just a tad _more,_ before driving his nails into my scalp and crying out my name, or at least something that sounded a lot like my name, in ecstasy.

At that exact same moment, my mouth was richly rewarded for its hard work with a _splurt_ of something warm, wet and sticky.

…

…ngh.

N-now, I didn't really _like_ the taste and structure of semen, so I shivered in dismay. But swallowed it down nevertheless, because it was _Antonio's_, and because I happened to love all of Antonio – so I automatically _also _loved his thick, slimy semen.

…

Still took me at least a full minute to get it down my throat, though.

When all was gone, I finally and carefully let his now somewhat… droopy dick slide out of my mouth. After that, I placed my hands on the mattress and slowly pushed myself up, attempting to recollect myself – holy fuck, were my arms really shaking as much as I thought they were? – and glancing a tired and _oh so damn horny_ look at Antonio, who was also catching his breath, lying on his back.

'…m-my god… t-that was… ah… I… _god_, Lovino…'

He raised his head up a bit and beamed a faint smile at me, sluggishly wrapping both his cold, but sweaty legs around me and surprisingly _briskly_ pulling me more towards him, towards his smiling face.

'O-oof.' I puffed out when Antonio pressed my half-naked body against his own _completely_ naked one, my face and chin suddenly resting on his restlessly-moving chest – and I had to close my eyes and listen to the hard, thumping heartbeat underneath me for a second.

'Oh, Lovi…' Antonio muttered, winding his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist at the same time, peppering my face with little pecks and kisses once again, '…the things you can do with that mouth of yours… god, it's amazing, sweetie, _really_ amazing…'

'T-thank you…'

I gently placed my hands on his sides and traced them over his still somewhat tired body, giving a little kiss on his chest as well.

Antonio laughed quietly and relaxed some more, breathing in and out in a reassuring, calming way.

I opened my eyes again and watched him with hungry eyes, gulping.

Oh _fuck_.

I wanted him.

I wanted him.

I wanted him so badly.

And I wanted him _now_.

'A-Antonio.' I started, the insides of my mouth feeling both dry and wet.

He looked my way, smiling tenderly at me.

'What is it, my love?'

I drew some breath, shrugged his arms and legs off me and raised myself on my unsteadily shaking hands and knees, awkwardly hanging above Antonio's sweet body and awaiting face as I looked him straight in the eye.

'I want to make love to you, Antonio.'

Antonio didn't look away and his smile, although it was smaller now, never became less tender. He silently reached out his hands to my face, touching my burning cheeks.

'I…' I pursed my lips together helplessly, my hands on the mattress forming tight fists, '…I'm sorry, but I-I just want you _so_ _much_, Antonio…'

'Why are you apologizing?' Antonio asked me, fondly drawing little circles on my cheeks with his thumbs.

'…it… it might hurt you…' I mumbled, '…_I_ might hurt you…'

He stared at me with a very clueless expression on his reddened face, but then he grinned, poking my face playfully.

'Sweetie, may I kindly remind you that I'm _**not**_ a virgin? Not _there_, not _anywhere_?'

I sat down on his legs.

'Y-yeah, but…'

'_Lovino_.'

Antonio leaned on his arms as he now gave me a very serious and even somewhat _offended_ look.

'…I've seen more male _and _female private parts than I've seen tomatoes. I've had a _lot _more dicks up my ass than you and most other people have and I am, if you ask me, one of the most _experienced_ nations I know. Sexually, that is.'

I bit my lower lip.

'…you're **not**.'

'What?' Antonio said, blinking, not-understanding.

'You're not more experienced than me at all.' I told him. 'You've never done this kind of… _thing _with someone you actually _loved_… u-until you met me, that is. You've never really _been_ in this position... up to _now_, Antonio.'

The Spaniard frowned, but didn't correct or interrupt me.

'Y-you… you might be the only person that I'll ever have sex with…' I continued, slowly running a hand over his stomach, '…and I know you've experienced a lot of weird, stupid, dangerous and other shitty stuff in your life, but if _you_ think that I'm _lying_ when I tell you that you have just as much experience with love as I have, you should speak up and tell me.'

I gave him a critical look.

Antonio's frown grew deeper and for a short moment, I feared he was going to say that I was wrong, that he _couldn't_ look at love and sex the way I was looking at love and sex and wanted _him _looking at love and sex…

…but then a furious blush appeared on Antonio's face and he avoided my eyes, unsurely folding his arms.

'…Antonio?' I asked.

'W-why do you always need to look at this so romantically, Lovino…' he then softly said, still not-looking at me, '…w-why do you always feel this need to… t-to make my head light and woozy when you talk about this…'

'Because I love you, d-dummy.' I answered softly, looking around to see if I saw his pants lying around on the bed anywhere…

Ah – there they were.

'A-and you love me, right?' I carried on, moving away from him just a bit to grab his pants and search its pockets.

'I-I love you, yes…' I heard Antonio reply – and when I had taken the tube of lubricant out of his pants and looked his way, I saw he was finally watching me again, his eyes hazy and dark.

'T-then you know.' I decisively huffed, and crawled back to him again, stopping and sitting down on the mattress right before his legs.

'What…' Antonio's voice sounded heavy, '…what should I do, Lovino?'

Oh god.

Now I became nervous.

'I-I don't know, d-dammit…' I stammered, extremely aware of myself and that _fucking_ _lube-tube_ in my hand.

He laughed softly.

'Should I spread my legs for you, sweetie?'

'Y-yeah.' I nodded, shuddering at the seductive tone. 'D-do that, please.'

And Antonio did.

He slowly opened his legs, bended his knees and put his feet down on the bed, chuckling teasingly when he noticed my bewildered face.

'What's wrong, Lovi?'

'You're…' I started, coming closer and settling down in-between his spread legs, '…s-shit, you're almost hard again, dammit…'

'Of course I am…' Antonio sighed as he watched me unscrewing the lid of the tube, '…ah, Lovino, do you have _any_ idea how erotic it is for just a simple man like me to do these kind of things with you?'

'I-I have.' I said, clumsily squirting the transparent liquid on my hand – or hand_s_, I should say, since I was really making a mess of it.

Antonio laughed again – although it now sounded a bit more anxious.

'Lube's strange stuff, right?'

I raised my head. 'Not just strange, it's plain _creepy _stuff!'

'Hm-hm…'

'Fuck – it's dripping on the sheets!'

'Oh?'

'Damn. I-I hope they'll get it out later…'

'Never mind that, Lovino… just hurry up, my love, I'm waiting… here, I'll help you…'

'Wh-wha—'

My eyes widened as one of Antonio's hands found one of mine, grabbing its wrists and pulling it closer to his butt… and they widened even _more_ when he carefully selected two slick fingers and calmly pushed them inside of him.

'O-oh god.' I said.

Antonio trembled, let go of my wrist and let out a soft moan.

'_Ah_, Lovi…'

I didn't moan – I just stared at my two fingers, or what was left of them to see since they were inside Antonio now, and blanked out for a minute.

I mean, come on, I-I had my damn fingers up his ass, d-dammit… I-I could even feel him tightening and loosening around me… i-it was strange as _fuck_.

But when Antonio began to grunt and when I saw that hand of his coming towards my own again, I was suddenly feeling too proud to let him help me like this, like I was some damn beginner, so I…

…I pushed his hand away, hooked one of his legs over my shoulder and slid my fingers further into him, twisting and curling them.

Antonio yelped from the shock of being impaled even _more_ by my fingers like this.

'_Ah_! O-oh… mnnnm, yeah, just like that, Lovi…'

He moved with me when I rubbed his insides, tried spreading my fingers and eventually even added a third finger, licking my dry lips and clasping his leg.

I had no idea how long I should be doing this. I had absolutely no fucking idea.

But I knew that it sure didn't take me long to have Antonio squirming and whining for more again, his body glimmering with a thin layer of sweat, his eyes half-lidded and begging.

Almost as if I had actually done this before many, _many_ times already, I all of a sudden pulled out my fingers, dropped my pants, gripped Antonio's hips and positioned my cock, before I slowly entered his moist entrance, gasping and shaking over my entire body as I felt his hotness _clamping_ _down_ on me.

'O-oh god… oh _god_…' I hoarsely said, my heart pounding in my chest _madly _as I paused and tried to get used to the weird, but _far_ from unpleasant feeling.

I wiped my forehead and sighed softly, before looking down at Antonio, hopefully with a very loving look on my face…

…and my already very busy heart skipped a beat when I saw _his_ face.

H-he looked like he was in pain and even some sort of _panic_, furrowing his brows, gritting his teeth and clawing his nails at the sheets underneath him. There weren't coming approving moans or blissful whines coming out of his mouth – just some low, choked grunts and sobs.

_Sobs_.

He shouldn't sob.

'A-Antonio, Antonio…' I stuttered, moving myself over his trashing body and carefully lowering myself on top of him, '…i-it's okay, darling, it's okay…'

'T-this feeling…' Antonio croaked out, his eyes squeezed shut, '…god, this _feeling_…'

'I-I know.'

I inhaled deeply and clasped our hands together, placing them next to both sides of his face, intertwining our fingers.

I didn't dare to move inside of him yet – not when he was this tense.

'I-I know it hurts, A-Antonio… I-I know all about it…' I mumbled softly, shyly kissing his lips in an attempt to soothe him.

'H-hurts?'

He let out a short laugh and opened his watery eyes a bit, smiling reassuringly at me.

'…ah… I wasn't talking about… the pain, Lovino…'

He kissed me back – and I gasped when his legs sharply pulled my body forwards, burying me even deeper into him.

'I've never… I've never had this feeling…' he breathed out, squeezing my hands, '…not like _this_…'

'R-really…?' I muttered, feeling relieved and encouraged, '…s-so… s-so can I… can I…'

'You can… oh _god, _you _can_… you can do whatever you wa—'

I cut him off with a kiss, deep and passionate, as I started moving in and out of him.

Carefully and exploring at first, because I wanted to hear if I was… d-doing it right.

And judging from Antonio's increasingly more delighted, more _perverted_ cries of pleasure and need, I… I was doing a pretty darn good job at… a-at fucking him, dammit…

Soon enough, my thrusts got harder, rougher, more uncoordinated. I was groaning loudly and pressed my face against Antonio's hot chest, trying to tilt up his hip joints with my _own _since… since I was aiming for something, something deep within Antonio, something that needed to be pounded_ mercilessly _in order to make the one I love feel even better…

'Ah… hah… ah, ah… oh m-my god… _ngk_!'

Antonio temporary lost his ability to speak and his eyes snapped open, head rolling back.

_Aha_.

T-there it was, there it was…

I nodded, for no explainable reason, and instantly drove my cock into that sensitive spot inside of him over and over again, being just as loud and shameless as Antonio in my panting, wheezing, growling and completely incomprehensible gasping of words filled with love and admiration.

G-god, he felt good…

H-he felt so good…

He felt… s-so fucking _good_…

He felt _too good too good so damn good oh my god my god god god god-! _

I clenched my molars together and let out a raw, bordering on _aggressive_ moan as I felt myself releasing, shooting my seed deep within the wonderful man underneath me.

Meanwhile, Antonio hadn't come yet and he grinded himself against me, called out my name over and over again, until I gave a few quick jerks on his weeping cock, making him reach his limit as well.

Loudly.

Loudly and _lovely_.

…

And then…

And then… except for our exhausted breathing and gasping…

…everything was suddenly quiet again.

**xXx**

My head was spinning, my way of in- and exhaling worn out and my body _spazzing_, like I had just ran a fucking _marathon_.

M-my god…

I had just enough power left inside of me to gently pull myself out of Antonio's entrance, before I just… let myself fall down on him again, nuzzling his hysterically-fluttering heartbeat and kissing his warm, slippery skin.

Antonio let me – and stroke a quivering hand up and down my back. He was still recovering from our former activities and, for the moment, he was content if he could just hold and cuddle me.

I liked that as well and sighed blissfully, leaning my chin on his chest again and awkwardly wrapping my (painfully cramped-up) arms around him.

And for a minute or, well, at least _ten_, we just laid there. Resting, recovering – and sending bashful little smiles to one another.

Until Antonio was the first to clear his throat.

'You are amazing, Lovino.'

He ran a hand through my incredibly messy hair and beamed another smile at me.

'You… you really are amazing. You… you made me feel… ah, I-I don't know _what _it was you made me feel, but… I've never felt it like _this _before…'

I stared back at him with a new, fresh blush on my face.

'I-I know what it was.'

'Do you?' Antonio blinked.

I nodded and mentally _cringed _when I realized I was, in fact, _really_ going to say this.

'…i-it was m-my l-love for you, A-Antonio…'

OH, the HUMANITY!

I _instantly_ pressed my face flat against his chest again, not wanting to see how Antonio would react on that.

I still _felt _and_ heard_ how he responded, though, because he immediately hugged me tighter.

'God, I _love_ you, Lovi, I _love_ you, I _love_ you so much, _ah_, how much I love you, sweetie, it's not even _funny_ how much I love you!~'

'I-I love you too.' I murmured, hugging him back.

'You're so sweet. You're so kind and romantic and amazing, my love…'

Antonio pressed down a few kisses on my forehead, tightening his arms around me in the most wonderful way.

As he did so, I involuntarily let out a soft gasp when his knee brushed my not-very-unwilling cock – b-but I nevertheless still made sure it was hard and hot enough for Antonio to notice.

And he _did_ notice.

His overjoyed hugging and wiggling stilled and when I timidly raised my face, Antonio was giving me a curious, questioning look that I knew very, very well.

I quietly stared back at him, my cheeks burning hot.

A couple of seconds passed like this, neither one of us moving or saying anything.

But then Antonio slowly, gently flipped the both of us over, making me land on my back on the mattress, with him on top of me.

I smiled at him and he lovingly smiled back. His face suddenly got very close to mine and I could only close my eyes and comply when he pressed our lips together and kissed me – softly, but firmly as well, lazily twirling his tongue around mine.

His hands travelled down my body and pushed my legs open easily. I moaned a bit in the kiss when I felt him vaguely teasing my hole, before he pushed himself inside of me.

He went a lot faster than I had thought.

But that was okay.

I had been ready for him.

I had been _more_ than ready for him.

'A-_ah_.' I said with a sigh, feeling _whole_ again that he was finally, _finally _inside of me, something I had been secretly hoping for this entire night.

'I love you…' Antonio whispered, guiding his hands behind my back and up to my shoulders, holding on to them as he made sweet, slow love to me, '…I love you, Lovi… ah, you're so warm…'

'L-love… _hah_… love you too…' I replied with a small smile, bending my legs and clasping my hands behind his head together, kissing him, kissing him, kissing him and gasping how nice he felt, how wonderfully amazing he, _too_, felt.

'W-whether I'm inside of you… or you're inside of _me_…' I managed to say when his green, admiring eyes stared into my own almost closed eyes, '…y-you always feel good, Antonio… oh, Antonio… _Antonio_…'

'L-Lovi…'

Antonio's breath hitched a bit and I felt something wet dripping on my face. I wanted to open my eyes some more to see what it was, but then Antonio kissed me again – a kiss that was probably the sweetest kiss we had exchanged all night.

'…m-my sweet, amazing Lovi…' he breathed against my opened lips, slipping in and out of me in a calm but steady, promising pace, '…p-please let me love you like this for the rest of the night…'

'Ah… hah… o-okay… okay… oh, _okay_…' I nodded, enjoying him, _all _of him, to my heart's content. With _every_ needy little fiber inside of me.

Right before I felt I was mere seconds away from coming, for the _third _damn time already this night, I found myself thinking that I didn't know for sure if he had meant "let me love you for the rest of the night" as in "let us continue fucking our brains out for the rest of the night" or as in something else, _probably_ something else, like "let us hold each other for the rest of the night after this round and fall asleep nice and quietly", but I just didn't know for sure…

…b-but I did know for sure that I felt extraordinary _happy_.

Proud of myself? Sure.

Proud of Antonio? Oh yes.

But _happy_?

More than anything else.

_Anything_.


	80. Ending

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: Well… this is it, I suppose.  
__The last chapter. The very, very last chapter of this… this universe-sized fic about Lovino and Antonio and the weird adventures they had over the past weeks. __Well, weeks for **them** – the fic lasted ALMOST TWO YEARS OH GOD for us non-fiction people.  
_"_I can't believe you wrote a fucking long story for such a long time __**and didn't even made people pay for it to read! **__You just flushed two years of free hard work down the drain!" my dad would say if I told him about my activities for the past (almost) two years, so I'll just shut up about it and hope my mother won't spill the beans. He'd send me straight to the publishing company again and probably cuss them out for not-worshipping the ground I walk on, because that's my father for you. _XDDDD

_Anyways…_

_I really can't believe the impact this fic seemed to have made in the fandom. I really, really can't believe it. Even now, it's still very unreal to me.  
__Like many other aspirant-writers, I have been dreaming about writing a story that tons of people would talk about for **years**, but I always told myself that such a thing wouldn't happen to me. That you really had to be an extraordinary writer with extraordinary talents to be able to write a story like that. That there was no way a twenty-something girl that didn't even has English as her native language could **ever **write something that people would bother to read and like.  
__But… w-well, you guys sure proved __**me **__wrong!_^^  
_Week after week, you showered me in kindness – some of you did from the very beginning from this fic, others showed up later on and smashed the love into my face just as persistently. _XDDDD  
_I've met so many great people thanks to this fic. I've started to get a bit more confident about my own qualities as a writer and I've read so, so, **so many **amazing, sweet, wonderful, kind and motivating reviews that my mouth automatically curls up into a smile when I think about it, no matter how bad I might feel myself at that moment.  
__Thank you all so much for that. Thank you so, so much. You've meant so much to me – all of you:_

_The critics.  
__The sweethearts.  
__The anonymous.  
__The bloggers.  
__The old familiars from "This Dance".  
__The new familiars.  
__The friends.  
__The silly people.  
__The single-timers.  
__The load of peeps older than eighteen.  
__The **shitload** of peeps **younger** than eighteen (tsssk to you, you should be reading about how to score your first kiss and not about nations getting it on, you lovely horn-dogs, or am I just old fashioned)._

_I thank you all, from the bottom of my rambling heart._

_Thanks for reading __**me**__._^^

_A/n2: Okay. Kind of ruining the dramatic mood now, but maybe the title name needs some explaining:  
__I know – "ending" probably isn't the best butt-synonym ever. Hell, even "opening" would probably make a lot more sense than "ending".  
__But this __**is **__the last chapter. And I like Mika. And with my almighty powers as a rambling fanfic-writer, I made Lovi a Mika-fan as well. Plus, very unexpectedly (ppffrt _XD_), this fic has a "happy ending". Ohh!~  
__Also, it's a fitting song. Go listen to it if you want to, it's nice!  
__So yeah, to summarize it all: this is pretty much the best chapter title I could ever wish for (except for the fact that opening still makes more sense but lalalalalala~) as a last chapter-name.  
__At least, I like to think so._

_A/n3: Huge A/n's are HUGE, but whatever.  
__Some of you asked me when I'm going to come back and make another fic. The answer is… I indeed have a sequel in mind, but I don't know when I'm going to write it.  
__But I **do** know that I really need a long break now, so **please** don't expect too much from me for the next couple of months, since I'll be busy crying over school and shit.  
__But when I'm coming back – you'll notice.  
__I have a really weird nickname, after all.  
__Bye for now, dears…_

_~ Sunny _

**** Bottoms-Up! ** **

Chapter LXXX:

_**Happy Ending  
**__**(Mika)**_

While I was sleeping, I had this really, _seriously _fucked-up…

…dream.

Okay.

So in this dream, Antonio and I were at his… _**our**_ House in Spain, preparing the table for breakfast. We decided to eat at the table that was standing outside in the garden, since it was fucking amazing weather, with the sun shining down on the lovely plants and flowers, and the tomatoes were sparkling, and the bugs were… bugging, and all that other special summery crap.

It all looked so fucking perfect and romantic – no fucking wonder we grasped this wonderful opportunity to eat outside with both our hands.

We didn't have a lot of time to enjoy our sunbathing garden, though: we were busy doing all kinds of things, like putting fresh, washed tomatoes on the table, and some milk, marmalade, cheese, a basket of bread… Oh, and since it comes in handy to actually have something to put your bread on and pour your milk in, we also put down plates, not-sharp knives (for the butter, I presumed) and cups.

_Lots_ of them.

…

Huh.

That surprised me. Why would we be needing so many kitchen-stuff?

I stopped with… whatever the hell I was doing for a moment, and stared at the neatly-prepared table – my head _slightly_ cocked and the frown on my forehead deep, cranky and critical as always.

I was _originally_ expecting to see… well, the usual things on the table.

You know. Two plates, cups and knives.

Me and Antonio.

One, two.

Right?

But, as I already had seen, there… there were a _lot_ more of those things present on the table.

There were _five_ plates.

_Five_ cups.

And _five_ knives.

Not two.

_Five_.

Five pieces of _everything_.

…

That was weird.

I looked away from the table when I heard Antonio's quick walking over the wooden terrace and I was positively _fascinated _as I watched him run around and put other kinds of stuff on the table.

Hm. He seemed to be in quite a rush.

…

He was still _Antonio_, right?

Why the flying _fuck_ was _Antonio_ in quite a goddamn _rush_?

Fortunately, right after putting down some tasty-looking meat products and a new pack of butter on the table, Antonio seemed to pause his hastening around the terrace. He sighed deeply, bringing his hand up to his forehead to wipe off the sweat with the back of it. He must have, _somehow_, sensed I was observing him, because he suddenly turned towards me and gave me a tired, but big and joyful smile.

'Ah, what's the matter, Lovi? You look kind of dazed… See something you like? Is it me? It's me, right?~ Oh! You _like_ me!~ Don't try to deny it, sweetie!~'

He chuckled, walked over to me and hugged me to his chest – his chest, that had a very frilly and smudgy apron covering it.

'Antonio…' I started, looking up at him questioningly and resting my hands on his hips, '…h-hey, what's going on here?'

Antonio looked back at me, a bit worried.

'You look a bit hot, Lovino. Is there something the matter? You're not getting sick, are you?'

'N-no, I'm not.' I said, but Antonio already pressed his own forehead against mine.

He was smiling again when he pulled back, tilted up my face and gently pecked me on the cheek.

'Ah, well, that's a relief – it's just your blushing I'm feeling, ahahaha… so you don't feel like you have a fever. That's good. It would be awful if we couldn't all enjoy this breakfast to the fullest, right?~'

'Right…' I vaguely responded, having _no _idea what the hell he was yapping about.

Antonio wrapped his arms around my neck and moved his face closer to mine, smiling hopefully at me.

'How about a kiss, Lovi?~ Now we're still able to kiss without being…' he chuckled, '…_booed_ out by our lovely audience, ahahaha…'

Booed out? _Audience_?

'W-what do you mean, "booed out"? By _what_ "audience"?' I stammered, backing off, '…a-are you saying that all those people at our wedding were secretly fucking _homophobes _who now want their revenge for witnessing two gay couples getting married? Did they stalk us to Spain? Are they _here_ now? Also, are you giving them fucking _**breakfast**_?'

Antonio's big eyes became a bit bigger and he stared at me, baffled.

Then his face _sproiing_-ed back in a very upbeat Antonio-expression again and he gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

'Ah, I'd _love_ to talk about our amazing wedding day with you for hours and hours, sweetie, but the milk is getting sour if it stands into the sunlight too long. We better start eating fast. Let's continue this conversation tonight, okay?'

'Wha—'

'I'll go get the kids.'

'Y-you _**what**_?'

But he didn't hear me and let go of me, giving me a teasing little _smack _to the butt (_ouch!_) and humming contently when he walked inside the House again, swinging a random towel over his shoulders. Because that obviously was the most normal thing to do after violating your husband's sacred buns.

'H-h-hey, come back here!' I snarled, my voice trembling in panic as I rubbed my ass,

'…w-what are you talking about! What's with the plates and cups! And… and what was that you said about… ki-_kids_, d-dammit!'

Antonio didn't answer me, so I sprinted… no, _stumbled _after him, right through the kitchen and dining room, and I practically _crashed_ into him when I entered the big hallway – the one with the stairs leading up to the next floor.

'Oh!'

Antonio glanced over his shoulder at me and laughed at my flushed face.

'Ah! I guess you also wanted to come and watch this, huh? You must be just as excited as I am!~'

'W-watch _what_! Excited about _what_!' I blabbered, out of breath, and was too bewildered to struggle when he slowly pushed me in front of him and wound his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss in the nape of my neck.

'You forgot about it already? Ah, that's okay. You'll see, you'll see…'

I glared at him – or attempted to glare at him – and was about to stab an angry, well-deserved elbow into his ribs, when…

…

…w-when all of a sudden, three little… _persons _appeared above the stairs.

Two boys.

With disturbingly-familiar _hazel_ eyes.

And a girl.

With disturbingly-familiar _green_ eyes.

…

…

What the _fuck_?

As I stared at the children in complete and utter _shock_, the three toddlers noticed us. The two boys, who looked _oh my fucking god __**exactly **_like Antonio, waved and yelled "_Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_ daddies!~" at us, while the little girl just scowled and looked the other way as she started to descent the stairs.

One step at a time, carefully, slowly.

The boys followed her soon after.

Behind me, Antonio chuckled again and softly squeezed my waist.

'Isn't it amazing?' he whispered, kissing the shell of my ear, '…it's the first time Alejo, Matteo and Luisa try to get down the stairs without our help…'

Alejo? Matteo? Luisa?

'It's… it's _all_ kind of things, alright.' I croaked out – but surprisingly enough calmed down when I reminded myself of the very clear fact that this, _probably_, was all just part of a dream of mine.

Or else Antonio surely had put on more clothes than just his fucking apron.

…

Especially in front of his… o-of _our _kids.

…

I mean, sure, I could _morph_ in full-denial mode and refuse to believe that those three little figures were representing my and Antonio's offspring, but that would just be a waste of dream-time. They were fucking _oozing _our DNA. They fucking rubbed our DNA in my _face_.

No, it'd be a lot easier and quicker to just admit that the kids were… ours.

…

God.

Upon realizing all of this, I breathed in and out slowly, leaned back into dream-version-Antonio's embrace and relaxed a bit.

'K-kids, huh…' I mumbled, watching the little children struggling their way down the stairs and listening to dream-version-Antonio's encouraging cheers,

'…I-I never knew I wanted to have some of those…'

**xXx**

I didn't know how long the dream lasted, but when I eventually saw the entire touching family portray of me, Antonio and the three kids getting blurry, I slowly opened my eyes…

…and was greeted my Antonio's happy, green ones, which were half lidded, but very, _very_ bright.

Just like the room.

O-only _brighter_.

'…ah, good-morning, Lovino…'

Antonio, who was lying very close to me, also on his side, smiled a lazy, sleepy smile at me and softly pressed the back of his hand against my face, moving it up and down over my warm skin with care.

I instantly forgot all about my dream. I just… quietly looked back at him, feeling my face flush and my mouth form itself into a small, genuine smile.

'Good-morning, Antonio…'

Without giving it a second thought, I pulled my own hand from underneath the comfortable bed sheets and clasped Antonio's, lacing his fingers together with mine and blushing just a tad deeper upon hearing that sweet, silvery little _click _between our connected hands again.

Antonio heard it as well – and he, too, had to grin and blush, scooting himself closer to me.

'Hey, Lovi…' he said to me in a warm voice, continuing the caressing of my cheek, '…did my amazing husband sleep okay?~'

'H-he slept fine, yes…' I nodded, as good as I _could_ nod in this lying position, and squeezed his hand.

'That's good to hear…' Antonio squeezed back tenderly, his hand intimately intertwined with my own.

'Did…'

I now blushed _so_ ferociously, I swore I felt tiny puffs of _steam _coming out of my _glowing in the dark_-red ears.

'…d-did _my _husband sleep well, too, Antonio…?'

Oh _**god**_.

Antonio chuckled, of course, positively _charmed_ to the fucking _bone_.

'A-ah, yes, your husband also slept wonderfully, Lovi!~ Wonderfully, just wonderfully…'

'Y-yeah?'

'Yes, my love.'

'O-okay.'

For a few seconds, we both remained silent.

'So how's your butt?' I then suddenly _blurted _out, and immediately regretted it, _smacking_ my hands in front of my face and wanting to hide myself under the sheets for asking him such a _oh my god so fucking STUPID_ question.

But Antonio laughed delightedly, grasped my hands and gently removed them from my face, after which he was quick to wrap his arms around my torso and pull me flush against him, our foreheads bumping.

'What kind of question is _that_, Lovino…' he murmured to me, splaying his hands on my back and cuddling me affectionately, _blissfully_, all without looking away from my eyes.

I tried shrugging, but I _couldn't_ shrug, not like _this_, so I just ended up making weird popping moves and noises with my shoulders and joints and hastily _threw_ my arms around his neck and stole a few chaste kisses from his lips, before Antonio could ask me questions about what the hell I was doing.

It turned out to be a very good move of me, because for a very short time, as I was kissing him, Antonio's hold on me tightened just a little bit more.

'I-I'm just curious.' I then casually said, after breaking off the last kiss, and twirled some dark, curly strands of hair around my finger.

'Curious, Lovi?' Antonio smiled dreamily at me.

'Yeah.' I said. 'I'm curious about… well… a-are you in pain?'

He gave me a blank look.

I gave him a meaningful look in return.

Then he got what I was aiming for and grinned widely.

'Ohh, so you want an actual _answer_ to that cheeky question of yours, hmm?~'

'W-well, _yes_, I—'

'It _hurts_, Lovi.'

…

Oh.

M-my face became as white as a sheet at _once_ and I stared at him speechlessly, almost as if he had just told me his ass was slowly and horribly bleeding to _death_, right as we spoke.

But Antonio blinked and frowned confusedly when he saw that, sliding a hand down my back.

'Lovino, doesn't _your _butt hurt as well?'

'Huh?' I stammered, snapping out of it again when Antonio's hand carefully traced over one of my bare butt-cheeks.

O-_oh_. That didn't feel… _too_ unpleasant…

'Your butt.' Antonio suddenly looked me in the eyes. 'It must hurt as well, right?'

'Oh. Um. Y-yeah.'

Well, it _did_. Of _course_ my butt hurt. It had been a while since the last time we had sex _before_ last night happened, after all. And although he had been really slow and tender with me yesterday, my butt still felt sore as _fuck_.

Antonio smiled a bit, tapping my butt softly.

'You're very sweet and caring, Lovino, and I appreciate your concern about my and my butt's wellbeing, but… ah, sweetie, don't overdo it. Don't get all tense and freaked out when I tell you it hurts, because… you experienced this kind of feeling almost _more_ often than me, my love…'

'B-but _you're_ not used to it. Not anymore.' I huffed stubbornly, fidgeting with his hair.

'I am now. Thanks to you. And I'm very grateful for that, sweetie…'

Antonio let his hands wander up my back again, grabbed my upper arms firmly and pulled me closer. He pressed our lips together again, very soon after _deepening_ his kiss, only letting go of me when we ran out of breath.

'…y-you're a very kind, nice, _leading _man when you're on top, Lovi…' he panted under his breath, moving the palm of his hand over my wet mouth to wipe away our saliva, '…and I can't wait to share many more nights like last night with you, my love, my sweet, sweet love…'

'T-_that_ good, huh…' I stuttered, and had to smirk when I saw he, too, had saliva spread all over his lips and chin.

'_That_ good.' Antonio confirmed. 'You were better than all of my former… dominators. If that's the right word for it.'

I frowned and rubbed my thumb over his mouth, cleaning his face as well.

'…d-don't you… well…'

I took a deep breath.

'…don't you feel a bit… _weird_, if you compare me to… a-all those other people that have done this with you?'

'Dwefenitwly!' Antonio said, even though my thumb muffled him a bit.

'D-definitely?' I repeated – and snuggled my body and legs and all other body part-thingies against him, softly rubbing my nose against his own, because… w-well, because I felt like doing that, d-dammit…

Antonio sighed in bliss, rubbing back.

'…Lovi… if I had known back _then_ that sex could be… you know, _good_, no matter what kind of position you take… oh, then I'd probably wouldn't had sex with anybody until… until I had met the right person. Until I'd met the tiny miracle that's currently lying in my arms, sweetie…'

'So…' I gulped, but knew I couldn't stop _now_ anymore, '…so if… knowing what love was would've made you wait for… f-for me, then what caused you to… _not _wait for me?'

Antonio's tranquil eyes blinked.

'What do you mean, Lovi?'

'Well, what I'm trying to ask you… in a really clumsy… cumbersome manner… is… u-umm… w-why _did_ you sleep with so many persons in the past, Antonio?' I asked, now a lot more concretely.

Antonio didn't say anything right away, he just looked at me, smiled and nuzzled my nose.

'…what, you _still_ don't know, Lovi? You travelled around half-Europe and you still don't know what the reasons were of my sexual escapades…?' he finally said with a chuckle.

I pursed my lips.

'I-I know _their _versions of the stories, A-Antonio! I know France's, Prussia's, Netherlands', Austria's, Russia's, England's and Hungary's sides of the stories, but… I- never heard _your _side.'

'That's true.' Antonio moved his hands up and down my back. 'I never told you. I also never really was planning to tell you, but then you started looking up my old bedmates throughout Europe, and _then_ I thought _their_ sides of the stories were probably more than enough information about me for you, but… ah, I guess I was wrong.'

'You told me that you'd tell me when you felt better.' I reminded him.

'I _do_ feel a whole lot better…' he mused.

'Then you better start talking about _your_ sides, idiot… about _your _reasons…'

I frowned at him and pinched his nose.

'…b-because there's no fucking way I could ever know "more than enough" about you, d-dammit.'

After hearing that, Antonio flushed and was quiet for a second.

But soon enough, he complied and gave me a small nod.

'Okay Lovi. I'll tell you everything.'

'G-good.' I huffed nonchalantly, doing a very cool mental celebration-dance inside of my head.

'But _first_…'

Antonio sat up all of a sudden, beaming a huge grin down at me.

'Since we're both awake now anyway: how about I call room service and order some romantic breakfast for us, Lovi?~'

I stared at him, plucking the upper sides of the sheets.

'W-we can do that?'

'Certainly!~'

He laughed, _hopped_ out of bed – surprisingly easily for a dude who had a lot of sex just the other night – and walked over to the posh, old-fashioned phone, standing on a low cabinet a few meters away from the bed.

…

Hm. I didn't get that at first – now _why_ didn't they just… put that phone on the little bed stand, so that nobody had to leave the bed per se? – but when I saw Antonio's smooth, tanned and _oh so very naked _body stroll through the room, like the dimwitted, handsome moron was taking a simple little walk around the park, moving his nice legs, firm muscles and subtle butt-cheeks _unashamedly_ as he did so…

…

…I abruptly found myself _loving_ the interior-designer.

That bastard. Bet he was as gay as Feliciano in a motherfucking _carrousel_.

On a white horse – nooo, on a flock of _swans_.

YES. Swans.

Homosexual swans.

With green, white and red and _**pink**_ _ribbons _tied around their necks, just to stress their gayness.

…

Yeah.

Anyway…

As I sheepishly continued pleasuring my eyes by letting them go over Antonio's body over and over again (oh, so _beautiful_, so _lovely_, so _bitable_), the Spaniard dialed a number and leaned an arm to the wall as he waited.

And _fuck_, I swore my heart skipped a beat when, after a few seconds of silence, Antonio suddenly began to talk rapid Spanish in a very flowing, cheerful tone.

Oh. Oh.

Instantly, I also sat up, cheeks burning and mouth bended in a very silly kind of smile.

T-that sounded…

O-oh.

I-I _really_ liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Spanish…

'Lovi?'

Antonio looked around, giving me a questioning glance.

'Yes?' I stammered, tensing on the spot.

'The nice lady asks what we want to eat. What would you like to have for breakfast?'

'You!' I automatically blurted out, a bit too eagerly. A bit too _playfully_, too.

My face had now _officially_ reached its embarrassed-redness-limit when I realized what I had said and I clamped my hands in front of my mouth – for the _second _time already today.

C-crap, crap…

Antonio grinned at me and said something to the lady on the other side of the phone. Then he looked up again.

'She asks if you want me on a cracker or on a piece of bread. She recommends the bread!~'

I snorted – I just _had_ to – and removed my hands, stupidly grinning back at him.

'T-tell her I'll just have you like this.'

'You sure?' Antonio's eyes glinted teasingly. 'You don't want me a bit more salty, a bit more buttery?'

'N-no.'

I blushed and sat back, smiling shyly at him.

'I-I'll have you like _this_. That… that already is… p-perfection…'

Needless to say, Antonio's cuteness senses started tingling in the _worst_ kind of way and he shot such a blushy, overjoyed smile at me that I could feel it _tear right through me_. Barely killed me with it, barely fucking _killed _me with it.

Then he quickly turned his head away from me, rambled some more to the lady in charge of the breakfast/room service thingies, and hung up, _immediately _sprinting back to the bed at full speed.

_Full _fucking_ speed!_

My jaw dropped and I backed off some more, because _holy_ _**shit**_, looked like he was going to fucking _pounce _me!

But…

…but that wasn't the case, as the Spaniard stopped and stood completely still _right_ next to the bed, to _my_ side of the bed, I mean, and he leaned down his arms on the mattress, his body casting a faint shadow over my lying and awkwardly-twiddling-the-sheets-between-my-hands-figure.

I looked up and nodded at him.

'W-well. Um. H-hi.'

Goddammit. I felt my forehead furrowed a bit.

I always ended up saying "hi" to him when I hadn't had a damn clue what else I could possibly say to him (mostly because I was too flustered or choked-up right then), even… no, _especially_ at times like these, when I really, _really_ wanted to say something… good, cool or original, or just very _Lovino_-_ish_ to him (and for the stupid people: _Lovino_-_ish_ is pretty much is all _three_ of these awesome things, only put together and tossed in a very big… _mixing_ _bowl_).

…

Yeah.

I still only heard myself saying "hi", though.

…

Fucking frustrating.

L-luckily, Antonio didn't give a tiny rat's ass about me being good, cool, original or whatever, because he grinned happily at me, leaning forwards to me until his face was hovering just above mine.

'Hi, sweetie…'

'Y-yeah, hi.' I softly said again, blinking my eyes and tugging on the sheets.

Antonio smiled at me and brushed some annoying strands of hair out of my face.

'Ah, I ordered some… freshly baked bread buns – an entire _basket_, Lovi! – and a pack of butter, some nice gingerbread, a couple of soft-boiled eggs, orange juice, tomato juice… oh, who am I kidding – I just ordered the entire breakfast menu, Lovi.'

'That's…!' I started, but was interrupted when Antonio gave me a warm kiss, his fingers slowly tracing over my cheek and chin.

'…t-that's _way_ too fucking much for us, d-dammit…' I mumbled, as soon as Antonio pulled back, and let go of the sheets to collect his face him my shaky, but solid-enough hands.

Antonio let out a hearty laugh and crawled, together with his naked ass, on top of me – and on top of the thin sheets separating our bodies.

'I know it's a bit too much…' he admitted once he literally was _laying_ on me, '…but since I've got a lot of stories to tell you, I better make sure we stock something extra, for when we get hungry around lunchtime again.'

I frowned at him and stared at his face. I still held it in my hands – and I firmly _squeezed_ his rosy cheeks, huffing.

'_Ouch_, Lovi…' Antonio whined, in that high, childish voice he could have sometimes.

'You,' I said, swallowing and pulling his attractive, squishy face closer to mine, '…y-you better make sure you tell me _everything_, y-you bastard. I don't care if that means we won't leave this room for the rest of the day – you _are _going to tell me _all_ about… y-your sex past. At least with those seven countries. I-it means a lot to me.'

The corners of his mouth tilted up. His eyes were soft and reassuring and his hands light and feathery over my own hands, his elbows digging shallow dips in the mattress.

'Don't worry, Lovi. I _am _going to tell you all about it.'

'I know you are. I just… I…' I pressed my lips together and deepened my frown, '…I just want you to know that I'm _serious_.'

'Hm-hm.'

Antonio's fingers fluttered around my hands.

'I'm serious as well, sweetie.'

'S-so it's a promise?'

'It's a promise.'

'Great.' I moved my head up and down again. 'Now seal it.'

Antonio looked confused. 'Seal it, Lovi?'

'Yes, like they always do in… in all the rough and tough ghetto-streets and dark alleys of Barcelona. They seal all their important promises with a nice kiss.'

Antonio stared at me, completely lost and (understandably) even slightly disturbed.

'And you know what they say,' I impatiently continued, nuzzling his face, '…w-when in Barcelona, do what the… Barcelonans do.'

'And that's… sealing promises with nice kisses?' Antonio asked.

'Yes.'

'_Rough_ and _tough_ Barcelonans do that?'

'Y-yes. All… all the freaking time. Fucking psychos.'

'Ah…'

'… w-with tongue.'

Antonio's jaw now dropped.

'They kiss with _tongue_, too?'

'Of _course_, dammit, or else it's just a _wussy_ kiss!' I very rightfully-annoyed responded, '…you have to really _mean_ it! Dammit, Antonio, there are people out there who get their sorry asses kicked, each and every day, just because they don't properly seal their promises!'

Antonio flipped his head to the side, looking like a cute, but incredibly dumb puppy.

'People _really_ do that around here?'

_Fuck_ that dim asshole. I felt my face was losing its cool – if it even really had any of it, dammit.

'…no… well… not _all_ people do that. I mean… o-only _men_ do it. Around these parts. I-Italian and… S-Spanish men.'

'Italian and Spanish men, Lovi?'

'…yes, but just… just t-two men, actually…'

'Oh?'

'…y-you and… m-mmjhskngh…'

'Oh. I-I mean… _ohhh_.'

The Spaniard _finally_ noticed the embarrassed flush and the longing glint in my eyes and nodded, snickering and settling down a bit more to peck a few quick kisses on my face.

'Silly, blabbering Lovi…' he murmured, '…ah, why beating around the bush so much, my love…'

'I-it's a hard life on the streets, d-dammit…' I bravely stammered on – and managed to steal a few short, teasing kisses from his lips, '…d-don't you know? Y-you better live by the rules of the streets, or you'll get—'

'Shut up, Lovi, you just want to kiss me.' Antonio smirked.

'Then _let_ me.'

'I _will_.'

'_Fine_.'

I glared at him and then I smashed our lips together, kissing him in pure _bliss_ while sealing our promise and satisfying my need to explore his mouth and feel him _this_ close to me.

'Love you…' Antonio somehow succeeded to breathe out in-between the enthusiastic panting and lip-sucking, '…l-love you so much, Lovi…'

I gulped down a very thick lump in my throat and gently pulled his face a bit away from mine, my hands rubbing and caressing his still very squeezable face.

'…I-I love you too, dammit.'

**xXx**

I'm not going to lie – broken butt or not, I'd have _loved_ it to go for a (…one, two, three, four…) _fifth _round with Antonio right then and there.

But that was impossible, because we both knew that room service would be knocking on our door in probably the mere blink of an eye, and it's kind of impolite to let room service wait on the hallway until Antonio and I were finished rolling over the bed naked, all shoved-into-each-other and stuff.

…

So we behaved.

Sort of.

We just rolled and shoved a _little_.

…

Anyway, the current short-comeback of the horrible No Sex Pact turned out to be a very good move, because less than ten minutes, a quick dive into our super luxurious exclusive white hotel bathrobes (they were made from heavenly silk – _hell YES_) and the epic arrival of a medium-large breakfast… trolley… cart… thing on squeaky wheels later, Antonio and I were already getting ready to stuff our faces with delicious grub – and Antonio got himself ready to begin talking.

And _fast_, too!

'Hmmm, since you firstly visited Francis, I guess I should begin with… um, _my_ side of _his_ story about the _both_ of us, right?'

Antonio, who sat in a very silly, lotus-like position next to me, looked at me questioningly as he _immediately_ pulled a big plateau with all kinds of food thrown on it closer towards us.

I yelped – I wasn't _that_ far yet, dammit, I was still hesitating between tomato or orange juice, because both tasted very good in the morning! – and gave the Spaniard an angry look, spastically loading some stuff that I'd also like to try out on the tray, now resting in the small space between him and I.

But naturally, Antonio just smiled densely at me – and looked down at the piece of bread in his hands, musing.

'Ah, well, before I get started… could you let me know what Francis gave as the main reason he topped me?'

'Um…' I frowned and twisted my mouth as I thought about it, '…well, I think he had said something about… sexual frustrations.'

'Ah?' Antonio said.

'Yeah, that's what he said.' I nodded resolutely. 'The French fuckface told me you two used to have fights all the time, but you still, _somehow_, managed to befriend each other, too. The… unhealthy, freaky-friends-with-benefits-kind of friendship, but still.'

'Ah…' Antonio said again, now with a distant smile on his face.

'He also said something about… well, that it was nothing more than _natural _that _he _was the one topping, because he was apparently more of a dominator than you. In your relation with him, that is.' I explained further, biting my lips and staring at the two full glasses of fresh juices on the dinner tray.

Tomato- or orange juice.

Tomato- or orange juice.

I liked tomatoes very much, since they were very Spanish. To me.

I liked oranges as well, since they were _also_ really Spanish to me.

…

Fuck. Now _this_ is why I never go grocery shopping all by myself, dammit.

Maybe I should go for an America juice and just slush them together…

Meanwhile, Antonio had to laugh out loud.

'Francis has said that? That he topped me because it seemed to be more natural that way?'

'Yes. You don't agree?'

'Oh, I _fully _agree.' Antonio said breezily, spreading some butter on a slice of bread. '…after all, Francis is a lot more forward about sex than most other nations I know. When he was craving for sex, _boy_, you'd _know_ it!~'

I watched him in silence for a few seconds, stirring a long spoon around in my suspicious red-orangey-juice mix.

'You _weren't_ forward about sex?' I then carefully asked, taking a sip – hmm, not bad, not bad…

'I was!' Antonio grinned at me. 'Ah, I was pretty forward about sex as well! And like Francis said, I also was pretty sexually frustrated. But that weren't the most important reasons why I slept with him, I think.'

'No?'

'Naaah… I was still a very young nation back then, Lovino, and I was very adventurous – _also _concerning _sex_. Francis turned out to have just a little more experience than me, and therefore, I automatically presumed it was nothing more than normal to let the more experienced guy take the… um, lead. So I let him.'

'Always?'

'Always.'

'…h-how was that?'

'Pretty good, actually.'

'…yeah?'

'Hm-hm.' Antonio took another bite. 'You shouldn't be surprised about that, sweetie: even though we weren't in love, he still was the Country of Love and I still was the Country of Passion. You bet we had a great chemistry together.'

I nodded, feeling strangely fascinated.

A couple of months ago, I'd have probably cussed him out with all the jealousy, insecurity and angst I had stuffed inside of me, just because he had said that he and France used to have a great chemistry, but now?

Now I was aware of the fact that he was talking about something of the past – _not_ the present.

Also, _**I**_ turned out to be the one Antonio was happy to call his lawfully-wedded husband now.

In your _fuckface_, France. Suck on _that_.

'So it was mainly an… adventurous discovery expedition for you.' I sternly concluded. 'Your sexual relationship with France.'

'Yup.' The Spanish man smiled and ate the last piece of bread.

'What about the albino-freak?' I bluntly started about Prussia, slurping my last bit of tomatorange juice – ohh, I should definitely try this more often – out of the tall glass.

'Oh, you mean Gilbert?' Antonio said, turning himself towards me a little bit more – and grabbing a cluster of white grapes at the same time.

'Yeah, _that_ guy.' I snorted. 'You know what he said about you and him?'

'Um…' He looked up to the ceiling, as he pretty much always did when he was trying to think about something (maybe he thought somebody had the answer to all of his questions scribbled on the ceiling, I don't know),

'Ah… I… _think _I have an idea what Gilbert said about me and him, yes…'

Hm.

Well, I didn't feel like patiently waiting until the tanned man would remember again (I was actually _very_ naïvely hoping we could do something romantic and nice together later today, dammit), and so I just rapidly continued.

'He told me that you two only had sex because you were bored – and that _you _were the one that suggested doing it.'

'Ah. Yes, now I remember again.'

Antonio seemed to be pleased about that very fact and popped a grape into his mouth.

'Is that true?' I asked, my voice surprisingly quiet.

'Yes.' He nodded his head again. 'Definitely.'

My face fell. '_Definitely_, even?'

Antonio gave me a small smile.

'Ah, well, you see… back then, Gilbert had a really tough time. His country and bosses were constantly… um, bugging other countries. Of course, I was happy to join him with the annoying – and I was pretty good at it, too! – but Gilbert… well… he had a difficult time. We all had, of course, but he had a _very_ difficult time. I mean… you know yourself that Prussia, the actual _country_, doesn't _exist_ anymore. _Gilbert_ does, since that man defies all logic… but his country? Not so much.'

I blinked my eyes. I had this yummy, handmade, marmalade-slathered piece of sandwich in my hands, but I didn't say anything and didn't even eat anything – I just waited for Antonio to carry on.

And he did.

'Now, I don't know for sure, but I think Gilbert must have _unknowingly_ felt that… something was slowly but surely… _changing_. In his country, in Europe… something like that. He didn't know _what _was changing, _nobody_ knew that, but… there was something tense and unspeakable hanging in the air. And that "air" made Gilbert… really silent, brooding and quiet during the moments we spend together without having to prepare ourselves for a war or fight or something. I didn't like those moments. And I didn't like to see Gilbert all… out of character like that. He was my _friend_. And I wanted him to be… smiling, grinning, shouting out how awesome he was, without realizing how incredibly _hair-ripping annoying_ he most of the time was…'

Antonio paused talking.

…

Time for a little summary concerning the Prussia-Antonio-chapter…

'…so let me put this straight…' I said, watching out that the marmalade didn't drip on the sheets (they were ruined anyway but still), '…you actually _didn't_ screw with Prussia because you were bored, but because you… wanted to make him feel better?'

The Spaniard gave me a surprised look, before he chuckled.

'Aw, Lovi, are you trying to portray me _nobler_ than I actually was?'

'No.' I shook my head. 'Not at all. But that's it, right? Prussia felt bad about himself and his country, you felt like you should cheer him up and make him forget about his worries and so, you talked him into bed and let him top the hell out of you.'

'That… that sounds pretty much like something I would have done, yes, ahahaha…' Antonio said, scratching his chin.

I scowled huffily. 'Man, you were fucking _freaky_ in former times. _Normal _friends go out to a bar and have something to drink to cheer up, but you decided that having sex was a _much_ better way to lighten Prussia's mood. I mean, what the _fuck_, Antonio?'

Antonio pouted and put away the grapes.

'H-hey, I was young! I didn't realize yet just how… _intimate_ sex was, okay? I had never been in love back then, I just wanted to make Gilbert feel better and have some fun myself as well while doing just that. Besides, I also was fooling around with lots of other nations, so… I didn't see any harm in doing it with him as well.'

'Did it… did it work?' I asked – _shuddering_.

'Hmm?'

'Did you actually manage to cheer that white-haired nutjob up with the… sex and stuff?'

'Ohhh _yes_.' Antonio got a very proud smirk on his face all of a sudden. 'Especially when I allowed him to top me all the time.'

I was just busy taking a careful bite from my sandwich – but I jolted my face up immediately when I heard that.

'B-but Prussia told me he _tricked_ you into being the bottom all the time with this cunning coin-trick!'

Antonio snorted – and gently rubbed a smudge of marmalade off my face.

'Heads, I win – tails, you lose. Right?~'

I gaped at him. '…so you just _pretended_ you were a brainless idiot?'

'Well, _yeah_.' He grinned. 'Ah, I know I'm not very sharp, but come on, Lovi: even _I_ understood that that little coin-game would always make him, Gilbert, also known as Prussia the Awesome, come out as the winner.'

'Is that so?'

'Um. Not… right _away_, of course, but I _swear_ I knew all about if after the third time I lost the game.'

'Of course you did.'

He gave me a stupid smile, but didn't react on my snide remark.

'But I was fine with being bottom. Gilbert wasn't _bad_, and he certainly got happier every time he won that game and, well, had _fun_ with me. Oh, and I amused myself just as much, by the way!~ So in the end, I had reached all my goals and that was good.'

'Yeah, okay, but… even _now_, Prussia _still_ thinks you're just a stupid moron who only thinks of sex when trying to find away to get rid of the boredom.'

'Well, that's not completely untrue.'

I frowned at him and stuffed the whole sandwich in my mouth.

'Y-yoo _kwnow_ whab I mean, dwammid!'

'I do, I do!' Antonio admitted, '…and that's perfectly fine by me. Gilbert's free to think of me how he wants to think about me – no matter if that's good or bad. He's still my friend and he still respects me on his own weird way, so it's okay, Lovino. Let him think whatever he wants to think. Let lets me do that about _him_, too.'

I munched on my food, but made sure our eyes stayed locked as I did so.

'W-will you ever tell him the real reason why you had sex with him?' I said, as soon as my mouth was empty.

He shrugged and poked one of the eggs on the tray.

'Ah, maybe? I don't know. If I would, I think _he'd_ think that I just had sex with him because I pitied him (which, in a way, is hitting the nail _right_ on the head, ahaha) and that would make him sad. So… naaah, I'm not telling him anything. Unless he asks me about it – then I'll honestly speak up my mind.'

'What a great friend you are.' I said.

'I _can_ be.' Antonio smiled.

'You're an awful enemy, though.'

I narrowed my eyes at him – and then I narrowed my eyes at the mess I had made, because _dammit_, all that one egg's insides (_yuuuuch_) was all over me and my bathrobe.

Antonio looked at me, not-understanding.

'I'm an awful enemy?'

'Damn _straight _you are!' I said, fruitlessly attempting to scratch out the yellowish of the egg out of my robe, '…I-I mean… for example, you also were the Netherlands' enemy. Right?'

'Right…'

Antonio observed my fanatic cleaning/_destroying_ of my bathrobe with concerned eyes.

'Lovi, you're only making it wors—'

'You hated that Dutch creep. Hated him!' I said, ignoring his last sentence, '…you seem to be more neutral towards him now, but _god_, I vividly remember you freaking out on me because I said I was going to the Netherlands, dammit… and it was even worse back _then_, when he and Femke still lived with us! So how could you _possibly_ have sex with… someone you hated _that _much!'

The Spanish man wrinkled his forehead and sighed deeply. He was making gestures and facial expressions that told me he wanted to answer me – but he had to stop and start chuckling again when he noticed now the egg-yellowness was now even in my fucking _hair_.

Which I didn't find funny at all, because it was gross, it was sticky and it was all over me, _dammit_.

'Fucking fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!' I hissed under my breath, looking around for something to clean me up with and glaring warningly at Antonio's shaking and giggle-repressing body.

'_Hey_! Cut that out, you bastard! Just get me a towel or something and explain your creepy _funtimes_ with the Netherlands already!'

But Antonio gasped and beamed a big and excited smile at me, all of a sudden grabbing my arms.

'Wait! I have a _better_ idea, Lovi!~'

**xXx**

A few very hasty minutes later, me and Antonio were…

Bathing.

Yes – _bathing_.

Bathing in the disappointingly small and hysterically white bathtub in the bathroom next to our hotel room, with lots of foam, hot water and expensive (and therefore) unfamiliar soap floating around us.

…

A-and there were a lot of _limbs_ in the tub, too.

'…I-I could have gone into the bath _myself_, thank you very much.' I grumbled as I tried to find a more comfortable way to sit – and squeaked a bit when Antonio, w-who sat behind me, easily wrapped his arms around my naked torso and pulled my back to his chest.

I didn't see him, but I just knew he was smiling really cheerfully.

'No, you couldn't have gone into the bath all by yourself, because you think bathing by yourself is for fags.' he casually reminded me of my own words.

I just grumbled – not very convincingly, though.

'…ah, but don't worry, sweetie, I happily join you!~' Antonio went on, his hands drawing something on my stomach, 'I'll be happy to clean ourselves while I continue talking. Okay?~'

'Whatever.' I murmured, blushing deep-red as I shyly enclosed my hands around his wrists.

'I take that as a yes. Now… what did the Netherlands tell about the sex he and I had?'

'He… he told me…' I swallowed, '…that he had sex with you to prevent you would have sex with his sister.'

'Aha.'

'He thought you were using Femke to fulfill your own needs and to find out if you were either gay or heterosexual. B-but Femke later told me that Netherlands was wrong – it was all _her_ fault. She was using _you_, because she wanted you to fall in love with her – and she thought that blackmailing you into making love with her would be the most logical thing to do, even though she already feared that you were into men.'

'Femke said that, didn't she…'

Antonio leaned his chin on my shoulder and uttered a soft groan.

'W-who…' I tried to look at him from the corner of my eyes, '…who was right, Antonio? The Netherlands or Femke?'

'Ah, it's… a bit of both, I think?' he mumbled vaguely, nuzzling my neck, '…Netherlands was right that I didn't exactly _mind_ it that much to have sex with his sister. She was, and here I go again, one of my _friends_. And since I hadn't got much trouble with having sex with my other friends – heck, then why not having that sassy Belgian beauty as one of my bedmates as well?'

'But you didn't like it.'

Antonio stayed quiet.

'_Did_ you?' I persisted.

'…no, I didn't like it…' Antonio sighed. 'Femke was… I _think_… my first woman. Having sex with her was… different. _Easier_, probably. It all went a lot… more smoothly. After all, she was a _woman_ and… well… s-she loved me.'

He got quiet again – but he was able to go further when I raised a foamy hand and awkwardly-but-nicely-meant put it on his face – smearing the white stuff all over his face.

'Anyway…' he chuckled, giving me a thankful little squeeze, '…sleeping with someone who's obviously head-over-heels with you and desperately doing her best to make you fall in love with her as well… it's… it's just _wrong_. Even back then, I felt it was wrong. I was making her _hope_. And she was making _me_ confused about what I actually wanted from a bedpartner.'

I blinked. 'You mean that you really _did_ wonder about your sexuality?'

'Yes, I did. I hadn't really focused myself on women before, but now that a wonderful and pretty woman was trying to seduce me and had sex with me multiple times… I began to wonder _what_ I actually _was_. Into men? Into women? Into _both_? Or didn't I care? I didn't know. But I _did_ know that having sex with Femke didn't make either one of us happy.'

'Or the _Netherlands_, for all that mattered…' I softly pointed out.

Antonio let out a joyless laugh.

'Or the Netherlands, indeed. Ah, he never liked me, but he downright _hated_ on me when he found out his sister and I had something that looked a lot like a very bad sexual relationship going on. He confronted me with it and got even more furious when I didn't deny it. But instead of simply beating me up, like I had done to him many times before every time I was mad at him, he made an offer at me…'

I nodded. 'He offered _himself_ to you.'

'Yes.'

Antonio let go of me, grabbed a sponge and started stroking it over my back.

Oh, that was…

That was _nice_.

I moaned a bit and closed my eyes, leaning forwards some more so he had a better access to my back.

'Netherlands offered himself to me for sex.' I heard Antonio say. 'He wanted to go in Femke's place and save her from me and my strange ways, I suppose. Feeling guilty and helpless, I… well, I _took_ his offer.'

'…d-do you regret it?' I asked.

'Yes and no. Yes as in… um, well… hatesex isn't really _pleasant_. It's painful and angry and rough and _really_ bad for your self-esteem. I'm sure he felt like dying every time I managed to top him, because I sure as _hell_ felt like dying whenever _he_ won. And in time, he grew stronger and won more and more, and oh, it was _awful_, but _god_, Lovino, I rather wanted to be pounded into by that Dutch punk than I wanted to spend one night of one-sided lovemaking with Femke.'

I didn't say anything, I waited – and poured some water on my arm, just for the heck of it.

'So I actually… didn't regret _all_ of it, because thanks to Femke's brother, I actually found out that I really _did _prefer men over women. I only wish I had discovered it in a more… normal way…'

Antonio moved the sponge over my arms now – 'Oh, look at that, I pour and he rubs,' I found myself thinking, '…that's like fucking _teamwork _in its purest form.'

Then I took a deep breath.

'O-okay, I've heard enough about you, Femke and the Netherlands. Th-thanks for sharing that with me.'

'You're welcome, my love.'

'Could you tell me something about you and Austria now?'

He nodded – I felt he did – but then he folded his hands on my shoulders, turning me around as far as was possible, which really wasn't that far at all.

'Naturally, Lovi. But only… if you switch sitting positions with me.'

I looked at his troubled face with a frown.

'…y-you okay, Antonio?'

Antonio nodded – again. His face remained somewhat sad.

'I… ah, I just want to be hold for a bit, Lovino…'

'I-_I_ can hold you!' I instantly said, and clumsily started _wrestling_ _around_ in the water in order to flip myself the other way.

I-if he wanted to be comforted, h-he sure as fuck _would get _comforted, d-dammit...

**xXx**

'…y-you sit comfortably, Antonio?'

'Ah, yes. You, Lovi?'

'Yes.'

'You _sure_?'

'Oh, you bet. I always seriously enjoy sitting in a tiny bathtub with a huge wet Spanish man between my cramped legs. That's what I _do_.'

Antonio laughed – and I was glad he did, because that meant he had cheered up a bit.

'Now, about Austria…' I very formally said while very informally hugging his sexy/handsome/tasty back, '…h-he said he had sex with you because you two were married to each other and married couples should have sex.'

'Hmmm…' Antonio hummed contently, settling down in my embrace.

'H-however, Austria also said he wanted to have sex with you because he… fell in love with you during your time together with him. But what was _your_ reason you had sex with him?'

'The same, really.' He stirred a bit. 'I wasn't in love with him, but if Austria said it was _normal_ to have sex with him because he was my husband and such… well, okay. Sure, why not?'

'You didn't mind he always topped you?' I asked, now carefully combing through his hair.

'I…' Antonio hesitated and studied my fingernails of the hand that was still clasped around him. '…I wouldn't have mind him topping me – if he had been… good. But he wasn't.'

I grinned, I couldn't help it.

'He was bad, yes?'

'_Oh_, _so_ bad, Lovi. He made sex – and I'm sorry to say it, Austria – _boring_. Not painful, not interesting, not even _nervous_… just _boring_.'

'Why didn't you ever top him then?' I smirked, '…then he would've learned how to be a flippin' _good_ topper, dammit…'

'Ah, well… thank you for the compliment, Lovino…' He pressed a kiss on my fingers, not minding the foam.

'I-I'm just stating the obvious, d-dammit…' I flushed, '…well… t-tell me, why didn't you top _him_, hm?'

'He didn't want to be the bottom. He was scared it would hurt too much. Didn't he tell you?'

'Yes, but… I figured you had another reason…'

'I didn't. He was my friend and I wanted him to feel good, and… well, that's all there is to say about it, really.'

I frowned, rubbing the side of my face against his head.

'You sure thought it was important to make your friends happy, dammit…'

'Hmm… yes. But not _always_. I really hurt Hungary by carelessly sleeping around with Austria, for example. I knew she was in love with him, but – ah, I was so oblivious, I even didn't realize love could be _that_ serious. Even though I had seen it before in the eyes of Austria and Femke – I still didn't do even as much as just _realize_ it.'

'You didn't think you were a good friend to Hungary?'

'Oh, Lovi. I… I was not a _friend_, but real _douchebag_ to her. Instead of giving her some good advice and a shoulder to cry on, I _slept_ with her – which probably was the _lowest_ thing I've ever done to another befriended personification. She didn't need that. She needed a _friend_. And I wasn't being one right then. I was being an incredible insensitive _jerk_.'

I said something that hopefully was a hum of acknowledgement. Apparently, we had silently skipped over to his side of Hungary's story.

Ah. That was good. It was good he now seemed to know what I was expecting from him.

Antonio rubbed the back of his head – well, he tried.

'Really, I… should have known _earlier_ that I hurt her by… being her first and… screwing Austria, but… I realized it too late, when I had already made her suffer. She was so mad at me… I thought she would never forgive me, but spreading that one scandalous rumor about the both of us… you know the one… _that_ did the trick and she found a way to forgive me. Somehow.'

I scowled.

'Yeah, and some nice secret it was you two had. You even told _me _you were topped by that devilish woman, dammit. And I fucking _bought_ _it_, too!'

He shook his shoulders.

'A promise is a promise, Lovi. She would've got mad me if_ I_ had told you about our secret _first_. You understand, right?'

'Yes. You respected her choice.' I huffed nevertheless. 'And see, _that's_ why I still think you _really_ must have found it the _most_ important to you to make all of your friends _happy_.'

'Ah, I… I _still_ think that's important, Lovino. Friends and such.' Antonio earnestly said. 'But ever since meeting, raising and subsequently falling in love with you, I also started to realize it's just as important, if not _more _important, to make… _me_ happy. By being with _you_, for example…'

I gulped and cuddled him tighter.

'…d-dumbass. It's okay to be selfish every now and then, you know…'

'I'm more selfish than you think.'

'A-are _not_. I'm a _lot_ more selfish.'

He clacked his tongue in disagreement.

'Lovi, Lovi. You have that ring around your finger that has tied you to me for eternity and you can _still _say that?'

'Fuck you – that ring has tied _you_ to _me_, dammit, and not the other way around!'

Antonio chuckled and traced his hands up and down over my protective and claiming arms around him.

'…ah, I guess we're _both_ selfish then…'

I stubbornly shrugged in response.

'L-loving somebody and wanting him to be happy… _never _is selfish, d-dammit…'

The Spaniard remained quiet and smiled up at me in silence.

…

Somehow, I could tell he wholeheartedly agreed with me.

**xXx**

'Ah… I'm afraid there really isn't much to tell about Russia and I.'

Antonio gave me an apologetic smile as he put on a bright red (well, at least it wasn't _pink_) long-sleeved shirt.

Yes, we actually had _more_ clothes with us, the people of the hotel had actually put our suitcases and shit into our hotel room yesterday, dammit.

Anyway, I was busy looking in the mirror and fixing my – if you really wanted to know and I know you do – blue dress shirt, but looked away from my reflection to give the slow Spaniard (what, was he _still_ not wearing any pants?) a frown. That's right, I gave him a _frown_.

'Oh? Why not, why isn't there much to tell about your time with Russia? I know he told me you were both _pissed_ when it happened, but you could also have other reasons to sex with that scary freak than just… being really, extremely drunk and unsure about… y-your growing feelings for me…'

Antonio's eyes lit up when he heard that and he smiled at me, blushing.

'H-how did you know that this one-night-stand with Russia was the result of that… that latter reason, Lovino?'

'Russia… might have dropped a hint or two.' I muttered, quickly looking back into the mirror. '…he said the both of you felt down and were dead drunk because of the same reasons… a-and since he said _he_ was, at _some_ level, realizing he was falling in love with Femke, I thought… y-you must have realized… th-the same feelings… for _me_…'

'I didn't realize I was falling in love with you quite _yet_, but…'

Antonio walked towards me and looked at me via the reflection of the still damp mirror.

'…I sure realized you meant a _lot_ more to me than I had thought, all this time…'

'C-close enough…' I mumbled – and then I furrowed my brows and spun around, taking the sides of his open shirt in my hands.

G-grown baby still couldn't decently button his clothes, dammit…

Baby. Child.

Dream.

…

Now… now why the fuck was I all of a sudden thinking about that?

Meanwhile, Antonio patiently and lovingly – always lovingly – looked down on me as I, well, _dressed _him up some more.

The relaxed, but very noticeable silence lasted a bit longer now, long enough for me to fix his shirt – and long enough for Antonio to gather his courage for the next sexpartner in line.

'Lovino.' He took a deep breath. '…when I came back from Russia, I slowly started to recognize these silly feelings called… _love _towards you. Love as in… _romantic_ love. But there was a time I got back from another nation a lot more… broken… and then, I was so lucky to experienced feelings of love towards you as well. But it was different. Platonic. Big-brotherly.'

I gave him an understanding nod and small, but encouraging smile, knowing what he was talking about.

'When I came back from him, I felt like… I wasn't… worth _anything_.'

Antonio squeezed his lips together and put his hands on my shoulders.

'After England had done to me what he… had done to me, I… well, I didn't care if I'd die. I didn't care if I'd stop breathing. I just didn't _care_ anymore, about _nothing_. B-but when I came home at last, and was greeted by a crying and yelling and oh so _worried_ little nation that they had to _tug_ _off_ my leg, I… I decided to go on anyway.'

'I-I would have _killed_ you if you _hadn't _decide that, y-you know.' I said with a huff, rubbing the salty water that could have been tears out of my eyes.

He slightly older man smiled and bent a bit to place a kiss in the back of my neck.

'…ah, do I need to tell you more about… me and England, Lovino?' he almost whispered against my skin.

I exhaled slowly. 'Th-that depends. Was it just as horrible as England described?'

'He described it as horrible?'

'Yes.'

'_Really_ horrible?'

'Y-yes.'

'Then you know everything.'

Oh god.

I shook a bit and noticed, thanks to the mirror in the bathroom, that my mouth was twitching and curling in all kinds of directions. Also, my hands were resting on Antonio's, clamped around them.

'Hey, hey, you've cried more than enough about my past, Lovi… we're _done_ with feeling bad about that. It's time to live in the here and now. With everybody we care about… and mostly with _each_ _other_.'

Antonio tenderly kneaded my shoulders and kissed my neck again.

'…but thank you, sweetie… Thank you so much for crying for the me… for _caring _for the me from the past. I'm okay now. I'm _happy_ now. Lovi. Happier than _ever_. And it's mostly thanks to the best teacher I've ever had in my life…'

I let out a choked-up, sniveling laugh, wiping my snotty nose.

'…s-say it and I'll have to punch your face.'

'_You_, Lovino.' Antonio smiled.

'…n-now I'll have to punch your face.'

But Antonio wouldn't let me. He had other things in mind, like making me turn his way, cupping my embarrassed but very cooperative face and not-minding the gross dampness of it as he softly kissed me.

I leaned against him in silent delight, clutching the back of his shirt with both hands as I felt something heavy fall off my chest.

Ah.

Yes.

That's true, I didn't have to worry anymore.

Not about me, not about him and _certainly_ not about how to top Antonio.

Everything was good now.

Everything was very _very_ good now.

…

…

Maybe we should just, I don't know, _leave_ the damn bathroom now.

…

B-but it wouldn't be nice to break off such a nice kiss.

Okay.

F-five more seconds. Just five more seconds.

**xXx**

For the rest of the day, I had the following plan in mind for me and Antonio…

Firstly, we would actually _leave the room_.

…no, wait, firstly, we would clean up a bit, because I didn't want the people working in the hotel thinking that Antonio and I were just a couple of obnoxious persons who liked to fuck all night long and make a complete sex-breathing jungle if their hotel room.

_Then_ we'd leave the room.

…

Secondly, we would greet all the people we would meet on our way to the door, which probably was the entire damn continent, because those pathetic European bastards _obviously_ had nothing better to do than… g-greet me and Antonio and wishing us a nice day as they decided to take an extra day off as well.

Also, I'd let America trip.

_Just_ for fun.

…

Thirdly, after leaving the wonderful hotel, I would take Antonio's hand in mine, since it belonged there.

And then we'd take a long walk around Barcelona like the stupid couple of tourists we were and laugh, have fun and make plans about whatever the fuck we were planning to do for the rest of our honeymoon, dammit, because crisis or not, I fucking _wanted_ _my honeymoon_.

Fourthly, I'd…

…

…I'd… tell Antonio about my dream.

And I'd nag at him and make _very _clear to him that I didn't _want _it, since I hate little creatures, but I'd also tell him I'd at least like to _think _about it, _if _something like that was going to happen in our future lives, probably not, but you never know, there's always _England_, after all, and he wanted to give America babies, so, like I said, you never know.

…

…

And then I'd enjoy watching his face.

A-and the overjoyed kisses he'd give me.

…

…

…and then, at the ending of the day, Antonio and I would go back to the hotel and retreat into our room.

Things would get hot and steamy and romantic again. Clothes would be cast aside, doors would get locked, and Japanese men and Hungarian women would be kindly yet forcefully kicked out of the nearest window.

_**Burning**_.

And then, Antonio and I would make passionately disgusting love to each other.

Like… like all happily married couples do.

Who would top and who would bottom?

…

…

I don't know.

And I don't _care._

But you know what the _best_ part is?

…

Neither does _he_.

**XxX**

**OoO End OoO**

**XxX**


End file.
